I'm the Queen of New York!

Chapter Eight

"Us to Pulitzer?" We asked in unison.

"You're the leaders, guys!" Dave responded.

"I'm not going in! I'm gonna go on ahead to Brooklyn, 'kay?" I said as I walked in Brooklyn's direction.

"Yeah, okay!" Jack replied. He looked at Dave for a minute, then to Les, then said, "Well maybe the kid'll soften him up." And with that, Jack and Les entered the building.

As I walked off, I could hear my friends back in the square, chanting, "STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!"

-

On the way to Brooklyn, I ran into my friend Allison, who the guys had whistled and "Hubba hubba"-ed at. I apologized for them, we talked for a bit, then I was on my way again. It didn't take long to walk to Brooklyn, I think because I was the only one going there, and it seems that when someone goes with me, it takes longer to get there.

After I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and gotten past the rougher newsies of Brooklyn, I came across my "Lover-boy" at his perch of crates, taking in his beautiful view of the bridge and the rest of New York. I climbed up and stood behind him. After a minute or two and he hadn't realized I was behind him, I pulled the whole "Guess Who?" game. I disguised my voice to try to sound like Jack.

"Guess who?"

"Archer!" He exclaimed, almost falling off his crate tower perch. I had to laugh.

"Who else would it be?" I said through laughs.

"What are you doing here? People will see you."

"I've already been seen. Some of your diving boys hit on me as I walked by. No one saw me come up here, though. We need to talk somewhere lower." I explained.

"I need something first," He said, stopping me from climbing down.

"What?" I could sort of ask before he pressed his lips to mine. He put his hands around me and I did the same to him. I was overjoyed to be kissing Spot, but I was worried that we would be seen by some of his newsies, or worse, some of mine. If that happened, I'd never hear the end of it. I had to pull away, though I really didn't want to. "I'm serious, Spot. We need to talk."

"Let's go, then." Spot agreed. We climbed down and sat down at the base of the crate tower. "What do you need to talk to me about, then?"

"The price for our papes went up. Most of us can't get by paying ten more cents per hundred. Jack and I have-"

"Oh boy, Arch, Jack has something to do with this?" Spot interrupted.

"He's our leader, Spot! Of course he has something to do with it. Anyway, we've decided to go-"

"Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick!" Spot had spotted Jack, Boots, and Davey. Here we go, I thought.

"So you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything." Jack said. Jack then spit in his hand for a spitshake. Spot spit, but it was over his hand. That was what Spot did for a spitshake with someone not from Brooklyn. Except for me, of course. But then again, we didn't really spitshake.

Spot put away his cane in his belt loop, then turned to Boots. "Hey Boots, how's it rollin'?"

"Hey, I got a couple of real good shooters, here." Boots held out his hand containing two clay marbles. "Shooters" are marbles, pebbles, etc. for shooting in a slingshot. Spot was famous for his legendary slingshot accuracy, and for his cane, or what some people call, a "pimp" cane, but Spot was no pimp.

Spot held out his hand and Boots dropped them in it. "Yeah," Spot then took one, brought out his slinghot, loaded it with the marble, aimed at a bottle of some sort, and fired, hitting the bottle and turning it into hundreds of thousands of shards of glass. During the process, Spot spoke to Jack, "So, uh, Jackie boy, I've been hearin' things from little boidies." As Spot aimed, though, Davey flinched and stepped back a little. What a wimp.