The icy, bitter cold wind blew across the East River. Flickers pulled his coat tighter around him. Not that it helped with how thread bare it was, but he felt it did. He looked at the massive expanse of the Brooklyn Bridge and shuttered. To him the bridge was the coldest place in the city. It didn't have any buildings to block the icy January wind. He was beginning to wish that Brooklyn would build a movie hall. Why did the closest one have to be in Manhattan?

He started to cross the bridge when he heard a whimper. He walked down under the bridge. He saw a dog nuzzling a bundle of rags. ‘Da poor dog must be freezing,' he thought. He started to leave the dog alone when he noticed a hand slip from under the pile of rags. Flickers slowly walked up to the dog and the person the dog was trying to wake up. The dog stopped trying to wake it's master and started growling at Flickers. Flickers stopped where he was. He wasn't scared of dogs, but he wasn't going to risk angering the dog, which appeared to be a bull dog. He slowly knelt down and started to talk to the dog.

"It's awl right, boy. I's jus' gonna help your owner." While he softly talked to the dog, he held out his hand. "I'm gonna see what's wrong with ‘im." Flickers was hoping the dog wouldn't attack him. "Now, come on, boy. It's okay." The dog slowly walked over to him. Flickers let the dog sniff his hand. He slowly patted the dog's head. "Dat's a good boy. Now let's see what's wrong wid your owner." Flickers walked over and bent down. He slightly moved the jacket aside to see who this was. He was shocked to see a heart shaped face with a thin straight nose. He could tell by the delicate features it was a girl. Her lips were full, but instead of being a deep rose color, like they should be, they were a pale blueish purple. Her skin had a blue hue to it too. It made her black lashes look even darker as they laid on her cheeks. Flickers couldn't help thinking how beautiful she would be if she were a normal color, and if she were cleaned up. She had dark smudges of dirt on her face.

Flickers scooped her into his arms. He was small, but she felt as if she weighed less than a feather. He looked down at the dog. "Spot'll kill me for bringin' ya home, but I ain't got a choice, so come on." The dog followed as told.

It took Flickers longer than normal to get to the Brooklyn Lodging House. The girl may not weigh much, but after carrying her for ten minutes, she wasn't too light. He stepped inside the door and nearly dropped her. "I need some help ‘ere!" It only took a minute for Flickers to be surrounded by other newsies and the care taker for the Lodging House, Mrs. Branson. "I found ‘er under da bridge. She's near froze."

Mrs. Branson nodded. "We need to get her warm. Boys, take her upstairs."

"But, all the beds are full." One of the boys pipped in.

"Right. Well, take her upstairs and put her in Spot's room." She got a lot of questioning looks. "He's been in Manhattan the two nights. Plus he won't question what I do." No one ever believed her when she said that, but she knew he wouldn't. He never had. The boys helped Flickers carry the frozen girl up to Spot's room. She watched as a white bull dog followed them upstairs. ‘Spot's not going to like that,' she thought to herself.

She walked upstairs ten minutes later with a basket full of warm and hot irons, some towels and a night dress. She handed the boys some towels. "We need to warm her up before she gets into the last stages of hypothermia. Wrap the irons in the towels and place them at the foot of the bed." The boys did as they were told. They knew to not question the older woman. It only took several minutes to do that. "Now I have to get her out of these wet clothes, so you boys have to get out." The all obey, yet again. The last one shut the door. Mrs. Branson turned from the door and shook her head when she saw the dog laying on Spot's bed with it's head on the girl's legs. Mrs. Branson couldn't help smiling. It was the cutest bull dog, one might even say it was beautiful. It was all white with a dark brown spot on it's left eye. It had small black spots on it's ears and faint freckles on it's back. She knew the dog was doing the best it could to try to warm the girl.

"I know you're trying, girl, but I have to change her clothes." Almost as if the dog understood, it stood up and jumped off of the bed. Mrs. Branson shook her head as she started to take off the girls wet clothes. She took off her boots and amazingly her stockings were dry. She moved to take off her jacket. She pulled the right side off and went to remove the left when she noticed a piece of tattered paper. She slowly took it out of the girl's hand. She looked at it and read it out loud. "Sean MacLain." That was all there was on the paper. She laid the piece of paper on Spot's dresser. She continued to take off the wet clothes. Five minutes later the girl was in a dry nightdress and cleaned up.

As soon as Mrs. Branson was finished changing and cleaning the girl up, the dog was right back in the bed with it's head on her leg. "Glad to see you're loyal, girl." She patted the dog on the head before she left the room.

*****

Spot grabbed his bag with his only other suit of clothes in it. He had spent the last two nights in Manhattan in the Lodging House on Duane Street, and he was ready for the quiet of his own room. "Well, Jaky-boy, I's outta ‘ere." Spot started looking around the bunk room. "I'm outta ‘ere as soon as I find me sling shot," this came out as an aggravated mumble. He stopped looking around the bunk room, which was only slightly full, on his third spin. "Snipeshooter, dat's my slingshot." Jack couldn't help smiling at the near child like tone to Spot's voice. He may be sixteen, but he sure acted younger when it came to his prized possessions, his cane and sling shot.

Snipeshooter didn't argue or a have a snappy comment to make like he usually did with others because, frankly, Spot scared him. "I's jus' lookin' at it, Spot." Jack's smile got bigger as he moved to stand behind Spot, and over him by a good six inches. Spot wasn't the biggest newsie, but he was one of the toughest and certainly some one not to be reckoned with.

Spot turned back to Jack. His ice blue eyes, that at times appeared clear, were still sparking. "Don't know how ya put up wid it, Jacky. I couldn't live in da same room with thirty odda guys."

Jack shrugged. "It ain't so bad. Yer jus' spoiled, Spot."

Spot shrugged this time as he put his sling shot in his back pocket and his ever present cane in the loop of his suspenders. "I ain't spoiled. Nan, uh, Mrs. Branson jus' knows I like my privacy."

Jack shook his head at Spot's stumbling. He knew what Spot had started to say, but would never let on that he knew. Spot loved his ‘didn't need anybody' image. "Well, we'll see ya, Spot." Spot nodded as he left the bunk room.

Spot enjoyed the quiet walk back to Brooklyn. The city wasn't quiet by any stretch of the word. Carts and horses plodded along the cobble stone streets. Vendors shouted their sales to the last of the day's buyers. The city was just as loud as it had been that morning, but it was quiet to Spot because he didn't have to talk to anybody. He still didn't understand how Jack liked being surrounded by the constant noise and chatter of his newsies. He snapped from his thoughts as a harsh, cold wind hit him. He was half way across the Brooklyn Bridge. He pulled his thread bare coat closer to him to try to stop the wind, but it didn't seem to work. The wind still hit him full force.

Spot finally reached the Brooklyn Lodging House. He was so happy to see the old, but welcoming building. The wind made it feel as if it was ten below out. His cheeks and little button nose were bright red, almost matching his suspenders. He couldn't wait for Mrs. Branson to fix him a cup of hot cocoa, but first he had to put his things in his room.

Spot walked up stairs and heard his newsies constant chatter. He shook his head. He didn't understand why people felt they had to constantly talk. He opened the door to his room and simply dropped the bag just inside. He shut the door again without even giving his room a spare glance. He walked downstairs and found Mrs. Branson washing her hands at the sink. She turned around when she heard one of the boards creek. She smiled as her ice blue eyes saw Spot. A grin quickly spread across his face as his eyes locked with those that mirrored his own. Mrs. Branson was an older lady. She was short, shorter than Spot, about five foot three inches. Her sandy blond hair was only streaked with gray, and at her age of sixty that was really good. She had a pug, button nose that turned up slightly at the tip. Her lips were thin, but only slightly thinner than they had been when she was young. Her eyes were an ice blue, but never cold like one might expect from the color.

"Glad to see you're back, Spot," Mrs. Branson said as she dried her hands.

"Glad ta be back. I jus' don't see how Jack can sleep in a room wid all that noise." Spot sat at the kitchen table. Mrs. Branson joined him as she handed him the hot cup of tea she was about to drink. She could tell he was cold because his cheeks and nose were still tinged pink from the wind. Spot gladly took it. He wasn't fond of tea, but he was too cold to be picky.

"How are things in Manhattan?" She asked as she sat across the table from him.

Spot shrugged. "Well, da World is still treatin' ‘em fair. I doubt Pulitzah will raise da price on us again so soon aftah the strike. I mean it's on'y been six months. He now knows what we're capable of." Mrs. Branson smiled as she agreed with Spot. She was the only one who ever saw how intelligent he was beyond his street smarts. She understood the reasons he had to quit school, but she really wished he had gone back after they had found each other again. But she also understood his bond and responsibility to his newsies. They were his family and had been for years. He had proven that more than she could count. He really did have a good, kind heart even if he didn't show it.

"Does Jack agree with ya?"

Spot cracked a crooked smile. His ice blue eyes got a kind spark in them when it came to Jack. They had been best friends since they both became newsies. They had actually been inseparable until Spot had been chosen as Brooklyn's leader, and Jack had become Manhattan's leader. Now they only saw each other when time allowed, which wasn't often. "Yeah. He's a lot smartah dan ya t'ink." Spot yawned and stretched. It was only seven o'clock, but he was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the last few days with Race's snoring, Blink's humming and Jack's mumbling in his sleep. Not to mention the other noises that were ever present in the Manhattan Lodging House. "I'm beat." He stood and moved to kiss Mrs. Branson on her cheek. "G'night, Nana."

"Good night, Luke." She watched her only grandchild leave the room. She smiled to herself as she thought it was funny he only caller her Nana when no one was around. She knew everyone knew, but they never let on that they did. And Spot never showed his real feelings toward her unless they were alone.

*****

Spot entered his room and began to undress. He laid his shirt on the dresser. Just as he let go of his shirt, he noticed a slip of paper with really delicate hand writing. He picked up the piece of paper and read it. Sean MacLain? Who was that? Spot shook his head. He would find out tomorrow. He was just too tired to worry about it tonight. He kicked off his boots and walked over to his bed. He took his gold topped cane and sling shot out and leaned them against the wall. He reached for the bed covers, but suddenly stopped when he heard a low growl. He only wondered for a second where it was coming from.

Spot jumped back as the most ferocious bull dog he had ever seen stood up on his bed. He instinctively grabbed his cane and held it out like a sword. The dog climbed over a pile in the middle of his bed. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He pushed the thought form his mind. He was more worried about the dog coming towards him. God, how he hated dogs. Any dog, but bull dogs were the worst. "Get back ya ugly thing." Spot waved his cane at the dog, but the dog just kept coming closer. Spot looked back at the door for only a split second. He was only a few steps from the door. He could bolt at any time, but he knew that if he ran the dog would chase him. He didn't want to stay in the room with the beast, but he didn't see he had much choice. He turned his head slightly to the door again. "Help!" He cried out, but he didn't hear anybody answering him. "Who brought dis dog in ‘ere?! Help!" He couldn't believe this. He was Spot Conlon and he was trapped in his room by a bull dog. A second later he heard several feet running down the hall toward his room. Flickers was the first one to stop behind him.

"I see ya discovered what followed me home, Spot." He was near sniggering at the sight of Spot having gone completely pale at the sight of the growling dog.

"You brought dis beast home?! Flickers, I's gonna. . . ." He didn't get to finish his threat because he saw a hand rise up from under his covers and touch the dog's haunches. The dog instantly stopped growling and turned to look at the person the hand belonged too. Spot was amazed to see that the pile under his covers was a person, and he was even more shocked to see how frail the hand was. It better belong to a guy, he thought.

"Och, now, Sadie, what are ye growlin' aboot." A gentle Scottish brogue drifted from the covers. Spot was stunned beyond words. He was gone two days and had lost complete control over his room and apparently his newsies. He knew they knew his fear of dogs, but yet Flickers had brought one home with him.

"She's awake," Flickers said more to himself than anyone. He turned to the crowd of newsies that had formed in the doorway and the hall. "Someone go tell Mrs. Branson dat she's up." Spot looked at Flickers. Confusion was now more evident on his face, but his anger at the small boy still edged his eyes making them just as cold as the ice that spotted the East River.

The girl slowly sat up and looked around. As soon as she saw the room was full of boys her own age, some older some younger, she blushed and pulled the covers up and held them close. The course wool itched at her hands and legs. Her legs? Where was her skirt? She looked around the room and didn't see any of her clothes. Then what was she wearing? Where was she? It was that last question that she voiced. "Where am I?" She automatically looked at the boy in the front. She peered into his ice blue eyes. They could be so captivating if he didn't look so angry. He was even good looking, but he would be handsome if he didn't have such a hard set to his jaw at that moment.

"Ya happen ta be in my bed," Spot all but bit out. "An' I'd like ta know how you got there."

She couldn't help smiling at his anger. Apparently he was as much in the dark as she was when it came to knowing why and how she had gotten where she was. "Well, so would I, lad, I'm as lost as ye are." Spot couldn't help feeling a little twinge when it came to her voice. It sounded like a bird. He locked eyes with her for the first time and was over come with a feeling of familiarity when he looked into them. Her eyes were a warm amber color. They reminded him of the color of brandy. He was sure they were very volatile too, could change shades with her moods. He wondered if they would lighten when she was happy, or if they would darken to an almost dark brown if she was angry. Spot's interest was sparked and he had to make a point to find out both of them. But all of that after he found out what he was doing in his bed.

Flickers looked from Spot to the girl and was beginning to get impatient. Neither was saying anything and there was still the unanswered question of how she got there. Spot finally tore his eyes from the girl's and looked at Flickers. Every ounce of his anger returned and it was evident in his eyes. "Ya said that ya brought dat beast," he pointed to the dog, who was now laying beside the girl, "home wid ya, so I'm assumin' dat she came wid it." He pointed to the girl.

"Sadie is no' a beast."

"It's awl right. Spot jus' don't like dogs. She's a good goyl," Flickers tried to reassure her before he answered Spot's question. He wasn't looking forward to this. Spot had an awful temper, and right now Flickers could tell it was reaching the breaking point. "Well, I, uh, was walkin' back from da flickers, an'," he turned to the girl. "I like ta see da picture shows, so dat's how I got da name Flickers." He looked back at Spot when he heard him give a low growl. "Anyway, when I got ta da bridge, I hoid a dog whine. I didn't think nothin' of it till I saw ‘er hand slip out from under ‘er bundle a close. I couldn't leave ‘er dere, so I brought ‘er here. Da dog is hers an' I wasn't ganna leave it out in da cold." With that it was evident that Spot was highly annoyed. He didn't mind Flickers saving the girl. He would have too, but bringing the dog was unacceptable. He could have left it outside. Of course Spot would never voice that opinion, but it was how he felt. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but stopped when Mrs. Branson entered the room.

"Glad to see you're awake, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Cold, and a lil' weak, but dinna worry aboot it. I'll be fine." Mrs. Branson nodded. She didn't believe the girl, but she nodded.

"Well, you have a mild case of hypothermia. A few days in a nice warm bed will help that." Mrs. Branson turned to the newsie that had gone to get her. "I have you some food, dear." The newsie walked up behind Mrs. Branson with a tray that had a hot bowl of soup and a cup of hot cocoa. Spot saw that cup of hot cocoa and his anger mounted. Sure the girl gets his bed and his hot cocoa. If this is what happens when he goes to check on things in Manhattan, then he wasn't going back again. He crossed his arms and didn't say anything.

"I dona need any food, ma'am. I just need tae be moving on. I have nare time tae waste." She pushed the covers off of her and slowly stood. "If ya could be getting my clothes, I would be grateful." Her Scottish brogue had every one mystified, especially Spot. She took two shaky steps and suddenly everything went black.

