Remembering Brooklyn (A Spot Conlon Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty Five

 I awake in the middle of the streets, from what I can tell, hours have passed. The rain has stopped, and the sun is just barely beginning to rise on the horizon. The city seems to still be sleeping. My head is throbbing in pain as I take in my surroundings, the memories of the night before rush to my mind. Visions of Graceful arguing with me down by the docks in the pouring rain, fills my head, followed by more visions. We are in my father's abandoned bakery, her lips are on mine in the heat of a mind boggling kiss. Then I witness her leaving the bakery in a rush. Then Morris Delancey's face flashes before my eyes. This instantly makes me sick. I double over, emptying the contents of my stomach into the streets of Brooklyn.

"You alright, boss?" Spike's voice echoes from the top of the building to my right. I squint my eyes in attempts to catch a glimpse of him, though this only makes me more nauseous. Before I know it, Spike has descended from the building and is by my side. "What happened?" He gasps when he sees me up close.

"That good, huh?" I ask him, gesturing to my face. The corner of his mouth lifts in the attempts of a smile, though I can tell by this facial expression that I probably look like ass. I attempt to stand from where I had been keeled over on the ground, but stumble as I do so. Spike grabs ahold of my arm, steadying me.

"I'm fine." I protest, and he takes a step back.

"What happened, boss?" He continues to push me.

"Delancey's." Is all I say before starting to walk in the direction of Manhattan. Spike doesn't try to say anything else, and when I look back to see if he is still there, he has disappeared.

Though I know I am expected in Manhattan for the newsie strike events, the only thing on my mind is finding Graceful. I need to get her away from those Delancey brothers. I wasn't sure how exactly I was going to do this, but I knew with the help of my fellow newsies, anything was possible. I keep this hope in the back of my mind as I continue on my journey toward Manhattan.

After what feels like hours, I have finally made it to the middle of 'Hattan. The borough is bustling with busy city residents hurrying about their day. The bright sun is a huge contrast to the angry storm that filled the night not many hours before.

I spot Racetrack out of the corner of my eye, and continue to observe the rest of the streets around me, all the while on the lookout for Graceful. I make my way over toward Race.

"Jesus." Racetrack cusses as he glances at me. "You look like ass." He motions to the bruises that I'm sure have taken over my face. Morris had definitely laid into me last night. At one point I was certain I could feel the life draining out of me as he continuously drove his fists into my face.

"Still better lookin' than you." I counter back, Mush laughs from the sidelines. I ignore him. "Have you seen Brooklyn?" I ask Race.

"Not since last night." He informs me. A sense of anxiety rushes through my body at this news. "She left a note at the lodging house though, I really didn't think much of it, just thought she was bein' dramatic. Somethin' about 'this was best for everyone, not to go lookin' for her."

"She's with the Delancey's I inform him." Disgust lingers in my voice.

"I figured." He shrugs as if this really didn't matter to him anymore. "I've been tryin' so hard to keep that girl out of trouble. I'm done now." He sighs deeply.

A crowd has started to form around the circulation building, bulls make a chain out of themselves so no one can get by. What the heck was going on? Race explains to me that David had tried to get Jack to escape from the refuge last night, though he had refused to go with David. There was so much going on in my life, I really had just forgotten all about the newsie strike until right now.

The police continue to form their barricade as the crowd of newsies begin to grow wilder. "Stop the World! No more Papes!" Newsies yell over and over again. 'the World' referring to Joseph Pulitzer's newspaper. Some of the boys are getting so worked up that they have begun to fight amongst themselves as the picketing for the strike continues.

There is so much going on in my mind right now, it is hard for me to concentrate on what is happening around me. Why am I even here right now? I should be looking for Grace.

I notice David out of the corner of my eye. He seems to be getting worked up. He is trying to stop some fighting that has broken out between some of the Manhattan newsboys. David seems to have taken over the role of leader for the 'Hattan boys, in Jack's absence.

"Race!" He yells to Racetrack, who doesn't seem to be listening to David, at all. "Help me! I need some help!" He yells again.

"Alright! I ain't deaf!" Race yells back at David, growing annoyed. Two smaller boys have started to break into fight in front of me.

"Hey, hey hey! Break it up." I tell the two boys, who stop fighting when I say this. My gaze focuses toward something behind the barricade of police officers. Something I never thought I would ever see in a million years. Jack is there, Weasel, the fat paper distributer, by his side. Morris and Oscar Delancey stand to the left of Jack and Weasel. By there side, is a beautiful blonde wearing a long light blue dress. Rage starts to form in my body as I see Grace with those two. "Hey Race, come here." I motion for Race to look at what I am seeing.

"What?" He wonders, coming closer to me.

"Just tell me I'm seeing things. Just tell me I'm seeing things." I repeat myself, gesturing to the traitors who stood before us.

"No, you ain't seeing things. Thats Jack. What's he doin'? And Brooklyn? What the hell?" Anger sweeps over his face.

"He's dressed like a scabber." I scoff, ignoring the fact that Brooklyn is on the other side of the barricade, hanging close by to those scum of the earth Delancey's. Scabbers were our enemy. They went against everything we as newsies were trying to stand up for. They continue to sell papes even throughout our strike efforts. How could Jack be doing this right now?

"Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya?" Mush pleads with his 'friend'. Jack looks guilty as he lets his gaze fall to the ground. "Come on, it's me, Mush. Look at me. What you doin' Jack?" Jack doesn't look at him.

"This ain't happening. This can't be happening." Kid Blink steps in. "What are you doin' Jack? Come on, what are you doin'?" A combination of desperation and anger filters through Blink's voice as Jack continues to ignore his former friends.

"Come on. What is this? Where'd you get them clothes?" Boots asks referring to the 'Scabber' clothes that Jack had on. He looked like a respectable member of society in those traitor clothes.

"Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself." Weasel explains in a smug manner. "A special gift to a special new employee."

"He sold us out!" I yell in anger. I can tell Racetrack is full with as much rage as I am.

"I'll give ya a new suit! You bum! I'll soak ya!" Race spits in the direction of Jack.

"Hey, hey hey!" I interrupt. "Let me get my hands dirty. Come here you dirty rotten scabber!" I scream, throwing myself in the direction of Jack, my cane in hand. Though I had a feeling the anger I was displaying toward Jack was really meant for someone else. The police officers hold me back, however, their barricade holds up nicely. "Traitor!" I yell, not really sure if I was aiming at Jack, or Brooklyn. Both were traitors in my book right now. Some of the boys pull me away from the bulls, probably afraid I will get myself into some trouble if I can't control my temper.

Alright, well here it is. Let me know what you all think. Hope this alright for you all, I took it in almost the completely opposite direction than the chapter I had up before this one... Like I said, I wanted to slow things down a little bit, and also include some more of the movie storyline, so this is what I came up with. I really hope you all like it. 

Leave me a comment, and don't forget to vote.

Love to you all.

xoxo