...
amara barely got to the brooklyn bridge before she was interrogated by spot.
"where 'ta hell were you?" he shouted, noticing her and running down to meet her, but immediately noticing her stance and swollen eye...s. "holy shit, what happened?"
"one question at a time," amara joked lightly, but spot wasn't having it. "i's was in manhattan. and what does it look like happened, spot?"
spot grumbled a bit under his breath. "ain't no need 'ta give me sass. we's didn't know where yous were and 'ta kids were goin' crazy."
and there it was. the real reason why spot was worried - because he couldn't handle the little ones. not because he was worried that amara had gotten hurt.
"glad 'ta know i's was missed," amara rolled her eyes, hopping past him and onto the bridge, brushing away his hand that was offering to help her.
...
when she got to her little hiding place under the bridge - with ace's help - it wasn't exactly empty. all the young newsies had found it, and were scattered across the room. some were going through her things, and others were just lying on the ground. she shook her head, and cupped her hands around her mouth to make her sound louder. " 'ey!" she shouted, and all the kids' heads whipped around, them going quiet. "better. now, why are yous here?"
"spot told us 'ta wait here," a young boy who she called pip replied, giving her a sweet smile.
amara sighed, and tried to sit down in amongst them all. she winced as she got down, and took a deep breath.
"what happened 'ta you?" one curious little girl asked, reaching up to touch her eye.
" 'ey, no touchin', madison," amara swatted away her hand, which made her giggle. "do yous really wanna know what happened?" amara did this alot. whenever she got into a fight and came back with bruises, the kids would ask what happened, and she'd over-exaggerate it slightly.
the kids all nodded, some of them chanting "tell us, tell us!"
shaking her head, amara laughed and gave in. "aight, aight, i's will tell yous."
the room erupted into cheers.
"but," she began again, "yous are gonna hafta stay quiet, alright?"
they all nodded.
"okay, okay. so i's was over in manhattan 'ta go talk 'ta someone i's knew. when i's was walkin' home, however, there were these boys who don't like me very much."
"why didn't they like yous?" one of the older kids - spike - asked, tilting his head.
" 'cause i's a goil."
all the girls groaned, knowing what it was liked to be picked on because you're supposed to be super dainty. the boys knew about the girls too, but there's a difference between watching a moving picture and actually being in one.
amara went on about the story, the little ones eagerly listening and asking questions every so often. amara couldn't lie - she loved the kids when they were like this. they could just be a handful sometimes. actually, scratch that, they were often like this. it was when they weren't with amara for the majority of the day they were rowdy and didn't listen.
now, amara knew that she wasn't perfect - she had just spent the morning crying, for god's sake. she knew she had flaws and that everyone else wasn't supposed to be perfect just for her. but for the love of all things unholy, why couldn't the boys take care of the little kids? it wasn't fair that she was thrown all the responsibility because she was one of the only girls in brooklyn.
