Back to the Newsies

Brooklyn Again

I waited outside of Tibby's, only grabbing a dinner roll at Jack's insistence. I also grabbed a plate full of beef for Quicksilver. I nibbled on the bread absentmindedly, thinking about the next scene, as Quicksilver snarfed down the meat I gave her.

They came out a while later, and we go our separate directions. Us to Brooklyn, and Denton back to his office.

On the Brooklyn Bridge, David asks us about Brooklyn. Well, more like Boots and Jack. I piped in my answer occasionally, with Jack and Boots looking at me in shock. Probably wondering how I knew all the answers.

"So is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?" is the last question I heard. The three of us burst out laughing while David just looks at us weirdly.

In Brooklyn, the newsies stare at us. Probably because they recognize me as the newsie that soaked three quarters of their army with the help of a wolf. I see them muttering behind their hands, muttering behind my back. But it's probably not that important anyway.

"Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" a newsie taunts. I look closer and see that it's Mac. I glare daggers at him and shove him out of the way.

"Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick." Spot said from atop some crates stacked up. Must've been his 'throne'. "And Graceful." he added.

I smirked back at him and Jack looked at us suspiciously, but pushed it to the back of his mind. "I see ya moved up in da woild, Spot." Jack said. "Got a river view an' everythin'."

They spit-shake and Spot turns to Boots.

"Heya Boots." Spot greets him. "How's it rollin'?"

"I got a couple of real good shootas." he replied.

He holds out a few marbles for Spot, who takes one and loads his slingshot, and aims at a beer bottle up on a beam. David quickly scrambles behind Jack.

"So, Jacky-boy. I been hearin' things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all ova. Dey been chirpin' in me ear." He lets the marble fly. It hits the beer bottle and the bottle shatters, sending beer spilling out in every direction. "Jacky-boy's newsies is playin' like dey're goin' on strike."

"Yeah, well we are." I shoot back at him quickly before Jack can say anything.

"We're not playing. We're going on strike." David adds, reinforcing what I said.

"Oh yeah? Yeah?" Spot asks, getting in David's face. "What is this Jacky-boy, some kind of walkin' mouth?" he says, as if he's tired of the jokes and wants to get to the point. Considering how he thinks we're joking, he probably is tired of the so-called jokes. I want to crack up laughing at this conversation since I've watched it so many times, but that would've been a bit weird, so I settle for a smirk instead, knowing every line of this conversation. 

"Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth wit a brain, and if you got half a one, you'll listen ta what he's gotta say." Jack shot back. I mouthed the words with him.

Spot sat down on some crates behind him. His expression read, Hurry up or God so help me soak this walkin' mouth.

"Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we're talking to newsies all around the city." David began. I internally snorted. We all know that, Davey. Get with the times.

"Yeah, so dey told me." Spot replied, sounding exasperated. "But what'd dey tell you?"

"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, that you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join. Because...well....you gotta!" David urged Spot.