Spot barely had time to react before he saw the girl begin to crumple to the floor. Spot stuck out his arms as he took a step forward and caught her. He looked at her as she laid limp in his arms. He looked down at the girl as she remained passed out in his arms and he couldn't help noticing how beautiful she was. Her pale skin looked almost ghostly with her dark eyelashes against her cheeks. Her dark brown hair fell in a mass over his arms and a few strands fell over her face. Spot snapped from his appraisal of her when Mrs. Branson touched his arm. He looked up at her with a startled look in his eyes. How long had he been staring at her? He felt like it had been an eternity. Spot shifted his hold on her and carried her back to the bed. She didn't move as he laid her down and covered her back up. He brushed a few strands out of her face and for a brief moment, it was almost fleeting, a smile crossed his face, but as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared.

As soon as the girl was tucked away in Spot's bed, Mrs. Branson shooed them all out of the room and pulled the door to. "Now, that the excitement is over with, you all have to get to bed. You do have to work in the morning." She was met with a few groans and grumbles as they all stalked back to the bunk room. Spot continued to follow Mrs. Branson down stairs. "Spot, you have to head to bed."

Spot grinned at her making him go to bed. He looked back up the stairs and heard the noise from the bunk room. "I know, Nana, but I ain't sleepin' in dat room wid those guys. I need ta be able ta sleep, remember?" She smiled. He was seriously spoiled by the peace and quiet of his own room, but he hadn't always been that way. He only got that way once she started running the Lodging House. "I'm jus' gonna sleep on the couch." He walked to the closet in the hall that led to the kitchen and took out a blanket. "G'night."

"Good Night, Luke." Mrs. Branson watched Spot walk to the couch and lay down. He curled up in the blanket and rolled with his back to the room. The first floor of the Lodging House was warm, but only because there had been a fire going in the fire place all day, and it would probably burn well into the night.

*****

Spot tossed and turned on the small couch for close to three hours before he decided sleep was nearly impossible. He was still in a foul mood over not being able to sleep in his own bed, but also because of the dog. That shouldn't be a problem. He had gone to bed countless times angry, but his mood wasn't what was keeping him awake. It was the girl, or more specifically her eyes that was keeping him up. Every time he would close his eyes he would see them staring at him. Their warm amber color shining like beacons in the night. They were so warm he almost wondered if they would glow. What was even more haunting than their color was the memories that they brought up.

Spot tossed the blanket off of him and stood up. He began pacing the living room. "Come on. Get outta my head. I don't wanna think about ya." Spot was talking to himself as he paced the breadth of the room. It didn't matter how much he talked to himself and tried to force the memories out of his head, they wouldn't leave. He stifled a yell out of frustration. He gave up pacing and walked back to the kitchen. He was hoping to find Mrs. Branson there, but the kitchen was dark and she had already gone to bed. Spot lit the oil lamp over the stove as he looked for the matches to light the stove. He hated warm milk, but hopefully if he drank some he would be able to sleep. He desperately needed to sleep. He finally found the matches after nearly a minute of searching and lit the stove. He jumped back when the small flame of the match burnt his finger. "OW!" He hadn't realized how loudly he had yelled till he heard Mrs. Branson's door open.

Spot didn't think anything of it because he knew that she often had trouble sleeping. He walked over to the ice box and pulled out the last bottle of milk. The cream had already started to settle, so he had to mix it up before he could pour some into a pot to heat it. He was stirring the milk when Mrs. Branson walked into the kitchen.

"You hate warm milk, Luke. Something must be really bothering you. Ya want to talk about it?" Spot turned to look at his grandmother as she pulled her robe tight around her small frame.

"Yeah." Spot stopped stirring long enough to see how warm the milk was. He decided it was warm enough because if it got too warm he really wouldn't be able to drink it. He poured it into a tea cup, only spilling a little. He dumped everything in the sink before he joined his grandmother at the kitchen table. Mrs. Branson smiled as she watched Spot clean up his mess. His mother---her daughter---taught him well. He took a sip of the warm milk and wrinkled his button nose. Oh how he looked so much like his mother when he did that. Mrs. Branson got a warm smile on her face again.

"What's the matter?"

Spot sighed. "It's dat goyl. She's why I can't sleep."

"Oh, Spot. She'll be better in a few days and you'll have your bed back." Mrs. Branson couldn't help giving a small laugh.

"It ain't that, Nana. It's her eyes. I can't close mine wid out seein' hers. I can't." He sounded so lost and slightly cranky as he complained to the older woman. "Did ya get a good look at ‘em?" Mrs. Branson shook her head. "Dey're the color a brandy. They're this warm amber color dat almost glows. I can't get ‘em outta my head." He set the milk down. He knew he wasn't going to drink anymore of it. "When I see ‘em, I see da crystal container a brandy sitting on the cabinet in the parlor." Mrs. Branson nodded. She knew exactly where he was going with this. "When I see dat decanter a brandy, I think a him. I don't wanna think of ‘im. It took me two years ta not think of ‘im, an' now it's all comin' back." Mrs. Branson didn't say anything. She knew her grandson better than his family of newsies did. She knew what he had been through. She knew what he really felt and thought. "I hadn't thought about dat day for so long an' now I can' get the image of ‘im hanging from the raftahs in da basement outta my head." Spot didn't realize he had a single tear run down his cheek. "Did ya know he was drunk when ‘e did it?" Mrs. Branson nodded. "Did ya know I was da one ta keep givin' ‘im the glasses a brandy that night?" Mrs. Branson nodded again. She had heard this story before. "I was da one that drove ‘im ta hang ‘imself. It was ‘cause a me dat Ma ended up in dat looney bin." Mrs. Branson felt her chest tighten as Spot mentioned her daughter. She reached out and touched his hand.

"Aw, Luke, it isn't your fault. You didn't know what he was thinking. You were just giving him his few glasses of brandy before he went to bed."

"A few?!" Spot snorted.

"So, he was having a few more than normal, but you didn't know if it had been a bad day at the bank. You didn't know he had lost his job for embezzling thousands of dollars. It's not your fault."

Spot shook his head. "I jus' don't believe dat, Nana. I can't. I shoulda told ‘im ta stop, he'd had enough."

"How were you to know? You were only thirteen. You had no way of knowing when it was too much."

Spot shrugged. "But I'll always remember da brandy," he said this softly as if he wasn't even talking to her. He then looked at Mrs. Branson, his ice blue eyes were glazed over with mixed emotions. "He was a great faddah though. I mean, sure, he was a thief, but he was still a great faddah an' husband." He shrugged again. "Until he killed ‘imself in da basement. It was on'y a matta a months before Ma went crazy. She started hearin' Pop's voice sayin' it was all ‘er fault. If she hadn't been so high maintenance, den he wouldn't a had ta steal all dat money. She eventually stopped functioning and just sat in ‘er room an' talked back ta Pop." His voice was still soft, distant as he explained the few months after his father had committed suicide. Mrs. Branson wiped away a tear as it rolled down her cheek. "It killed me, but I had ta put ‘er in dat looney bin. It was for ‘er own good. I became a newsie a few days later an' met Jack." A fleeting smile crossed his face. "I'd still be livin' in dat nice town house if it weren't for dat brandy. I can see it sittin' in its crystal decanter jus' waitin' fer me ta pour him a glass." He then looked at Mrs. Branson. His eyes were nearly back to normal, but still a little dull. "I wouldn't be havin' dis problem if it weren't for ‘er eyes." He ran his fingers through the long top of his sandy blond hair.

Mrs. Branson didn't say anything for several long beats as she waited to see if he was finished. When she knew he was, she touched his hand. His blue eyes made contact with hers and they both smiled. Both smiles were bitter sweet ones, but it was obvious that there was love behind them. "Do you feel better?" Spot nodded slowly. "Good. Now, it's almost midnight. You have to get up in five hours. Go back and try to sleep. I'll pour out your milk." Spot nodded. He kissed his grandmother on the cheek before he left the kitchen. "I love you, Luke."

"Love ya too, Nana."

*****

Sadie looked up at her owner and snorted. It was in the middle of the night and the poor dog was freezing. She shook her head and slowly climbed off the bed. She pushed the door open and started to walk down the hall. There had to be a warmer place in this house. Of course she was warmer than she had been in weeks, but she was still cold. She saw another door about halfway down the hallway and stopped. She stuck her nose just in the door, but slowly started to back away when she heard the most horrible noise she had ever heard. Someone was snoring loud enough to wake all of Brooklyn. She started down the stairs as she saw a warm glowing light at the base of the stairs. Was that a fire? She hoped so. She could curl up on the rug in front of it and feel warm, and content for the first time in weeks.

Sadie reached the main room of the downstairs part of the building. Her ears perked forward as she heard a soft noise. It was a light snore, or someone breathing deep. She couldn't make it out clearly. She looked at the fire and the bare floor in front of it. Sure the fire would be warm, but the floor would be cold. She walked toward he noise and noticed that it was a boy on the couch. He had his back to the room, and only took up half of the couch, he was that thin. Sadie put her two front paws on the sofa and nuzzled him. He didn't move. Good. She knew this was the boy that didn't like her, but he was body heat, and more than what Shannon was offering since she was still near froze. She slowly crawled up on the couch, ever careful as not to wake him. She had seen how he felt about dogs and the last thing she needed was him to wake up and shake that stick at her again. She was finally up on the couch and she curled up next to him, placing her head on the little bit of pillow that he was not using. She may not have had covers, but there was a fire warming her and the heat from this boy to keep her warm the rest of the night.

*****

Spot woke up that morning to the smell of extremely bad breath. He couldn't figure out what it was. He opened his eyes to find himself nose to nose with the dog. He sat up as quickly as he could and the dog jumped off of the couch. "What do ya think ya were doin' sleepin' wid me?!" Spot barked at the dog almost as if he expected an answer. "Go upstairs an' stay wid yer owner." Sadie wagged her nub tail as she walked up the stairs.

Spot walked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Branson sitting at the table drinking coffee. "I see you saw who was sleeping with you." She couldn't hide the smile that played on her lips at the corners.

"Ya knew she was dere?" Spot sounded amazed because Mrs. Branson hadn't gotten the dog down. Mrs. Branson nodded as she took a sip of her coffee. "An' ya did nothing."

"Oh, Spot, you have to get over your fear of dogs. It's been seven years since you were attacked. And it was only because the dog was a protective mother that didn't want you near her puppies." Spot snorted. He didn't care why the dog had attacked him. It had attacked him and that was all that mattered.

"I'm goin' upstairs ta get dressed." Spot left the kitchen in a huff. He wasn't really mad at anybody. He just wasn't a morning person. He entered his room to find the dog laying on his bed with it's head on the girl's leg. Spot shook his head at Sadie before he went to gather his clothes for the day. He had his clothes in hand and was ready to go to the washroom when he looked at the girl.

Her skin had returned to it's normal color now and she appeared as pale as the snow with her black lashes laying on her cheeks. She had a thin straight nose and full lips that had finally returned to their natural rosy shade instead of the blue color they had been the night before. Her cheek bones were high and thin. She was beautiful. She had a line of freckles that covered her cheeks and nose. The freckles gave her a little girl look. The freckles were the same deep amber color as her eyes. Her eyes. Spot shook himself before he started picturing them again. That was all he needed was those memories to keep him working today. He grabbed his cane and slingshot from the wall beside the bed and left the room to get ready for the day.

*****

Sadie licked her owner's face as soon as the girl opened one eye. She looked around the room. Everything seemed so unfamiliar. Where was she? She slowly remembered as she looked at the clothes she was wearing. She was in a house of some sort with a bunch of boys and young men. The one that stuck out in her mind was the one with the blue eyes. They had hypnotized her so easily last night. They were all her dreams had consisted of during the night. She slowly moved out of the bed and planted her bare feet on the cool wood floor. The wood was rough beneath her feet. She slowly walked on shaky legs out of the room and down the hall. She had to find out where she was and then get out of there, so she could get on with finding Sean. She had to find Sean.

Even though she needed to find Sean, she needed to find her clothes first. She slowly walked down the stairs and found that the house she was in was more like a hotel or boarding house because there was a desk in the front that looked like where people checked in at. The more she remembered the boys from last night, the more she figured it was a boarding house of some sort. She noticed the simple, but yet in style furnishings. The owner of the house must want their home to appear in style. No one was in the front room. Shannon couldn't help peaking at the sign-in book on the front counter. As she looked over the guests, she noticed they all had odd names and several were regulars, their names being in there for days at a time and probably longer. The most common names were Spot Conlon, Flickers O'Neal and Red Smith. Some of the people didn't even sign a last name, just what she assumed were first names and was hoping that they were nicknames because if not, their parents hadn't liked them very much when they had been born. She left the front counter and continued her exploration of the house. She came up on a hallway with three doors off of it. One said "Office" on it. The other two were just plain doors. She walked down the hallway and found a small kitchen. There she found the older woman that had brought her food last night. It was just last night, right? She hadn't slept any longer, had she? She hoped not. She couldn't afford to waste any more time. She had to find Sean.

Shannon cleared her throat. Mrs. Branson looked up from her morning tea and paper. "Feeling better?"

Shannon nodded. "Aye. I'm a wee bit weak, but better. I'm Shannon MacLain." She walked over to the table and held out her hand.

"Glad to finally know your name. I’m Mrs. Branson. Sit down and I'll fix you some hot tea and a bowl of oatmeal."

"Thank ye." Mrs. Branson smiled as she set about getting breakfast for the girl. She liked the girl's Scottish brogue. I was a refreshing change from the harsh New York accent her boys used. Some of them didn't even have a New York or Brooklyn accent naturally, but used one anyway for sympathy and to make selling easier. "How did I end up stayin' ‘ere?"

"One of my boys, Flickers, found you half froze under the Brooklyn Bridge. He brought you back here because he had no idea of what to do." Mrs. Branson brought over the bowl of hot oatmeal. "When was the last time you ate, dear?"

Shannon took a bite of the hot oatmeal. "Afore last night it ‘as been aboot three weeks. I tried tae steal some food, but there were always coppers around, an' I canna afford tae be put in jail." She took another bit of the oatmeal. "This is really good. Thank ye."

"You're quite welcome. Can I ask you another question? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Shannon nodded as she took another bite. "When I was getting you out of your wet clothes, I saw a piece of paper. It had the name Sean MacLain on it. Who is that? Your father? Brother? Husband?" Mrs. Branson doubted it was the last one. Shannon appeared to be the same age as Spot, sixteen, but she didn't know if they married early in Scotland.

Shannon took a sip of the slowly cooling tea. "He's me brother. I promised my mama that I'd find ‘im." She took another sip of the tea and a deep breath. She appreciated all that this woman had done for her, but she knew she couldn't stay here any longer because she had to find Sean. "Where's me clothes, Mrs. Branson?"

"They're drying in my room. I washed them for you and they should be close to being dry. I can understand why you would want to get out of that nightdress."

Shannon nodded. "Aye, I do. The sooner I'm dressed, the sooner I can be on my way. I canna waste no time. I have ta find Sean. I thank ye fer takin' me in, but I mus' be goin' now, ya ken?"

Shannon actually got a chill as she watched Mrs. Branson's eyes turn from a sparkling crystal blue the a blue that was as cold as ice. In that instant she couldn't help wondering if Mrs. Branson was related to the boy from last night. Their eyes were so much alike, crystal and cold. What was that boys name again? Spec? Dot? Spot? Spot. She remembered that name, but who couldn't. It was definitely original. Shannon was snapped from her thoughts when Mrs. Branson spoke.

