Destructive - Newsies | Sprace

Twelve | Spot

"Mornin' Spot!"

"Morning, Spoons." Spot murmured as he walked past the docks.

"Somethin' wrong?" Spoons asked.

"You haven't seen Racetrack Higgins recently, have you?" Spot needed something, anything to hold onto.

"The Manhattan boy? Can't say I have." Spoons replied, then carried on his way to buy the morning papers.

Spot let out a sigh. "Okay, Spot... just think. It's been three days since you've seen Race. What could have happened?" He glanced around to make sure nobody was there to witness him talking to himself in an attempt to maintain his sanity. "He could just be really busy. Oh... but he would have come to see me. Especially after how we left things. What if he's mad? That's a good possibility. I pissed him off when I didn't tell him we were anything more than friends on the walk back that time. No! It isn't like Race to hold a grudge. Who am I kidding, yeah it is. But he seemed fine!"

Deep down, Spot knew what had happened and he just didn't want to accept it. His brother must have become so desperate that he killed Racetrack. Spot reached up and began to rub his eyes as he reminded himself that Race wasn't dead. He isn't dead. He isn't dead.

If Spot had lost him, he didn't know what he would do with himself. He had wasted so much of their precious lives being mad at Racer and now all he wanted was more time together.

"Wait!" Spot said, accidentally aloud. If he was so eager to see Race, why not just make the hike over to Manhattan and find Race himself? So that's exactly what he did.

With his cane at his side and his hat on his head, Spot Conlon made his way to the Brooklyn Bridge. Spot didn't leave Brooklyn that often, or at least he tried not to. Certainly not during the day. He was too afraid that the newsboys would wreak havoc without him there to stop them.

Yeah, Spot Conlon loved Brooklyn and they were notorious for being tough, but sometimes Spot wishes he could smash some of those boys heads in. They would never listen, they would beat each other up for fun and they would steal when it wasn't excusable. Stealing was bad, Spot knew that. But sometimes he would be okay with it if it was for the right reasons.

Not all of the newsboys that lived in Brooklyn fell into that stereotype. There were a couple handfuls of nice boys that stuck together. But the rest of them? Oh, they were a mess.

Spot loved the Brooklyn Bridge. It was this great big thing that connected two cities together and there was a gorgeous view that came along with it. The wind would blow over it just right, making the pedestrians feel like they were standing underneath a ceiling fan.

Spot stepped over into Manhattan and sauntered his way to the Newsie Lodge. Manhattan had such a different energy from Brooklyn. The air seemed lighter and the sun shined brighter. Back in Brooklyn, you felt as if you were being watched every moment of every day, and that's coming from the king himself.

On his way there, he passed a few Manhattan boys. He knew he could have made his trip quicker and just ask one of them, but Spot didn't want to disturb their selling routine. Plus, he wanted to speak with Jack himself.

It was fairly early in the morning, so some newsies were still rushing out of the courtyard after they bought their papers.

"Hey, it's Spot Conlon!" A newsie Spot recognized as JoJo yelled.

All the heads in the courtyard turned.

"Jack around?" Spot asked, scanning the crowd of newsies. Some he remembered from the strike while others looked fairly new.