"You will not be leaving this Lodging House, Shannon. You just woke up, and you are no where near recovered from the case of hypothermia you have. It will take you several days to fully recover. Besides I can't have you wondering the cold streets of New York. You would catch your death. I'm surprised you haven't already. You are staying here till Spring. No arguments. Is that understood?"

Shannon nodded. She never thought that this woman could be so forceful, but she could definitely see that she was related to the boy called Spot. How she wasn't sure, but she would figure it out in due time. Well, if she was going to be there for several months, she better find something to occupy her mind. And finding Sean would take up plenty of it, but finding out how Mrs. Branson and Spot were related would fill the rest of it. The entire time Shannon was thinking, Mrs. Branson had been busy talking.

"Since you will be staying here, you will have to pay for each night's lodging. It's a nickel a night. You can pay your way by selling papers with the boys and they in turn can help you find your brother. Of course the stay will be free till you are well enough to sell, so you can stay here free of charge till next week. Does that sound reasonable?" Shannon nodded. She was still in shock over being scolded. Not even her mother had scolded her like that. "Good. Now let's get you dressed." Both stood to leave the kitchen, but left when they saw Sadie walk into the kitchen.

Shannon knelt down and rubbed the dog. "You werena in bed with me this morning. Where were ye? Did ye find someplace warmer tae sleep?" The dog licked her face. "Okay, I'll forgive ye this once, girl." The dog barked and followed the two women out of the kitchen.

*****

Spot rubbed his eyes in hopes to clear them a little and then ran his fingers through his hair before he yelled out his next horribly made up headline. He hadn't sold many papers that morning because his headlines were so horrible that it was obvious they had been made up. It wouldn't have been like that if he hadn't been so tired, but God, was he tired! He had been up half the night because of that girl's eyes. Why did they have to be the color of warm brandy? Because of her eyes, he had been up half the night fighting off memories he would just as soon forget.

Spot took the penny some woman handed him. His mood was so black he was needing a way to relieve the stress he was feeling. Getting into a good fight would to it, but who could he find to soak? He wasn't angry with anyone. Hadn't been angry with anyone since the strike, and the last person he had been mad at had been Jack. He needed to find someone to take his anger out on. It wasn't like there were just fights waiting to happen, although, today he wished there was.

Spot slowly walked down the street and looked up when he heard a squeaky voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He had been right before in his thinking when he thought that fights just didn't wait for him, but God was being generous today and had actually planted a fight one block in front of him. A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched the newsie hand a paper to a gentleman. Spot had never liked this newsie and had in fact banned him from selling and living in Brooklyn because of some unforgivable things he had done. And here he was selling in Brooklyn. Spot was going to enjoy this. He slowly walked up behind the newsie, who was an inch taller than him.

Spot cleared his throat, but the boy didn't turn around. Spot took that as a sign of being ignored and decided to not be so subtle, which was good because he never really felt like being subtle. "Would ya mind tellin' me what side of da Brooklyn Bridge your on, Squeaks?" Spot smiled, but only for a split second as he saw the newsie's back stiffen. The boy slowly turned around to face Spot. Spot's crystal blue eyes regarded to boy cooly.

Squeaks was trying to hide his fear, but unfortunately he wasn't doing such a good job with it. "Oh, hey, Spot. I---uh---well ya see---" He stammered over his words. A wicked smirk played on the corners of Spot's mouth. He loved watching this boy squirm.

"Are ya gonna answer my question, or am I gonna hafta beat it outta ya. ‘Cause right now, I could really enjoy givin' ya a good soakin'." Spot cracked his knuckles.

Squeaks gave a uncomfortable laugh as he swallowed hard. He didn't know why he was so scared of Spot. He was bigger than him, but Spot was meaner. Jesu, even Jack Kelly was a little scared of him. "I, uh, didn't think ya'd be sellin' over ‘ere an' Manhattan was slow, so I, uh. . . ." He didn't get to finish because Spot grabbed him by the shirt.

"I told ya a year ago that all a Brooklyn was mine, an' I didn't wanna see ya in it again. I told ya dat if I did, I'd soak ya wid in an inch a your life, so are ya ready for dat beatin'?" Squeaks shook his head. "Too bad." Spot drew back his other fist and landed the punch directly into Squeaks stomach. Squeaks doubled over, and Spot released his hold on Squeaks shirt.

Before Squeaks could recover, Spot had laid one more punch to his mid-section and a right cross to his jaw. Spot stepped back to give Squeaks a chance to stand up. He wanted to be able to plant more punches on his face and not his stomach. Spot didn't get much of a chance because as soon as Squeaks could stand he connected with Spot's face with a left and then a right punch. Spot stumbled back and brushed his hand across his mouth. Blood covered the side of his index finger. Not only had Squeaks busted his lip, but Spot could feel his left cheek and the lower part of his left eye starting to swell. That was it! Spot had had enough. No one bloodied Spot Conlon and got away with it. Spot took his cane and shoved it into Squeaks mid-section. He then took the opportunity to hit him in the side of the face with the handle. Spot knew he had done some damage with it because he heard something pop. Spot got in one more punch before Squeaks had gone down for the count. He wasn't knocked out, but just unable to fight anymore, much less stand.

Spot stumbled away holding his hand up to his still bleeding lip. Ironically, he was in a worse mood than before. The fight hadn't been able to relieve any of the stress he had been feeling, but instead added to it because he remembered what Squeaks had done to his last girlfriend. Spot would never forgive him for drowning her in the East River. Sure Squeaks had said it was an accident, but Spot had a feeling it was otherwise. Spot headed toward Manhattan. He had to get cleaned up before he could go back to the Brooklyn Lodging House. Mrs. Branson would fret herself into being ill if she saw him like this.

*****

Jack looked up from the paper when he heard the bell over the door ring. He was a little early for lunch, but he wanted some time to read his paper and think about what he was going to do for his and Sarah's sixth month anniversary. He was needless to say shocked to see Spot walk in. He wasn't expecting to see his best friend again for a while because Spot's visits were few and far between. Jack quickly became more shocked when he saw that Spot actually had a black eye and a busted lip.

"Rough mornin', Spot?" Jack asked while he tried to hide his smile and contain the laugh he felt rising up in his throat.

Spot grunted his answer because he feared that he would crack the cut on his mouth open if he spoke, but the look he shot Jack clearly said, ‘Don't start, Jacky.' He sat across the table from Jack and rested his face in his hands. He could only imagine how his day could get worse.

Jack couldn't quit smiling, even when he tried to quit he couldn't. He lifted his arm and waved it at Mr. Tibby. "Hey, Bill! Could we get a cold rag over ‘ere for Spot?" Jack then looked at Spot and shook his head. As long as he'd known Spot, which was going on close to four years now, he had never seen him this beat up from a fight. "So, Spot, what'd ya do? Meet up wid da Delancey brothers?"

Spot narrowed the one eye he could see out of and grunted again. He was in no mood for Jack's jokes. He took the cold rag that Bill Tibby handed him and began to dab it at the dried blood on his lip. Once it was a little better, Spot decided to tell Jack what happened. "I saw Squeaks sellin' in Brooklyn dis mornin', an' my mood was less than good because a dat girl."

Jack understood the whole thing with Squeaks. Jack even wanted to get his hands on the pipsqueak, but knew Spot had first dibs on killing him for what he did to Dana. "Spot it's been almost a year an' Dana's death is still botherin' ya?"

Spot shook his head. "I soaked Squeaks for Dana, but dat ain't da girl I was talkin' ‘bout. I was meanin' dat little Scot dat took me bed last night. Da one dat has a dog, a bull dog at dat, an' da one whose dog slept wid me on da couch. Dat blasted girl." Jack rubbed his eyes as he tried to decipher what Spot had just spit at him, slow as it was, it was still a lot to figure out. Spot continued to dab the rag at his lip, which had started to bleed again because he was talking so much.

"Lemme get dis straight. Ya had a girl sleepin' in your bed wid a dog and da dog slept wid ya on the couch?" Spot nodded. "All right. I understand dat much of it, but where did the girl come from? ‘Cause as a yesterday, ya didn't ‘ave a girl livin' in da Lodgin' House, an' now ya ‘ave one dat took yer room. I'd a thought dat they wouldn't let ‘er take your room."

Spot nodded, but his expression was none the softer. He still glared, but now it wasn't directed at Jack, but at the Scot, who was no where in sight. "Nan, uh, Mrs. Branson told ‘em ta put ‘er dere. Flickers found ‘er half froze undah the bridge. I didn't mind dat. It was dat she had a dog, Jacky. Ya know how I feel about dogs." Jack nodded. He knew that Spot had been scared of them ever since he had been attacked by one soon after they became newsies, but he didn't know that Spot had also been attacked when he was a child either. It was true that Spot hadn't had an easy life. His had actually been the worse of the two because Jack's had gotten better since he escaped his abusive father.

Jack watched Spot for several long beats before he said anything, and the more he watched his friend the more he realized that it wasn't the dog that was bothering him. Sure it was bothering him, but it wasn't the cause of his foul mood. What had him brooding so? "Come on, Spot. What's da real reason your all piss an' vinegar, an' I mean more dan usual."

Spot looked none too pleased at Jack's question, but it was true. Spot was rarely in a perfectly good mood. Something was always just lying under the surface. That's how he had become the most feared and famous newsie in all of New York. "‘Er eyes." Jack raised an eyebrow at that reason. What was bothering him was the girl's eyes? That was the oddest reason he had ever heard of.

"Her eyes? I don't get it." Spot explained what her eyes looked like, but at the same time he couldn't help commenting how beautiful she was and how her voice had an almost lyrical ring to her Scottish brogue. Jack listened and never let the smile that played on his lips be fully seen because he was having what he would later say was a glimpse into the future---Spot's future.

Spot's mood had lightened a little since he talked to Jack. Spot stood up a half an hour later. He had accomplished what he had wanted to accomplish by coming to Manhattan. He had vented some of his stress and confusion out, and he had gotten cleaned up. The last thing he needed was to worry Mrs. Branson when he came in. He knew that she would work herself into a tizzy over his black eye, but it wouldn't be as bad since he had cleaned up his lip a little.

"Well, Jacky-boy, I gotta be headin' back." Jack nodded as Spot started to leave the restaurant. He stopped when the door opened and several newsies came walking in. He said his greetings to Race, Blink and Mush, but didn't say anything to Snoddy. All he could do was glare as Snoddy made some remark about his eye.

"Hey, Spot, nice shiner." Spot gave him a look that said not to push it. Spot still wasn't too sure about what he thought of Snoddy. He had only been a newsie for a month before the strike. Sure he had been loyal, but he didn't fear Spot the way most of the newsies did. Even those that had been around longer than him held a certain reverence for him that bordered on fear. But Snoddy just seemed to not care that Spot could soak him in a minute. Spot shook his head and left Tibby's.

*****

Shannon took her few belongings out of the pockets of her clothes and set them on the dresser in her new room. She laid an unframed picture of her, her mother, her father, and her brother, Sean. The picture had been taken when she had only been four, Sean had been five. The were standing in front of their house in Scotland. Three months later they left for America and had lost Sean. Shannon knew he just had to still be alive. She remembered living in the slums of New York for three months while her father searched frantically for Sean. They had lost him when they were going through immigration. He had been holding her hand, and then when she turned to say something to him, he was gone. After three months of searching, they never found him. Her mother had been too heartbroken to stay in America, so they returned to Scotland. Her father left them a year later and Shannon had been left to take care of her grieve stricken mother till she died a little over a year ago. Shannon took a deep breath and swallowed. She had gotten used to the loneliness that accompanied her mother's death over the last year, but she had never gotten over her father leaving them. She had been a daddy's girl through and through. She shook her head. She refused to think about it because when she did, she got angry, and she didn't like being angry for any reason. It just wasn't in her nature.

Shannon looked around the room and noticed that Sadie was no where to be found. Mrs. Branson had told her that she could move into the room next to hers because the room she was staying in now was Spot's room. Shannon had agreed, but thought that Spot must be a very spoiled person, or a person who was very full of himself. She had a feeling that they wouldn't get along well. She left the room to find her dog. The last thing she needed was for Spot to find her where she shouldn't be. She did remember how he reacted to seeing Sadie in the first place. Calling her a beast. Indeed! Sadie was the kindest dog she had ever owned. Sadie had actually adopted Shannon, not Shannon adopting Sadie. Shannon had only been in New York a week when the dog had scared off some men that were trying to hurt her. Ever since then, Sadie has never left Shannon's side for one minute.

Shannon walked through the Lodging House calling for Sadie. She finally got into Spot's room and found her laying on the bed. "Och, now girl, ye ken Spot doesn't like ye, so why are ye layin' on his bed? We ‘ave our own bed now. So, come one, Sadie girl." The dog only lifted it's head as Shannon talked to it. Shannon sighed. She had to get her out of this room before Spot came home. He didn't know what he would do if this dog was in his room and she wasn't. Shannon sat on the bed and began petting the dog. "Now come on, lass. Ye ken ye can't stay in ‘ere. Our new room is warmer." Shannon talked softly to the dog, but jumped when she heard someone say something behind her.

"I see your feelin' bettah." She turned to see Spot standing in the doorway with one shoulder leaned against the door frame and his legs crossed.

"Aye." Shannon then really looked at his face and couldn't hide the wince that crossed her face as she saw his swollen and blacked eye. The nurturing side of her took over and she stood and walked over to him. She slowly placed her hand on the cheek that wasn't bruised, so she could get a better look at that eye. "What'd ye do? Trip an' hit yer face on a stone."

Spot didn't respond for several long beats. He was too overwhelmed by her. She had willingly touched him, and she seemed generally concerned about what had happened to him. What was worse than that was that her amber eyes had lightened and he could see gold flecks around the outside and the inside of them. They really glowed with concern. It took him a moment to find his voice because for some odd reason that was beyond his grasp he wanted to kiss her. Not a deep kiss, but one that barely brushed her lips. He shook his head to stop from thinking those thoughts. He was supposed to be mad at her, wasn't he? Of course he was. She had kept him up most of the night because her eyes brought back the pain and guilt he had worked for two years to forget.

"I, uh, got in a fight." As soon as he said it, all compassion was gone from her eyes and her touch. She dropped her hand and walked back over to the bed.

"Well, since ye inflicted it on yerself, I see no need tae feel sorry fer ye." Spot glared at the back of her head. How could she be kind one minute and cold the next, but her tone hadn't been cold or unkind. She had just simply stated that she couldn't feel sorry for something that he had brought on himself.

"Ya were tellin' your beast dat ya ain't stayin' ‘ere no more." Shannon whirled around to look at Spot. Her eyes were flashing, but her tone and mannerisms didn't show anger. She wasn't angry, but she was annoyed. That was the second time this boy had called her dog a beast.

"I told ye once she's no' a beast. She's the best dog." She looked back at her dog. "Come on, Sadie. Let's go where we're liked." The dog hopped off the bed and followed Shannon. When she stopped at the door, Sadie did too. Shannon turned to Spot and very cooly said, "I thank ye fer letting me use yer bed." She then left. Spot watched her as she walked down the hall and down the stairs. He sighed as soon as she was out of sight. She was gone. He was glad because now he could get her out of his head and get his life back to normal, but he was still puzzled by the feelings he felt while she had touched his cheek. He had felt at ease for the first time in a long time. Not just about the memories of his parents that haunted him, but oddly enough, he had felt at ease about the loss of Dana. He had truly loved her, but with one touch from Shannon all the pain and longing for Dana had disappeared. The second she had removed her hand, it had all come back again. He shook his head as he put his cane and slingshot in their normal places. He looked forward to being able to sleep in his own bed for a change.

*****

Spot knew he was going to have to face his grandmother some time, but he really wished it was after his black eye and busted lip were healed. He took a deep breath as he left his room in search of her. It was late afternoon and there were several places she could be, but once again he found her in the kitchen. She wasn't cooking as he had expected, but instead she was on her hands and knees cleaning the iron stove. Spot looked behind him to make sure they were alone before he spoke. He knew they were the only ones in the Lodging House because the Scot had left.

"Did ya have a good day, Nana?"

Mrs. Branson smiled when she heard Spot's voice. She stood up and turned around. Both looked shocked when they saw each other. Spot's was because his usually neat and tidy grandmother was covered in soot. The only spot that wasn't dirty on her round face was her crystal blue eyes that mirrored his own. Her shock was because of Spot's black eye. At least she hadn't seen the busted lip yet. He knew she would the moment she got close to him.

"Luke?! What on earth happened to ya?" She walked over as she wiped her hands on her soot covered apron, not that it helped. The apron was black as well. She touched his bruised cheek.

"I'm all right, Nana. I jus' got in a fight. Dat's all." He moved his cheek out of her hands. He wouldn't show it, but her soft touch had hurt like Hell.

"Well, what happened if you had to fight?" She was concerned, but a little angry too. She never liked it when he fought. She knew it was part of surviving on the streets, but she would prefer it if he did, just as every grandmother did.

"I saw Squeaks sellin' on dis side a da East River. I told ‘im if he ever sold in Brooklyn again, I'd soak ‘im wid in an inch a his life, an' I did. I never back down on a promise. I did it for Dana, Nana, so don't look at me like dat." Mrs. Branson's face had gone stern with Spot's explanation, but she understood why. Spot had loved Dana very much and her death had been hard. She had just found Spot again when it happened.

"All right. Did you see you have your room back?" She asked as she sat at the table with Spot.

Spot nodded. "Yeah. I'm glad ta see she's gone. Now maybe I can get ‘im out my mind. I ‘ave a feelin' dat if she stayed, she woulda turned me life upside down. I'm glad she's gone." Mrs. Branson understood what Spot meant, but it wasn't like him to be so cruel to someone he didn't know, especially when he didn't know the circumstances they were in. He may be tough, but he did have a good heart. Something else must have caused him to feel that way.

"Uh, Mrs. Branson, I, uh, I'm gonna take Sadie oout." Spot and Mrs. Branson turned to see Shannon standing in the door to the kitchen with Sadie beside her. Mrs. Branson noticed that she had on her trench coat and worn gloves.

"Now, Shannon, you really should let someone else do that. You don't need to be in the cold right now." Spot was hoping she hadn't heard a word he had said. He didn't know why, but he really didn't want her to hear them. He didn't want to hurt her.

He just didn't know that she had heard everything that he had said, and it had hurt. Shannon didn't know why, but it had hurt a tremendous amount. She had barely had an entire conversation with Spot, but for some reason knowing that he didn't like her had hurt more than she would have imagined. Shannon looked at Spot the entire time she said her response to Mrs. Branson's advice.

"No. I need tae do this. Plus I don't know when I'll be back in. Sadie likes tae go fer really long walks. I'll see ye around." Shannon then left the room and walked into her room and grabbed her few things. She left her room in silence, but wasted no time running to the door.

Spot turned from the door to look at Mrs. Branson. Mrs. Branson was staring at him in shock, but that shock was quickly turning into a glare. "What?!"

"You know what, Luke Conlon. She heard every word you just said, and now she's leaving. She's sick, Luke, and being out in the harsh weather will kill her. Either you get her back here or you'll have another thing on your conscience." Mrs. Branson knew her words were harsh, but she also knew that they needed to be to get her point through Spot's thick scull. Spot only looked at her another minute before he stood up and bolted for the door. He had to find her.

*****

Shannon stopped half way across the Brooklyn Bridge. She was cold and weak. She looked down at Sadie and sighed. “What are we gonna do now, girl? I thought we’d finally found a place tae belong.” She looked out over the water and saw a large piece of ice break away from the ice that lined the edge of the river. She watched as it slowly drifted down the river and out to the Atlantic ocean. She felt just like that sheet of ice, alone and separated from everything. She took a deep breath as tears began to prick the back of her eyes. She refused to cry. She hadn’t cried since she had buried her mother and left Scotland. What was she going to do? She knew she wouldn’t last through the winter because she was still weak from the hypothermia she had caught this last month. She was beginning to feel weak again. She leaned against the rail for support and closed her eyes, willing the dizziness to go away. Her eyes snapped open when she heard a voice she was really wishing she wasn’t hearing.

“Hey! Scot! Wait!” She turned to see Spot running toward her. She turned from the rail and tried to run, but she was too weak and not quite fast enough. Spot grabbed her arm before she could take a full step. “Didn’t ya hear me? I said ta wait.” Shannon knew that he was used to people listening to him, but she wasn’t one of those people. She snatched her arm from him and was hit by another wave of dizziness. She clutched the side of the bridge. Sadie whimpered and nudged Shannon’s leg.

“I’m all right, lass. Just give me a wee minute.” She closed her eyes again in an attempt to push the dizziness away. She opened her eyes and looked at Spot. Her amber eyes sparking. “What are ye chasin’ me down fer?”

“Well, ya don’t need ta be out in dis weather. An’, I, uh, didn’t mean anythin’ I said, Scot.”

“Scot? Ye think that’s me name, don’t ye?” Spot didn’t say anything. “Well, my name’s Shannon MacLain. I’d prefer it if ye’d call me that.” She looked out over the bridge before she looked back at him. She was fighting tears again. Why had what he said hurt so much? She had no success in fighting the tears as one rolled down her cheek. “Ye did mean what ye said, Spot. Ye always mean what ye say aboot somebody if they’re no’ in the room tae hear ye. Ye don’t like me. Admit it.”

Spot couldn’t look at her. He had meant what he said, but it wasn’t her fault. She had done nothing wrong to him. It didn’t help that she was crying. “Aw, come on, Shannon, don’t cry. I can’t stand it when a goyl cries. It ain’t your fault I said dat stuff. Ya had no idea what ya were makin’ me think.” Spot shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. “I’m. . .I’m. . .I’m sorry.” That was the hardest thing he had ever had to say. “It’s jus’ yer eyes. . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence. He didn’t have to explain this to her. “Look, I’m sorry. Please come back ta da Lodgin’ House. Ya can stay as long as ya need ta, an’ I won’t be around ya so dere won’t be a problem. What do ya say?” He absent mindedly took his thumb and wiped a tear from her cheek. He didn’t know why, but he had been compelled to hold her, but he had settled for wiping her cheek.

Shannon took a deep breath as Spot wiped her cheek. She looked into his crystal eyes and saw that he was sincere. But what had made her catch her breath was his touch. His hand was rough from work, but his touch had been tender. She had felt it in the pit of her stomach. Her mind started to swirl and she was suddenly dizzy again. All she could do was nod as everything went black.

Spot had barely removed his hand from her face when she passed out in his arms. He sighed. It looked like he was going to have to carry her back to the Lodging House.

*****

Spot entered the Lodging House at a full run. He looked at the front room and saw that it was full of newsies. Most were from Brooklyn, but there were a few that were from other areas. He didn’t give them a second thought as he carried Shannon through the front room and down the side hall. He had to get her to a bed and fast.

“Nana! I found ‘er!” Every newsie’s head popped up from what they were doing. Not that they had been able to concentrate on what they had been doing since Spot had entered carrying Shannon and being followed by Sadie. Had he actually called Mrs. Branson ‘Nana’ in front of everybody? No. They were just hearing things. Spot never let anyone know his relationship with Mrs. Branson, even though everyone already did. He pushed open the door to the room Shannon had moved into before she had left. Before she had heard what he had thought of her.

“Great!” Mrs. Branson came running down the stairs. For a woman in her sixties, she was in very good shape. She had to be to keep up with the brood of boys that lived in that Lodging House. She stopped when she saw Spot laying Shannon down on the bed. It was almost a repeat of the day before. And this time she seemed paler if that were possible. Spot backed away as Mrs. Branson rushed to take care of her. “What happened?”

“I found ‘er on da bridge, an’ she was just staring at da water. I told ‘er ta wait, but when she saw me she started to run. At least I was faster dan her ‘cause I told ‘er I was sorry an’ ta come back. She agreed an’ passed out.” Mrs. Branson nodded as she looked over Shannon. “Is she gonna be all right, Nana? Please tell me she’s gonna be all right.” He ran his fingers through his hair. If she didn’t make it, it would be his fault. He had said those horrible things, and because of that she had left. Because she had left, she had gotten cold and that had caused her to get sicker. Great! He would have another death on his conscience. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair and swallowed hard. He couldn’t take one more thing on his conscience. “Please tell me she’s gonna be awl right, Nana! I can’t take anoddah death on me. I can’t!”

Mrs. Branson turned around. The worry in her eyes was evident that she wasn’t sure if Shannon would make it or not. Her hypothermia hadn’t gotten worse, but now she was running a fever and that could never be good. She wasn’t coughing, but she may start that at any time and pneumonia wasn’t something that was real survivable, but neither were many other sicknesses that came with exposure to New York’s harsh winters.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t be sure of anything right now. At least you got her back here and now I can call a doctor to have a look at her. All we can do now is wait and see.” Spot nodded. Fear was clear in his eyes. He just knew he had killed someone else. First his father. Then Dana, and now Shannon, a girl he barely knew. It was enough to drive him mad. No wonder his mother had lost her mind. It was easy to do. “Luke, it’s late, and ya do have to sell in the morning. Go upstairs and get some sleep.” Spot nodded again as Mrs. Branson kissed his cheek.

He silently left the room. As he walked through the front room he was asked different questions. All pertaining to Shannon. “Is she gonna be all right, Spot?” “What’d Mrs. Branson say?” “What’d ya do ta make ‘er leave?” He didn’t answer one of them. He just kept walking up the stairs and into his room. Sadie followed him and hopped up on the bed as he took off his shirt and pants. He crawled into bed and actually rubbed Sadie’s head as she laid it on the pillow next to his.

“She’s gonna be awl right, goyl. She will. I hope,” he added the last part as a whisper as he rolled over and closed his eyes.

*****

“AUGHHH!” Spot rolled over and threw the covers off of him. He slipped his pants on over his long john bottoms and walked down stairs. He couldn’t sleep again, and once again it was because of Shannon. It wasn’t because her eyes were bringing up memories he didn’t want. This time it was her that was keeping him awake. How could he sleep when she might not make it? It wasn’t fair. He walked down the hall quietly, as to not wake Mrs. Branson. This not being able to sleep bit was getting old. Sure it had been one thing when he was kept up by all the racket in the Manhattan Lodging House. He understood not being able to sleep last night because he kept thinking of his father, but tonight was his own fault, and he couldn’t bare that. He had to make sure Shannon was all right.

He reached the door to her room and quietly opened it. She was laying motionless on the single bed. The only sign she was alive was that the blankets moved slightly with each shallow breath she took. Spot pulled the chair from the desk across the room and sat beside the bed. He gently touched her forehead to brush some hair out of her face. The hair stuck to her forehead because of the beads of sweat that were forming from her fever. Her eyes squinted tighter at his touch. Was her fever so high that it hurt to be touched? Spot slowly removed his hand as he watched her face smooth back out. She didn’t move the rest of the night. Spot didn’t sleep a wink either. He wouldn’t let himself. He had to stay awake and make sure she made it through the night. Every now and then he would talk to her. Mostly to keep himself awake, and partially in case she could hear him.

“I use ta live in an uppah class neighborhood, but dat was ‘fore my pop killed ‘imself. I had ta become a newsie then ta support myself ‘cause I refused ta go to an orphanage. Afta I became a newsie, I met Jack. He’s me best friend. You’d love ‘im. All da goyls do. When you’re well again, I’ll take ya ta Manhattan ta meet ‘im an’ me other friends. I’m sure dey can help ya find dis Sean guy yer lookin’ for. Whoevah her is. . . .” Spot fell silent for a long time.

Then after his long silence he said, “Ya do know I’m really sorry for what I said? I was confused, an’ I’d been havin’ a rotten day. I saw dis guy dat hurt someone close ta me, an’ I’d been thinkin’ ‘bout me pop da night before. I hadn’t slept in over three days, I guess it’s four now, an’ I usually say stuff I don’t mean when I ain’t had much sleep. Ya could say I kinda get grouchy. When ya wake up, I want ya ta be able ta forgive me. I ain’t exactly sure how ta get ya ta do that, but I’ll think a somethin’.” The last part faded as his head started to slump down. His chin rested on his chest as he finally fell asleep, ten minutes before he was to get up.

Mrs. Branson opened the door to the spare room to find something she had never expected, Spot sleeping in a chair by the bed with one of his hands resting on one of Shannon’s. Had he spent the entire night by her side? Did he really feel that this was all his fault? She couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty because she had made him think that if anything happened to Shannon it would be his fault. She sighed before she woke Spot up.

“Spot? Honey? Ya need to get up. It’s time to get up.” Spot slowly opened his eyes to look at Mrs. Branson.

“Mornin’, Nana.” She smiled as he quickly took his hand off of Shannon’s.

“Were you down here all night?” Spot nodded. “Did you sleep any?” Spot shook his head. “Why don’t ya not sell today. You need your rest or you’ll be sick too. Go up to bed and get some much needed sleep.” Spot normally fought tooth and nail when it came to missing work. He never missed when he was sick and being tired was no reason to miss either, but he was too tired to argue. He simply nodded and left the room as quietly as he had entered it in the middle of the night. As soon as Spot was gone, Mrs. Branson went about checking on how Shannon was doing.

*****

“Well, Doctor, what’s wrong with the dear girl?” Mrs. Branson asked as the doctor stood up from examining the still unconscious Shannon.

“Well, on top of having a mild to bordering on severe case of hypothermia, she has the early signs of whooping cough. I’ll give you some medicine to start giving her tonight to stop the cough from starting. We’ve caught it early enough, so she should be over it in a few weeks. Until then, she is to stay in bed and sleep as much as possible. She is only to get out of bed when it’s necessary.” Mrs. Branson nodded. She had a feeling this girl would obey everything she was told to do, since she had obeyed when she had told her to go to bed the day before.

“Thank you, Doctor.” The doctor nodded and gave Mrs. Branson the prescribed medicine before he left. Mrs. Branson sighed a much needed sigh of relief. Shannon was going to be all right, and Spot would be very relieved.

Several hours later Spot slowly walked down the stairs. He is scratching his head as he tried to become fully awake. He pulled his suspenders up over his long johns. He did feel better now that he’d finally gotten some sleep, but he didn’t feel real great because he didn’t know what was going to happen to Shannon. He looked around the Lodging House to find that Mrs. Branson was no where in sight. Good. He wanted to look in on Shannon with out anyone hearing what he had to say.

He quietly opened the door to her room. He held his breath as he entered till he saw that her blankets were still moving with each shallow breath. When he saw her take a breath he slowly let out his. She was still alive. He had a feeling that Mrs. Branson had called the doctor in to have a look at her. He just hoped that the doctor’s report had been good. He’d ask as soon as Mrs. Branson got back. He sat in the chair that was still by the bed. Shannon hadn’t moved an inch. Was she asleep now, or was she still unconscious? Spot ran a finger along her pale cheek.

“Glad ta see ya made it t’rough da night. Ya had me scared, an’ I rarely get scared.” He let his hand drop from her face to his lap. “I’ll tell ya somethin’, Scot. Ya’ve turned my life upside down fasta dan anybody else has, minus me pop.” He smiled as he told her this. He had called her ‘Scot’, and he knew it would anger her if she could hear him. He decided that that would be his pet name for her. From now on she wouldn’t be Shannon to him, but Scot.

Spot continued to talk to her about things he usually only told his grandmother. He told her about his childhood growing up on the Upper West Side. He never told anybody about his past. Not even Jack knew everything about him. He found himself dying to know more about her, but he knew he would have to wait for her to wake up, but mostly for her to forgive him, however long that would take.

Spot sat beside Shannon’s bed till he heard someone walking down the hall. He stood up and slowly walked out of the room. He was hoping that no one would be there, so he could slip out without anyone seeing that he had been in there. He had no such luck. He backed out of the room and right into Mrs. Branson.

“Did you sleep well, Luke?” Spot jumped when he heard his grandmother’s voice.

“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say. He had actually been caught off guard for once in his life.

“I see you were checking on Shannon. You can let your conscience have a rest. She’s gonna be all right. She just needs to stay in bed for a few weeks, but she will be fine.” Spot nodded. He was happy that she would be fine. This meant that he hadn’t killed her, but he must have made her sicker than she already was.

“What’d da doc say, Nana?”

“That she has the early stages of whooping cough and that she should stay in bed for close to two weeks. She can only get out of bed when necessary, and no other time. He gave me some medicine for her to take for the cough.”

Spot looked puzzled. “But she ain’t got a cough.”

Mrs. Branson smiled. “No, but she will be getting one any day now, and this medicine is to keep the cough from coming on.”

Spot nodded. He scratched his head and debated on if he should ask the question that was weighing heavy on his mind or not. Did he cause her to get worse? He was dreading the answer, so he almost didn’t ask it, but curiosity got the better of him. “Nana, did da doc say when she got worse? I mean---did I cause ‘er ta get worse?”

Mrs. Branson put a hand on her grandson’s arm. “Luke, honey, she already had what she has when Flickers found her. You did nothing to her. True the cold yesterday didn’t help any, but that little bit of exposure did nothing except make her fever go higher. This isn’t your fault.” Spot released the breath he had been holding. He hadn’t made her worse. He wasn’t liable, but would Shannon see it that way? He had to get her to forgive him for this. Because of this set back, she wouldn’t be able to look for Sean MacLain till she was better. He knew that Sean was someone important to her, but who was he?

*****

Spot’s visits in the middle of the day became a regular thing. He would always wait till after lunch to stop by to see Shannon. He knew the Lodging House was always empty at that time of day. He would sit by her bed and watch her sleep while he told her about him and his past. One day he even told her about the strike. His talks with her usually lasted close to an hour. After the hour he would leave before Mrs. Branson would come back from her errands. Spot would never admit being there in the middle of the day. Nor would he admit that he was quickly growing quite fond of Shannon, and Sadie for that matter. He took Sadie for her morning and evening walks. Sure he was still scared of her, but he felt he owed it to Shannon to do this for her while she couldn’t.

It had been four days now since Shannon had gotten deathly ill, and it was the fourth day that Spot had stopped by to see her in the middle of the day. He slowly opened the door so it wouldn’t creek and wake her up. He opened the door to find Shannon was awake and sitting up in bed. Spot tried to slip out of the room with out being seen, but he wasn’t fast enough. Shannon had seen the door start to slowly open out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see Spot trying to back out of the doorway.

“Spot?” Spot stopped and entered the room.

“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her. He was embarrassed that he had been caught.

“‘Ave a seat.” She motioned for the chair that was still by the bed. Spot sat down and waited for the yelling to begin. He was sure she was furious with him. He had never seen her mad, annoyed, but never mad.

“Ya mus’ be feelin’ bettah.” Shannon nodded.

“Aye.” She looked around the room. “Have ye seen Sadie?”

“Da last time I saw ‘er she was in my bed.” Spot said it like her being there was no big deal. Shannon didn’t know that ever since she had been sick Sadie had been sleeping in Spot’s room.

“She’s in yer room?” Spot nodded. Shannon couldn’t help giving a small ironic laugh. “That’s is somethin’ I didna expect.” They fell silent for a moment and the air grew tense. Spot had a feeling that the questions he had been dreading were about to come. “Spot, I, uh, wanna thank ye fer bringing me back ‘ere. Ye saved my life.”

Spot was in shock. Had she just thanked him for bringing her back? What about what he’d said that made her leave? Wasn’t she still the least bit hurt about that? “Uh, you’re welcome.” Spot looked down at his hands before he looked into her amber eyes, which he knew would be his undoing. He had been fine these last few days because he hadn’t been able to see her eyes, but now that he could, he knew that his memories were going to come back to haunt him. He looked up and saw that her eyes were focused on him. He smiled a weak and unsure smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re bettah, somewhat. I, uh, hafta be gettin’ back ta sellin’. I’ll talk to ya later.” He stood a quickly as he could.

“Spot, wait.” He stopped and looked at her. “Ye don’t have tae avoid me if ye don’t want tae.” Spot nodded. He hated to tell her that he had to or he would drive himself crazy because of everything he was feeling at that moment and what he had felt in the past.

“I’m afraid I hafta. Sorry, Scot.” He left the room without another word. He shut the door and closed his eyes. He had really enjoyed talking to her when she had been sick, and now he couldn’t do that anymore. What was he going to do? When she had been sick, he found that guilt was the reason that he had checked on her everyday and had talked to her. But now that she was awake and getting better, he found that he had actually enjoyed watching her sleep. To confuse him even more, the feelings he had felt the day she left were back. All the pain he had been feeling for the last year over Dana was gone. The haunting memories of his parents were gone, except they came back when he saw her eyes. Even now the memories weren’t that strong. Spot shook his head as he walked out of the Lodging House. ‘Why does dat goyl have so much power ovah what I think an’ feel?’

*****

Snoddy looked up as he heard the bell over the door ring. Spot slowly walked into Tibby’s as if he wasn’t sure of what he was doing. Snoddy watched Spot and couldn’t help thinking Spot looked as if he had just lost his best friend. He had been visiting Manhattan a lot lately. Hadn’t he been here a few days earlier talking to Jack? And now he was back? According to the others Spot rarely visited Manhattan unless it was important. “Plannin’ on movin’ ta Manhattan, Spot.”

Spot looked at Snoddy for a moment before he said anything. “Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders. Spot watched Snoddy as he sat down at the next table. There was something about this particular newsie that he didn’t like. He wasn’t sure quite what it was, but he knew he didn’t like it. During the strike he had stayed loyal. He hadn’t turned scab. Only Jack had done that and he had forgiven him for that. No, there was something else about Snoddy that Spot didn’t like. The only thing he knew about him was his newsie name. This was normal though since most newsies didn’t talk about their past. Jack was the only one that knew Spot’s past. Everybody knew Jack’s but that wasn’t by his choice.

“So, what brings ya ova ‘ere?” Snoddy asked after several long beats of silence.

“I need ta talk ta Jack. Dat’s all,” Spot snapped. He didn’t feel like talking to him. Spot looked down at the stack of papers that were under his hand. Maybe he could wait till after lunch and he could spend the rest of the afternoon selling with Jack and talking to him about Shannon. All he wanted to know was if Jack could kind of be searching for Sean MacLain when he had the time. He was definitely not going to tell him about his confusing feelings he was having when he was around Shannon.

“Well, Cowboy, should be in soon. He an’ Dave were supposed ta go ova ta Queens dis mornin’.” Spot nodded. They both fell silent. Spot tried not to look at Snoddy because every time he did, he got this over whelming feeling of anger. It was almost as if Snoddy had done something to him, but he hadn’t. And this wasn’t caused by Spot’s odd mood either. He had always felt this way when it came to Snoddy. Spot suddenly stood up from the table he was sitting at. If he didn’t get out of Tibby’s soon, he was going to soak the poor guy for what would appear to be for no reason.

“Look, I ain’t got da time ta wait for Jack. Tell ‘im ta meet me at da bridge dis afternoon. I’ll wait dere.” Snoddy nodded. Spot lookeda t Snoddy one last time before he stormed out of Tibby’s with a muffled yell as he pushed the door open.

Needless to say, Snoddy was more than a little confused when it came to Spot’s hasty departure. He wasn’t confused by his cold mannerisms toward him. That had been the same since he had joined the newsies last summer, but toady it seemed worse than normal. Snoddy had given up trying to figure out why Spot didn’t like him shortly after he had met him. According to everybody it took Spot a while to decide how he felt about anybody new. Snoddy just guessed it was taking him longer to get used to him than normal.

*****

Jack approached the Brooklyn Bridge just after he had finished his lunch and gotten the evening edition of “The World”. He saw Spot selling his papers from that morning. Jack was a little more than puzzled when it came to Spot lately. In the last few days he had been over to Manhattan more than he had been since the strike. Jack pulled his only coat closer around him as he started to feel the cold winter wind blow off the East River.

“Spot!” Jack called from where he was. The further he was from the river the better. He didn’t like the river wind during the winter. The summer wind was different. It brought a much needed relief from the summer heat. Spot saw Jack and started to walk to him. They met a few yards from the river. Spot sat on the bench that was there, and Jack sat beside him. “So, what’s up, Spot, if ya had ta meet me ‘ere?”

Spot looked at Jack for a minute before he looked out over the river. Across the river was the exact spot where they had found Dana’s body a few short hours after she had fallen in the river. Spot had planned to talk to Jack about the things he had been feeling when it came to Shannon, but he was suddenly questioning what he was going to say, so he quickly changed his reason for wanting to talk to Jack. “It’s about Shannon.” Jack looked at Spot funny. Shannon? Spot realized that he had never actually used Shannon’s real name when he talked about her to Jack. “Da Scot.” Jack nodded with recognition. “She’s finally awake, an’ I t’ought that maybe we could start helpin’ her look for her dis guy she’s lookin’ for. All I know is dat his name is Sean MacLain. Could ya let da guys know ta keep deir eyes an’ ears out for anybody wid that name?”

Jack nodded again. “Sure, Spot. Ya know we’ll be glad ta help. How is she related to dis guy?”

Spot shrugged. “I have no idea. I try to talk to her as little as possible.” Spot had been looking out over the river the entire time. He finally turned to look at Jack. “T’anks for the help, Jacky. I, uh, gotta get back ta Brooklyn.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. I’ll sees ya, Spot.” Spot stood and started toward the bridge.

*****

“Now, Shannon, the doctor said you are to stay in bed for a few weeks.” Mrs. Branson instructed. Shannon was shaking her head the entire time.

“Ye don’t understand. I have tae find Sean. I have nare time tae waste.” Shannon was pleading with Mrs. Branson as if her life depended on it.

“I know you do, but Shannon it would kill you if you went out in this weather with you being so sick. You are to stay in bed till you are well, and I will hear no more argument. Is that understood?” Once again Mrs. Branson had scolded, which was something that was unfamiliar to her. Shannon nodded and instantly began to sulk. “I’ll tell Spot to have his boys and some of the others from Manhattan, Queens, and the other islands to keep an eye out for him. How does that sound?”

Shannon shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.” Mrs. Branson smiled at Shannon’s pouting.

Shannon continued to sulk till she heard someone in the hall outside of her room. The foot steps stopped just on the other side of her door. ‘Please let it be Spot,’ Shannon couldn’t help thinking that. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to see him so bad, but she did. Maybe it was because he said he would steer clear of her at all costs? Or maybe she wanted to ask him if he would help her look for Sean while she was stuck in bed? That was it. She just wanted to ask for his help. Shannon waited to see if he would come in, but he never did. It was another minute before the footsteps started again, and they were heading back in the same direction they had come from.

*****

Spot stood at Shannon’s door while he debated on if he should go in and tell her that he had enlisted Jack and his newsies to help search for whoever this Sean guy was. He finally decided that it would be best if he didn’t. That way she wouldn’t haunt his dreams again, and she wouldn’t have a chance to yell at him for making her worse. Sure she had said she had been sick before hand, but he had still been the reason she had run out of the Lodging House and that had caused her fever to spike really high.

Spot finally turned from the door and headed up to his room to drop off his cane and slingshot before he went into the bunk room to watch the nightly poker game. He decided he might even play a few hands to keep his mind off of Shannon.

*****

After playing more than a few hands of poker and losing most of them, Spot said his good nights to everybody and went to bed. He hadn’t even seen his grandmother that day, but he was too tired and too frustrated to talk to anybody about anything that had any relevance to his life. And he had a feeling that if he talked to Mrs. Branson, she would tell him what the doctor had said about Shannon, and she was quickly having more and more of an impact on his life.

Spot sighed when he saw that Sadie was still laying in his bed. “What are ya still doin’ ‘ere? Why don’t ya go sleep in bed wid Scot?” Sadie only opened an eye to look at Spot before she fell back asleep. Spot sighed again when he realized that the dog wasn’t moving from it’s spot in his bed. “I give up. Ya can sleep there if ya want ta, but don’t ya dare wake me up in da middle a the night wanting to go out.” He took off his shirt and boots before he crawled into bed. His room got rather cold at night, and the freezing winter weather didn’t help any, so he usually only took off his shirt and just slept in his pants and his long johns. As soon as he was situated, he looked over to his left and saw Sadie staring at him. Spot rolled his eyes and slowly moved his hand to pet the dog. “Why do ya insist on sleepin’ up ‘ere? It’d be warmer downstairs.” Sadie whimpered and then licked Spot on the cheek. “Don’t do that.” Spot wiped his cheek and turned his back to the dog. He fell asleep mumbling something about stupid dogs and Scots.

Spot slowly walked down the basement steps. He was in search of some canned peaches. The cook had asked him to see if he could get them for her so she could make her delicious peach cobbler. He hated going down in the basement, but it had to be done. He reached the bottom of stairs and turned toward the pantry that held all of the canned foods the family needed. He stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was this real, or was he having a nightmare? No, he knew it was real. Spot couldn’t believe his eyes. His father was hanging from the rafters of the basement. Spot stood there for several long moments before he found he was able to find his voice and that his legs would move. “NOOO! Papa!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, and it was only a matter of time before his mother, the cook, and the one maid they were able to employ came running down the stairs.

Spot sat up in a bolt. He was sweating. He hadn’t dreamt of that morning in years, and suddenly he felt as if it had just happened. He laid back down and closed his eyes, but that didn’t last long because the moment they closed he saw his father hanging limp from the noose he had made. Spot threw the covers off of him and got out of bed. He paced the room for several minutes as he fought the urge to go down stairs and talk to Shannon about everything that was going on in his head. He stopped pacing in the middle of the room and looked at Sadie, who was watching him with much interest. He then walked out of his room and headed down the stairs. He stopped outside of Shannon’s room and took a few deep breaths. “Maybe she’ll be so asleep dat she won’t hear me talkin’ to ‘er.” He quietly opened the door and entered. The room was dark except for what little bit of moon light shown in through the window. It laid on Shannon’s face and made her seem almost angelic.

Spot sat in the chair by her bed and watched her sleep for what felt like an eternity. He finally said something, but made sure it was barely above a whisper. “I had da worst dream tanight, Scot. I dreamt of when I found me pop hangin’ in the basement. I haven’t had dreams like dat in a long time, but ever since I met ya I’ve been havin’ again. The odd thing is dat when I touch ya, or you touch me, all dat goes away. I need it ta go away.” He took a long pause to make sure she wasn’t awake before he continued. “I jus’ feel dat. . .I mean. . .I know dat somehow when we touch, even if by accident my life changes. It scares me, but I want my life ta change. I want all da bad memories ta go away.” He got a small smile to cross his face, which was a rare thing. “Don’t tell anybody I said dis, but I ain’t as tough as I seem. I’m jus’ as scared and insecure as all dese other guys. I jus’ hide it betta.” He watched her sleep for several more minutes before he stood up and started to leave the room. He felt that he could finally sleep. He reached for the door and his foot stepped on a floor board that creaked. He quickly looked over to Shannon to see her slowly opening her eyes.

“Spot? Is that you?” Her voice was deep with sleep as she tried to look through the dark to see who was in her room.

“Yeah.” Spot almost didn’t answer. He had actually thought that maybe he could leave before she said anything and she would have thought it was all a dream.

“What are ye doin’ here?” She hadn’t moved, but Spot could feel her eyes focused on him.

“I, uh, came ta see if you were all right. How ya feelin’?”

“Tired. It’s in the middle of the night.” Spot nodded.

“Sorry ta have woke ya. I’ll go now.” He left without another word. Shannon just stared after him. Spot Conlon confused her beyond words, but his eyes hypnotized her too. Even though the room had been dark, and she couldn’t really make out his face, she could still see his eyes, and that cold edge he had to them. She wondered what they would look like if he was happy. Would they sparkle?

*****

It had been two weeks since Spot had gone into Shannon’s room in the middle of the night, and he hadn’t seen her since. He hadn’t had a nightmare since that night either. Spot just knew that the best thing for him was to avoid her at all costs, so he had. That even meant only seeing his grandmother late at night, when he knew Shannon was asleep. This was just incase she was able to get out of bed and then he might run into her.

Even though he hadn’t seen her for two weeks, her eyes were still fresh in his mind. And because of that now annoying fact, Spot hadn’t been able to get his mother out of his head since Shannon had come into his life. Spot looked up from the sidewalk and shifted the last of his papers in his hand. He looked up at the sign that was over the door, “New York State Asylum”. He took a deep breath before he entered. He hadn’t been through those doors since he was thirteen. It had been three years, and it didn’t surprise him that it hadn’t changed any. The floors and walls were still white. It still smelled the same. The smell was that of stale air and antiseptics. His heels clicked on the tiled floors.

Spot closed his eyes for a brief second and swallowed hard. He could see that day three years ago as clear as if it were happening all over again. He was walking down this very corridor, holding his mother’s hand. He looked over at her and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but failed miserably. “You’re gonna be fine ‘ere, Ma. Dey’re gonna take good care of ya. I promise.” She didn’t respond. She just stared down the hall that seemed as if it would never end. Her sandy blond hair fell in a mass of unbrushed curls. Her blue eyes were glazed over. It seemed as if the fun loving, compassionate person he had known as his mother had never existed.

“I know, Kevin. He is a good boy. He does take good care of me.” Spot’s mother was talking to his father again. Spot sighed and continued to lead her down the hallway. They found the door that had admissions on it and Spot opened it and led his mother in.

“Can I help you?” The nurse behind the counter said.

Spot looked around before he answered. For that brief moment he was questioning what he was doing. He could take care of his mother the way she was, couldn’t he? He shook his head because he knew he couldn’t. “Yeah. I’d like ta admit my mudda. She’s keeps talkin’ ta people dat ain’t there.” The nurse nodded.

“She’ll have to be seen by a doctor, so if you could fill out this information I’d be glad to get her in as soon as possible.” Spot took the form he was handed and began to fill it out. By the end of the day his mother had seen three doctors and each had diagnosed her with schizophrenia. Spot had left his mother there that day, and hadn’t gone back to see her.

Spot opened his eyes slowly and shook his head. He wasn’t going to let guilt or pain get in his way this morning. He was going to see his mother and talk to her about everything he needed to say. He walked up to the admissions office and took a deep breath. He opened the door and was surprised to find the same nurse behind the desk. This really was starting to feel a little too familiar.

“Can I help you?”

Spot nodded. “Yeah. Could ya tell me what room Sybelle Conlon is in?”

“We have to have all records of visitors. What relation are you to the patient?”

“I’m her son, Spot, uh, I mean, Luke Conlon.” The nurse looked at him funny for his stumble, but wrote down Luke Conlon in a sign in book.

“She’s in room nineteen C. It’s down this hallway and to the right.” Spot nodded and left the office.

He found his mother’s room with no problem. He slowly opened the door to find his mother sitting in a chair and staring out the window. He could turn around and leave with her being none the wiser. Spot shook his head. He had to know if she had gotten any better over the last three years. He quietly entered the room and walked over to her. He knelt down beside the chair and she turned to look at him.

“Hello.” So she was coherent enough to know that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

“Hey, Ma. Do ya know who this is?”

Sybelle didn’t answer right away. She just looked at Spot for a moment. “You look familiar.” She looked into his blue eyes and saw herself reflected in it. “Kevin?” Spot’s heart sank. She thought it was his father. “Kevin?”

“No, Ma. It’s me, Luke. Your son.” Sybelle looked at Spot for another moment before she shook her head.

“You can’t be Luke. He’s just a little boy, and you’re a handsome man. You do resemble him though. Doesn’t he Kevin?” Spot’s heart sank a little bit more. She still talked to his father as if he were in the room with them.

Spot gave up in that instance when it came to talking to his mother about anything that was important to him. Instead he just sat there and held her hand while she talked about her son and her husband. She didn’t recognize him, and she was treating him like he was a complete stranger. It was killing Spot to see her that way, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. After two hours of kneeling and holding her hand, Spot said his goodbyes and left the room. He found her doctor and found out how she was doing. The doctor basically said that she was in the same shape mentally that she had been in when she came in, but physically she was in perfect health. She stayed in her room most of the time. The only time she came out was to walk through the court yard that was outside of her window. Spot thanked the doctor and left the hospital. He threw his papers away as he hit the street. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sell anything in the mood he was in. He just needed to go back to the Lodging House and talk to his grandmother about everything that was going on.

*****

Shannon looked up and down the hallway before she quietly crept out of her room. It had been two weeks since she had gotten sick, and she was feeling just fine. She refused to stay in her bed another minute. She walked down the hall and into the main part of the Lodging House. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Mrs. Branson dusting the front room. She turned to head in the opposite direction, but she was too slow.

“What do you think your doing out of bed?”

Shannon turned back around to see the small woman staring at her with her hands on her hips. “I was comin’ oout here tae see if ye needed any help.”

Mrs. Branson shook her head. “I don’t think so. You are to go straight back to bed.”

“Why? I’ve been better for near two days. I should be able tae help ye. I won’t go back to bed.” Shannon crossed her arms. She normally wasn’t so stubborn, but this time she refused to be accommodating and do as she was told. “Now, are ye gonna let me help ye or no’?”

Mrs. Branson shook her head and smiled. “I guess I have no choice. Why don’t you finish dusting in here, and I’ll move onto the bunk room and washroom upstairs. God knows I always have my hands full for hours with those rooms.” Shannon smiled as she was handed a dusting rag before the older lady left the room.

She had only been gone a second when Shannon noticed Sadie was lying on the couch. “Och, now, where have ye been hidin’?” The dog got off of the couch and walked over to it’s owner. Shannon bent down and began rubbing the dog. “I’ve missed ya bein’ in me bed. I ‘ave. ‘Ave ye been keepin’ Spot company ‘cause I’ve been sick?” The dog licked Shannon’s face. “Well, I’m better now, girl. Ye can come back tae sleepin’ in my bed fer a while.” Sadie barked and then walked back over to the couch. Shannon set about dusting the room that didn’t look the least bit dusty.

*****

Spot entered the Lodging House to find Shannon standing on the counter to the front desk as she was trying to dust the ceiling fan above it. Spot stood behind her and watched her for several minutes. She hadn’t seen him come in, so he was enjoying watching her try to reach the blades that were farther out of her reach. Spot cleared his throat before he spoke.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll fall.” Shannon turned around really fast and lost her balance. Spot took a step forward and caught her as she fell. He was holding her tight as Shannon instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck to support herself. “Ya okay?”

Shannon nodded. “No thanks tae ye.” But her retort wasn’t cold. It was just a statement, and it was true. She probably wouldn’t have fallen if Spot hadn’t scared her like he had.

“I’m sorry.” He actually wasn’t sorry in the least. He liked holding her in his arms, and he had just noticed that neither of them had moved to let the other go. “Ya feelin’ better?” Shannon nodded. A string of hair had fallen in her face when she nodded her head. Spot moved one hand from her back and gently pushed it behind her ear. Shannon closed her eyes to his soft touch. It amazed her how his rough hands seemed to turn to velvet when he ran his finger down her cheek. “Ya’ve got beautiful hair.” Spot hadn’t even realized that he had said that till she said something in response.

“Thank ye.” Spot nodded and gave a half smile. He leaned his head forward slightly, and this brought their faces within inches of each other. With one more movement he could be kissing her. Spot realized this a quickly let her go.

“Glad I was here ta catch ya, an’ I’m glad you’re feelin’ better.” Spot left the front room and headed upstairs to his room. ‘My day is jus’ gettin’ better and better,’ he thought.

Shannon just stared after Spot. ‘What just happened here?’ She couldn’t help feeling confused and even a little hurt. She had thought that Spot was captivating when she first saw him, and had actually fallen in love with his eyes. Now he starts to kiss her and then just lets her go and doesn’t say a word about it. He just leaves. Shannon shook her head. She maybe nice and quiet, but there was a time for her to not be so nice, and quiet and this was the time. She started up the stairs behind Spot. She found him in the washroom with Mrs. Branson.

“I saw ‘er taday. She hasn’t changed. She’s still talkin’ ta Pop like ‘e’s still here. She didn’t even know who I was.” Spot moved so his grandmother could get to the next sink.

“Now, did you really expect her to change?” Spot didn’t answer. “Spot, she’s got a mental disorder. Those just don’t go away.”

“I know, but I was still hopin’.” Mrs. Branson smiled at the boy and let the subject drop. Spot didn’t say another word and left the washroom.

Shannon leaned against the wall in the hallway. Spot had gone to see somebody today, but who? His mother? Sister? She would worry about that later. She knew he’d had a rough day, but right now she wanted to talk to him about what almost happened downstairs.

Spot walked into the hallway and nearly hit the roof when he saw Shannon leaning against the wall. “Gawd, Scot, ya nearly scared me ta death.”

Shannon’s confusion wasn’t helped by him still calling her ‘Scot’. “I told ye that my name is Shannon. What part o’ that can ye no’ understand?”

Spot shrugged and started to walk off, but he said over his shoulder. “I like Scot betta.”

Shannon glared at his back. This was going to be an easy thing. She had decided that she wasn’t going to lose her temper, but now it seemed inevitable. She followed Spot into his room. “Well, I don’t like Scot.” Spot shrugged. “Yer impossible! The only reason I came up ‘ere was tae ask ye why ye started tae kiss me downstairs and then ye jus’ walk off as nothin’ ever ‘appened? Ye canna do that.”

Spot looked at her with no expression on his face, but the sparkle of amusement was clear in his eyes. Shannon had been right when he was happy or enjoying something his eyes sparkled like fresh spring water. “Yeah I can do that, an’ I believe I jus’ did. Look, Scot,” he said it this time because he knew it would get her more riled up, “I wasn’t thinkin’ when I did dat. But now dat I am thinkin’ a lil’ more clearly. . . .” Spot trailed off as he walked up to Shannon. He put his hand on the side of her face and leaned down closer. He got so close to her lips that he could smell her sweet breath and she could feel his on her skin. She closed her eyes and waited for the kiss that she knew would be coming, but it never did. Instead she heard Spot say, “I did it downstairs, an’ I can do it up here.” He let go of Shannon and walked across the room. Shannon just stared at him in disbelief.

“You Spot Conlon are jus’. . .eww!” Shannon was so mad that she couldn’t even finish the sentence. She left the room and stormed downstairs.

Spot turned around and let his head drop a little. He had wanted to kiss her in the worst way, but he was actually scared too. What if he did, and he liked it? What if he lost his heart to her? Then what? Would she leave him just the same way his father, mother and Dana had? He knew two of those hadn’t been by choice, but they had left him just the same. He had to straighten things out with Shannon, but first he was going to let her cool down. The last thing he needed was for her to get mad enough at him that she to run away again.

*****

It had been two days since Spot had tried to kiss Shannon, and every time he had tried to talk to her, she would walk off as if she hadn’t heard or seen him. Spot wasn’t use to that kind of treatment. No one ignored him. But for some reason, that was beyond his comprehension, it bothered him more than normal. He had finally come up with a way to talk to Shannon without her being able to walk away. Now his only problem was getting Mrs. Branson to allow him to go through with it.

“But, Nana, she’s been betta for two days now. She hadn’t coughed or run a fever. So why can’t she?” Spot was near whining and bordering on yelling at his grandmother, which was something he never did. He never yelled at her.

“And I’m telling you she doesn’t need to be out in the cold. She could get her cough back. She could get some other sort of cold. She doesn’t need that, Luke.”

Spot sighed and crossed his arms. He never got angry with Mrs. Branson over anything, but at this point he was ready to throttle her. She was messing up his plan to fix things with Shannon. Just when he was ready to give in, another idea hit him like a punch in the stomach. “She’s been betta for two days, an’ I promised ‘er that I’d take ‘er ta Manhattan ta meet Jack an’ ta see if he would help look for Sean.” Mrs. Branson raised an eyebrow at Spot.

“Didn’t you already ask him to help?”

“Yeah, but,” Spot shrugged, “I haven’t seen if ‘e’s had any luck. Look, Nana, she’s gotta start payin’ ‘er way around here some time, so why not now? I’ll only let ‘er get twenty papes, an’ she can sell ‘em while we walk ta Manhattan. We’ll eat at Tibby’s an’ afta dat I’ll bring her right back here. I promise. She’ll on’y be out dis mornin’, an’ ya can make ‘er rest in da afternoon.”

Mrs. Branson had never been able to work her way around Spot. He was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and apparently this was one of those times. “Fine. You have her right back here as soon as you are done with lunch.” Spot smiled as he heard he had won that little disagreement. He and Mrs. Branson never actually fought, but there was a lot they didn’t agree on. Spot walked over to Mrs. Branson and kissed her on the cheek.

“T’anks, Nana. Ya jus’ saved my butt.” The comment puzzled Mrs. Branson, but she didn’t think much about it. She knew Spot always had his reasons for doing everything.

*****

Shannon woke up with a start when she heard someone pounding on her door. She closed her eyes trying to ignore it, so she could go back to sleep. She didn’t have that good of luck when it came to that. She looked at the door as it started to open and Spot walked in.

“Come on, Scot, ya gotta get up. Ya’ve got papes ta sell. Carry da bannah!” Shannon just watched him leave like he was a mad man. She sat there for several seconds before she decided to get up and put on her clothes.

Spot shut the door and leaned against the wall. He would give her a few minutes and then he was going in there again. He smiled as he realized why Kloppman enjoyed waking the guys in Manhattan this way. It was fun. He just didn’t know that the only way to get those guys out of bed was to force them out. Just as Spot was reaching for the door handle, the door opened and Shannon was standing in front of him.

“Are ye daft, mon? What is so all fired important that ya had tae wake me before dawn?” She sounded wide awake, but her eyes showed otherwise. They acted as if they didn’t want to stay open.

“At least yer speakin’ ta me now.” With that comment he got a glare. “Ya’ve got woik ta do. Da distribution alley opens in a few minutes an’ we hafta get down there.” He grabbed her wrist and started to lead her out of the Lodging House.

“Distribution alley? Spot, what ye talkin’ aboot?” Spot didn’t answer her. “Spot, answer me!” He still didn’t give her an answer as he led her down a maze of alleys. When he finally stopped she saw that all the boys from the Lodging House were there, and some boys she hadn’t seen before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Spot finally decided to answer her questions. “Dis is the distribution alley. It’s where we get our papes. Otherwise we’re jus’ kids wid no money, an’ wid no money we have no place ta stay. If your gonna keep stayin’ at da Lodgin’ House, ya gotta pay your way like da rest of us, so dat means sellin’ papes. Ya think ya can do dat?”

Shannon looked at him and then at everybody else. “I ken I can do that. I just have tae learn first.” Spot nodded. He knew she would have no idea how to hawk the headlines, and that was all part of his plan.

“I know. Yer gonna sell wid me till ya get the hang of it, an’ till ya know Brooklyn betta.” Spot had led her down the maze of alleys on purpose. The distribution alley was three blocks down from the Lodging House, but if she didn’t know that, the more she would have to sell with him. Plus it helped with his plan to be able to talk to her about the kiss they almost shared, and other things. He couldn’t help finding himself compelled to get to know her better.

“Fine. I’ll sell with ye, but donna think I’m enjoyin’ it, ye hear?” Spot nodded at her statement. Spot doubted she would enjoy it. Few newsies enjoyed their first few days. It was only after they had figured out ways to make more off of a customer that they enjoyed it. “So what do I do first?”

“Well, ya got any money?” Shannon gave him a look that said if she had money, would Flickers have found her under the bridge? “Okay, well, I’ll buys your papes taday, an’ you can pay me back lata.” Shannon nodded. Spot bought his usual fifty papers and Shannon twenty. When he handed them to her, she nearly dropped them. She had never realized how heavy they were.

Shannon followed Spot out of the distribution alley and onto the street. She had no idea what she was doing, so she just followed his lead. He held up his paper and started to walk down the street. The next thing she knew he was yelling out the most horrific news she had ever heard. “City block caches fire! Three dead!” Shannon stopped walking and put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my! That’s sae terrible. Who was killed?”

Spot turned to look at her. “Two dogs and a cat, and it was only a run down building in Queens.”

She looked at Spot with annoyance in her eyes. “Yer lyin’ tae these people!” Spot rolled his eyes.

“I ain’t lyin’. What is it wid new people that make ‘em think we’re lyin’? As Jacky would put it---it’s improvin’ da truth a little.”

For some reason it bothered Shannon a great deal for him to mention this Jacky person when she barely knew Spot. “Ye ken, I don’t really want tae hear aboot what your girlfriend has tae say aboot lying. It’s lying plain and simple, mon, and there is no excuse fer it.” Shannon started to storm off as she called out the actual headlines. To her dismay no one bought from her.

“No one is interested in da real headline. Ya gotta make it interesting.” Spot said as he walked by her. “An’ Jacky ain’t my goyl. HE’s the leada of da Manhattan newsies.” Shannon looked shocked when she heard that. Mostly because it was a great relief to know that Spot didn’t have a girl. She didn’t know why, but it was. He didn’t have a girl, did he?

For the most part of the morning Spot wove them in and out of streets and alleyways till they arrived on the Brooklyn Bridge. The time was perfect. He had her now where she couldn’t get away. There was only two directions she could go, and either way he could stop her before she got off of the bridge. They were about halfway across when Spot decided it was time to say something about his almost kissing her the other day, twice.

“Scot?” Shannon turned her head toward him and shot him a glare that was unmistakable. She hated the name. It was obvious, but Spot loved calling her that. “I wanna talk ta you about what happened, or what almost happened da other day.”

Shannon was still looking over at him and her glare hadn’t changed. Spot almost cringed under her glare. He had noticed that when she was mad, she didn’t yell, but her looks were deadly. “Aboot which part? The part where ye almost kissed me because it felt right? Or the part where ye almost kissed me ‘cause I called ye on the first time? Which is it, mon? ‘Cause I’ll let you know that both time ye played with me mind, and I don’t like that too much.” Her tone was even as if there was no anger behind it, but her looks. . .if looks could kill, Spot would have just been six feet shorter and covered with dirt.

“‘Bout all of it. Ya see I don’t know why I did what I did, either time. Sure I’ll admit dat holdin’ ya like dat was part of it, but I have no reason for da second time. I think dat part of it was because I was mad at myself for da first time.” He looked out over the river. It was rare, and close to never, that some one could make Spot Conlon back down from something, but Shannon sure could make him want to run and hide when it came to her glares.

Shannon didn’t say anything while he looked away. She was too busy wrestling with the thought of forgiving him. Sure he seemed sorry, but could that be another lie just like the headlines he called out? She opened her mouth to say she forgave him when he turned around with a different look in his eyes. One that she hadn’t see before.

“Have ya ever loved somebody so much dat it hurts ya dat ya can’t be wid ‘em all da time, or help ‘em when dey need it?” What was he saying? Shannon nodded. She knew what it was like in several different cases. “Well, da other day I was reminded of how it feels, an’ I guess dat was part of my reason for doing what I did.” Shannon knitted her thin eyebrows together, trying to figure out what he was talking about. She didn’t have to ask. He went on on his own. “I went ta see my Ma that day, an’ after t’ree years a treatment, she’s still as bad as she was when I put ‘er in dat place. She didn’t even know who I was. She thought I was someone who knew me, but she didn’t think I was me. All she could talk about was ‘er lil’ boy an’ her husband.” Shannon still didn’t understand what he was telling her had to do with anything. Spot looked at her and saw that she was lost and confused. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is dat. . .dat I tried ta kiss ya because I wanted ta feel some sort something, an’ have dat person feel it back.” Spot looked away again, but this time it was to sell a paper to someone that was passing.

Shannon had been about to forgive him because she just wanted to let the whole thing drop, but now she was going to forgive him because he was sincere about being sorry. “Spot, it’s all right. I understand. Just next time try no’ tae take it oout on me. We can talk aboot it, but don’t do a repeat of the other day. Okay?” Spot nodded. Shannon smiled as she watched his ice blue eyes sparkle as he smiled back at her. They just looked at each other for a minute before Shannon broke the silence and the stare. She only did this because she could feel that same attraction she had when he had caught her. “Sae, why are we going over the bridge?”

“Ta see Jacky. I promised ya dat we’d go an’ meet ‘im. Plus I wanna see if ‘e’s had any luck findin’ dat Sean guy. Who is he anyway?”

Shannon was a little confused by some of what he had just said. He’d promised her? When had he done that? “Sean’s my brother. We lost ‘im when we came tae America twelve years ago. I have tae find ‘im. I promised I would.” Promise. He said he had promised to bring her to me this ‘Jacky’ person. But why? And when? “Ye said ye promised tae bring me ovah tae meet this Jacky guy. When?”

Great! Now Spot had to explain that he had been in talking to her when she had been sick. She only knew he had stopped in that one day when she had finally awakened, but now he would have to tell her that he was there everyday that she had been unconscious. “Well, while ya were sick. . .I, uh. . .came ta talk ta ya, an’ I told ya dat I was gonna take ya ta meet Jack. You’re gonna love ‘im. All da goyls do.”

Shannon shrugged. “I’ll love him if he can help me find Sean.” Her answer to his statement was matter of fact, but Spot understood why she was so determined. He had been the same way when he found out his grandmother had moved back to New York. He just hadn’t realized that she was living under the same roof as he was for quite a while. That was the last time Jack was mentioned till they arrived at Tibby’s.

Spot opened the door to the small restaurant to find it was packed with near frozen newsies. “Heya, fellas!” Spot called over the noise.

“Spot!” It was a collective call from all in the room. Shannon looked around in shock. She hadn’t thought about just how many of them there would actually be. She was shocked to see that there were close to thirty boys, and a few girls in the small restaurant. Not to mention other customers.

Shannon looked as a young man that was rather tall compared to her short height of five foot five inches came walking up to them. He had thick brown hair and hazel eyes that shone with something that couldn’t be described as being happy. It went beyond that. He had a red bandanna around his neck and a cowboy hat around his neck. He walked up to Spot and spit in his hand. She watched as Spot did the same thing and they shook hands. “How ya doin’, Spot?”

“Pretty good, Jack.” Jack nodded and turned to look over his newsies for a second before he turned back to Spot. That was when he noticed Shannon standing behind Spot. She almost looked afraid. “Who’s dis lovely creature?” Jack asked as he moved to the side and took Shannon’s hand in his. He bent down and kissed it.

“Shannon,” she said in a whisper. Spot watched this exchange and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle slightly. “And I take it yer Jack?”

Jack smiled. “Da one an’ only Jack Kelly.” Jack turned around and looked through the room to see David and Sarah talking at their table. He turned back to Shannon. “An’ dat goyl back dere is me goyl Sarah.” Jack was nearly beaming when he said her name. With that said, Spot’s ire cooled back to normal. Jack then turned to Spot. “So, Spot, is dis the latest girl a the day?”

Spot glared at Jack. “No. Dis is da one I’ve had ya lookin’ for dat guy named Sean MacLain. It’s ‘er brother. Ya had any luck?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t heard or seen anything.” He then looked into Shannon’s eyes, and familiarity struck him. It wasn’t as if the color of her eyes had a personal note to them, but the color was familiar to him. “Sorry, Shannon, but we’s can keep lookin’.” Jack sounded truly sorry.

“Thank ye. I need the help.” That was the first time Jack had noticed her Scottish accent. Sure Spot had mentioned it, but he hadn’t noticed it. He could see why Spot was so hypnotized by her, even if he wouldn’t admit he was. Spot led her over to the table that Jack, David, Sarah, Les and Crutchy were sharing. Shannon ordered only a glass of water, but Spot made her order more and said he would cover the bill. Shannon opened her mouth to protest, but Spot gave her a look that said to not even think about it.

Jack put his arm around Sarah and looked over at Shannon. “So, Shannon, can ya tell us what Sean looks like, so we can know what ta look for?”

Shannon took a deep breath. “Well, I can tell ye what her looked like when he was little. I havena seen him since he was five, but I can remember him as if it were yesterday. He’s got dark brown hair, like mine. The same color eyes as mine. He’s got a long face, and a broad smile.” She looked over at Spot and he nodded, letting her know that she was doing just fine. “That’s all I can remember.”

Jack smiled. She had done pretty good with the last time she saw him being twelve years ago. “Okay. Well, we’ll keep an eye out for ‘im, an’ if we find anythin’ we’ll let ya know.” Shannon nodded.

“Thank ye.” She sat there and watched everybody talking, joking and cutting up. She couldn’t help but notice Spot the most out of everyone. He was a different person when he was around his friends. He was open and funny. He joked and talked to everyone as if they were family. The more she watched him, the more she couldn’t get their near kiss out of her head. She found herself wondering what it would be like to actually kiss him. She quietly ate her lunch as she watched the newsies, and she only spoke when one of them would ask her a question. The person to usually do that was Sarah. Shannon thought she seemed nice enough.

After they had eaten, Spot looked at Shannon and smiled. “Ya ready ta get back ta Brooklyn?” She really didn’t want to get back, but she nodded anyway. “Good, ‘cause I’m suppose ta have ya back right after lunch.” Shannon stood and started to follow Spot out of Tibby’s. He held open the door for her, and as she started to walk through it, a young man was standing next to Spot. Shannon smiled at him and made eye contact. In that brief instant, that felt like an eternity, she saw a reflection of herself in his eyes.

Snoddy stared into the amber colored eyes of the lovely young woman that was leaving with Spot. They mirrored his own with their deep color and gold flecks around the center. He smiled to her as she walked passed. She was out on the street and they continued to stare as he entered Tibby’s. There was something vaguely familiar about that girl, but he couldn’t place what it was.

Shannon turned back to Spot as they started to walk away. She was in a daze for the longest time, and didn’t say a word till they had been walking for several minutes. When she finally did, her voice still sounded like she was in a daze.

“Spot, who was that back at Tibby’s?”

Spot looked at her puzzled for a moment before he remembered Snoddy. “Dat’s Snoddy. Why?”

Shannon looked over at Spot and shrugged. “I felt as if I ken him from somewhere before.” She fell silent again for several long minutes. Then, “What is his real name?”

Spot scratched his head as he tried to remember if he had ever heard it. “I, uh, don’t know. Ya see a newsie don’t have to tell his name or past if he don’t want to, an’ most of us don’t, so we actually know very lil’ about each other before we became newsies.”

Shannon nodded, but didn’t fully understand. How can they be so close and know so little about each other? Shannon figured she’d find all of that out in time. But for the moment, she was content in know that she would be getting help from the newsies in finding Sean. She and Spot were silent the rest of the way back to the Lodging House.

*****

It had been a month since Shannon had been found by Flickers, and all the signs of her being ill were gone. She was back to her normal self, which everyone described as being peppy. She always had a smile on her face and a laugh playing on the edge of her voice. She was loving being a newsie, and she and Spot had grown closer in the last month. They still weren’t best friends, but they didn’t fight as much. Although, every now and then Spot would say something that would get her Scottish temper flared up and they would have a fight. Which usually consisted of Spot yelling at her, and she tried to talk as calmly as possible, but on the rare occasion she would yell back. Today just happened to be one of those rare moments when she yelled back.

She had been having a bad day because she had made it to the hall of records and found that the city had no record of Sean MacLain since he was ten. After that, all records had stopped. She had been spending most of her day trying to convince herself that he wasn’t dead, and that she wouldn’t give up hope. So Spot coming in and telling her that she was going to the Valentine dance at Medda’s was ridiculous. It wouldn’t have bothered her if he’d ask if she wanted to go, but thrusting a dress in her hand and telling, TELLING, her she was going was the last thing she could handle that day.

“Ye donna understand me, Spot! I’m not goin’ tae no dance with ye, or anybody else. Ye ken?” She looked at Spot as if he’d lost his mind, and Spot was looking at her the exact same way.

“Why not?! Scot, ya’ve been moody all day, an’ dis dance will cheer ya up. Medda’s parties always cheer people up. Dery’re the best. Now you’re goin’, an’ your gonna wear dat dress of Sarah’s. Now go get changed!” Spot started to walk off, but stopped when he felt the dress smack him in the back of the head. He whirled around in time to see Shannon shut the door to her room. He looked from the door to the dress to Sadie, who was sitting in the hallway. “She’s got a temper on ‘er, girl.” Spot actually sounded amused for a moment, but all amusement fled from his voice and his face when he opened the door to Shannon’s room.

“Don’t ye knock?! Are ye daft, mon? I coulda been indecent!”

Spot looked as if he didn’t care. “Ya t’rew yer dress at me! Ya don’t throw things.” He sounded like a mother scolding a child. “Now, Sarah gave ya dis dress. Ya don’t hafta wear it. Ya don’t hafta come to the party, but I think it’d be good for ya. Besides I’d---I’d like ya ta come. But do what eva ya want.” Spot closed the door. Shannon didn’t know how to react to that. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t sounded mad. But he had actually sounded hurt. Had it bothered him that she didn’t want to go to the party? She shook her head. Of course it didn’t. Why would it? She was just Shannon. His selling partner, on occasion. Shannon set the dress aside and sat down on her bed. She listened as the boys all filed out of the Lodging House. The she heard Spot and Mrs. Branson talking in the kitchen.

“Is Shannon going tonight?”

“Naw. She says she don’t wanna go. I tried ta tell ‘er ta come anyway, but she don’t wanna, so I can’t make ‘er. Believe me I tried.”

“Don’t worry about Shannon, Spot. Let ‘er do her own thing. She’s had a rough day. She had another set back in her search for Sean.” Shannon listened, but didn’t hear anything for a while. Then she heard Mrs. Branson speak again. “Now, go on. You’ll be late for the party, an’ you don’t want to keep all those girls waiting.”

She heard Spot laugh and then he said, “Okay. I’ll see ya later, Nana.”

Shannon looked at the door puzzled. Nana? Was that how Spot and Mrs. Branson were related? It would explain the exact same eyes and nose. Shannon smiled to herself as she pictured the tough and more than stubborn Spot Conlon saying ‘Nana’.

It wasn’t long after Spot left that Mrs. Branson knocked on Shannon’s door. “Come in.” She looked as Mrs. Branson and Sadie entered. Sadie jumped up on the bed and Shannon hugged her dog. “What are ye doin’, lass?”

“I was about to take her for her evening walk, but I was wondering if you had changed your mind about going to the party. If you had, I could walk with you as far as the bridge, and then it isn’t too far to Medda’s.” Shannon smiled. She knew where Medda’s was. She had gone there once before with Spot and some of the other guys.

Shannon shrugged. “I’m no’ real sure I wanna go oout tonight. But thank ye fer the offer. And I can take Sadie for her walk.” Mrs. Branson shook her head.

“I insist I take her for her walk. You’ve had a long day. Besides, what a better way to unwind from such a hard day than to go out with your friends?”

Shannon smiled. “How aboot this? I’ll go tae the party if ye tell me Spot’s real name.”

Mrs. Branson feigned shock. “Why my dear, that’s blackmail!” She placed her hand over her heart. Shannon smiled and nodded.

“Tell me, or I willna go tae the party.”

Mrs. Branson sighed. “Fine. His real name is Luke Conlon.” She smiled when she saw Shannon’s face light up a little. “If he ever find out I told you, he’ll kill me.”

“He wouldn’t ever hurt his ‘Nana’.” Mrs. Branson really was shocked this time. No one had ever voiced that they knew their relationship.

“How did you. . . .”

“I over heard ye two talking tonight.” Shannon’s grin was a wicked one. “Now, will ye help me get ready?” Mrs. Branson helped Shannon put on the deep red satin dress that had fancy lace work on the sleeves and bodice. She helped her do her hair up in a simple cornet with curly tendrils hanging down her back. A half an hour later, Shannon was ready to go to the party.

“You look lovely, dear.”

“Thank ye, Mrs. Branson.” Shannon hugged hery.

“You’re welcome, and call me Alice.”

“Alice.” Shannon smiled. They walked to the start of the bridge. The sun was just starting to set, and the sky was lovely. Bright pinks, reds, and oranges lit up the evening sky. Shannon sighed as she saw the perfect sunset for Valentine’s Day. She smiled as she started across the bridge. She felt bad for her fight with Spot earlier, and she knew going to the party would make it better. How could he be mad at her when he got his way?

Twenty minutes later Shannon was entering Irving Hall. She could hear everybody talking and laughing. She stood a good ways back in the entryway and watched the festivities till she found Spot. He was sitting at a table with Jack, Sarah and David. He had a glass of cola in his hand. He was watching a group of newsies dance and from what Shannon could see they weren’t very good at it. She took a deep breath and entered the hall. She didn’t know why, but she was extremely nervous. She made her way through the crowd of newsies and those who weren’t newsies. She stopped in front of Spot’s table and took another deep breath.

“I changed my mind.” Spot looked up when he heard the familiar voice.

“Shannon?” He was shocked that she showed up, and then when he looked her up and down, he was shocked by her appearance. She was stunning. Her dark brown hair was piled on her head in neat curls with small curls framing her face. The dress fit her perfectly. He had never considered that she and Sarah were the same size, but they apparently were. The deep red brought out the highlights in her hair and the gold fleck in her eyes. Spot looked in her eyes as he stood up and smiled. It had been the first time he had actually been able to look in her eyes and feel no pang of guilt or pain. He realized how lovely they really were. He found himself reaching for her hand and pulling her a little closer to where they were only a few inches apart. Spot leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He was shocked by his doing that. It was needless to say that Shannon was shocked too. “Ya look great.” His voice was soft. At his compliment, Shannon’s breath caught in her throat.

The music changed to a slow song. Spot still had a hold of her hand and led her onto the dance floor. He pulled her close again and they began to slowly dance. Shannon was finding it hard to breathe. Being that close to Spot was reeking havoc on her senses. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if he could hear it. She looked up at him and her breath caught in her throat again as she saw that his blue eyes were soft and inviting. Why was he looking at her like that?

Spot was watching Shannon as she smiled up at him. What was he doing? This was his friend, but yet he couldn’t help the way he felt as he held her. He didn’t want the song to end. They twirled and spun to the soft music. With every step she was drawn a little closer, and with every inch closing in, Spot had an overwhelming urge to kiss her. The song finally ended, and Spot leaned down to kiss her. Shannon closed her eyes and waited for the kiss. Just as Spot’s lips brushed hers, she got an overpowering sense of fear and broke from his arms. She didn’t say a word, but left the party as fast as she could. Spot slowly opened his eyes and watched her leave the hall. He puckered his lips and kissed the air with a defeated look on his face. What was it with them? They could never actually go through with the kiss they both wanted. They did both want it right? Or was it just him. He walked out of the back of the hall. He had some thinking to do.

*****

Shannon ran the whole way to the Brooklyn Bridge. She leaned against the railing of the bridge to catch her breath. She looked out over the dark river and closed her eyes. She was trying her hardest to calm herself. What had she done? She had gone to the party to make her friend happy, and she ended up nearly kissing him. That wouldn’t have been so bad, except the thought of kissing Spot and finding out how she truly felt about him scared her to death. Sure she would admit that she had feelings for Spot. Who wouldn’t? He was good-looking. He was kind--- when he wanted to be. He had put up with a lot of stuff from her, but she had felt too much when he had been holding her during that dance. Just as she had felt to much when he held her after she fell from the counter a month ago. When he had held her, the whole world seemed to freeze, except them, and she felt as if she never wanted it to change. Realizing that fact had scared her beyond all of her senses, but when his lips had just started to brush hers, it was something that she wasn’t sure she could handle. She opened her eyes and looked out over the dark river. She decided at that moment to not talk to Spot about what had just happened because doing that would mean she would have to admit everything she just admitted to herself, and she wasn’t sure she could, or wanted to, do that. She sighed heavily as she pushed herself off of the railing. She knew it wasn’t safe to walk back alone at night, but she wasn’t going back to the party. A greater danger was there. If she went back, she would have to face Spot, and at that particular moment it was worse than the worry of being attacked.

*****

Spot quietly shut the front door to the Lodging House. He didn’t want to wake Mrs. Branson. He didn’t doubt that she was up, and probably worried about him and why he didn’t come home with the others, but he would explain why in the morning. He wasn’t in the mood for it right then. Instead, the main thing on his mind was talking to Shannon. That little Scot had played with his head and surprisingly his heart at the dance, and ever since she showed, and he was tired of it. He was going to set things straight with her.

He opened the door and noticed that she was lying in bed sound asleep. He stepped just inside the door and watched her for a brief minute. She was so angelic when she slept. She didn’t look capable of reeking havoc on somebody’s heart and mind. She really was a great girl. She had a power or a way of hypnotizing him and making him forget everything from his past. Well, maybe not forget, but she could make it seem better and easier to deal with. There was something about her that made him want to change. Change what? He couldn’t figure that out, but he knew that with her help he could.

“Scot, I need ta talk ta ya, an’ for da first time since I met ya I know dis isn’t somethin’ I can talk to ya about when your asleep.” Spot shook his head and left the room.

The door softly clicked and Shannon opened her eyes. She looked over at the door. “Aye, I need tae talk tae ye too, but I canna do it. Sorry, Spot.” She closed her eyes and searched for the sleep that had been alluding her all night.

*****

Shannon rolled out of bed as soon as she had heard Mrs. Branson open her bedroom door. That meant that it was about an hour before she would wake up the others. It was perfect. That gave her time to get dressed and out the door before Spot was even up. She wasn’t going to sell in Brooklyn for a while. She couldn’t. She had to avoid Spot as much as possible. She had decided during her sleepless night that she would sell in Manhattan. Spot even said himself that he didn’t get over to Manhattan often, so why would he go over there today? It would be perfect. She would take Sadie along with her, so she would have some protection, and she would be able to return late that night. The later the better. The later meant the less chance she had of running into Spot. Shannon really didn’t want to talk about why she had run out like she had because that meant that she would have to admit what she had felt, and had been feeling, where he was concerned. And that was the last thing she wanted to do. She hadn’t ever felt like that before, and it scared her to death. Besides, falling in love was not the reason she came to America in the first place. Finding Sean was. Falling in love? Had she really thought that? Shannon shook her head as she slipped into her skirt and blouse.

Shannon entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Branson feeding Sadie. “Top o’ the mornin’ tae ye, Alice.” Shannon was trying her hardest to sound cheery, but she wasn’t so sure she did.

“Good morning to ya too, Shannon. You’re up awful early.” Shannon shrugged as she sat at the table.

“I couldna sleep. I’m aboot ta leave ta go get me papes.” Mrs. Branson nodded.

“Your leaving kind of early, aren’t you?”

Shannon shrugged. “I dona know. What’s the point a stayin’ around if I’m already ready?” Mrs. Branson nodded again. She was beginning to wonder if something happened last night because everyone said how Shannon had left the party early and so had Spot, but they had left separate and in different directions. Had they gotten in another fight? “I’m also gonna take Sadie with me taday. There’s no need fer her tae be under foot all day long. She needs the exercise anyway.” Mrs. Branson nodded. She watched as Shannon grabbed a few rolls from the pan on the table and stood up. She shoved most of the rolls in the pocket of her coat. “I’ll be back later, Alice.” Shannon took a bite of the roll and left the room with Sadie right behind her.

*****

Spot paced the front room of the Lodging House as he waited for Shannon to come out of her room. This wasn’t like her. She was normally right on time if not early. He really needed to talk to her about what happened last night at the party. He had to find out what was going on between them. He looked at the clock above the counter and saw that it was six in the morning and he nearly went ballistic. The thing he hated most was being late for anything, but being late for the morning edition was something that was not done. If you only got to sell the afternoon edition, then you were basically in debt because that was barely enough to cover a night’s stay at the Lodging House let alone buy papers the next morning. He sighed and walked to Shannon’s door. He pounded as hard as he could without breaking it.

“Shannon?! Scot?!” There was no answer, but he heard Mrs. Branson’s door open.

“She’s already gone, Luke.”

Spot looked at his grandmother a little confused. “Gone? Ya sure?” Mrs. Branson nodded. “When’d she leave?”

Mrs. Branson scratched her head. “A little before five. She took Sadie with her.” Spot looked puzzled, but didn’t ask anymore questions. He quickly ran out of the Lodging House. He had ten minutes to get to the distribution alley and buy his papers, or he was going to be broke for a while. He reached the alley just before they started to shut the gates. He bought his papers and began looking for Shannon as he called out the headlines.

*****

“I’ll have twenty papers.” Shannon laid her money on the counter and took the papers from Weasel. She counted them and noticed that there was two missing. She looked back at Weasel and Morris and glared. “I paid for twenty, an’ ye shorted me two. I expect tae get what I paid fer. Either ye can give me the extra two, or I’ll come in an’ get them. Ye have a choice.” Shannon glared at the two men. A moment later two papers were handed to her.

David, Jack and Snoddy watched this from the base of the platform. “Too bad she didn’t help ya your first day, Dave.” Jack teased.

“I know,” David muttered. They were all in amazement. Not many girls could or would stand up to Morris and Weasel like that. But they had all figured that Shannon was different if she could have Spot hypnotized the way she did. Jack walked up to Shannon as she walked down the platform.

“Heya, Shannon. What ya doin’ on dis side of the bridge?”

Shannon shrugged as she looked up at Jack. “I got a lil’ tired of selling in Brooklyn. I need a change o’ scenery.” Jack nodded, but he noticed that by the end of her explanation she was staring pretty hard at Snoddy.

“Dat’s Snoddy. I don’t think ya’ve met ‘im.” Shannon shook her head. “Snoddy!” Jack called and Snoddy came walking over. “Snoddy, dis is Shannon. She’s from Brooklyn.”

Snoddy held out his hand just as he recognized her as the girl at Tibby’s that had reminded him of someone. “It’s nice ta meet ya, Shannon.”

“Same here, Snoddy.” Her soft brogue wasn’t that strong with that simple statement, but Snoddy caught it.

“I, uh, don’t ‘ave anybody ta sell wid taday. Would ya like ta sell wid me?” Shannon smiled and nodded. Her amber eyes sparked and Snoddy was once again hit with the same bolt of familiarity.

“I’d love tae, but only if Sadie can came with me.” Shannon turned and pointed to her dog that was laying on the ground by Jack.

“Sure. I love dogs.” Shannon smiled and they left the distribution center together. Jack watched them and shook his head.

“Be carful, Snoddy. I ‘ave a feelin’ your messin’ wid Spot’s goyl, even though neither knows it,” Jack said softly as he watched them retreat with Sadie running after them as she barked the whole way.

*****

“Has any of ya seen Shannon?” Spot asked as he saw a bunch of his newsies gathered around the distribution alley right after lunch.

Flickers was the first on to speak. “No. We figured she was wid you. She ain’t?”

Spot sighed out of frustration. “Would I be askin’ if ya’ve seen ‘er if she was wid me? T’ink about it for a minute, Flickers.” Spot ran his fingers through his hair, which was a definite sign of frustration. Flickers shook his head. “T’anks anyway.” Spot walked off. It was really bothering him that he didn’t know where Shannon was. For all he knew she could be lying in a gutter somewhere sick and dying, or she could be hurt, alone and bleeding. Spot shook his head. What was he doing? He was going to drive himself crazy if he kept thinking like that. But it was all he could think about. He hated not knowing where Shannon was.

*****

“Stop! Och, that hurt!” Shannon squealed as she was pelted with one snowball after another. She finally laid her papers down and began to make a snowball. She looked over at Snoddy and gave him an evil grin. “Yer in fer it now, lad.” She threw the snowball and it made perfect contact with his chest.

“You’re gonna pay fer that.” Snoddy said as he ran at her. Shannon turned and ran. She could run fast, but Snoddy was faster. He grabbed her by the waist and began to tickle her. They both fell to the ground in hysterical laughter. After a minute, they both turned and looked at each other. They were both washed over by the same sense of familiarity as they had felt before. It was something about their eyes.

Shannon slowly stopped laughing as she tried to catch her breath. “Thank ye. I needed that. I needed tae laugh.”

Snoddy smiled. He had thought that Shannon was beautiful when he had first seen her that day at Tibby’s, but now she was still beautiful, but he felt as if she were only a sister to him and she could never be anything more. Oddly enough, this was fine with him and it set better with him than when he had had a mild crush on her. “Glad ta help. Why did ya need it?” He slowly stood up and helped her up. They picked up their papers from the sidewalk.

“I jus’ havna laughed in a long time. It felt really good tae laugh. Thank ye.”

“Yer welcome.” Shannon’s head snapped over when she thought she heard a slight Scottish brogue. She shook her head and dismissed the thought. There was no way he could be Scottish. He had too strong of a New York accent.

They continued the rest of the day talking and having fun. Every now and then, Sadie would take off down the road with out warning, and they would have to go chase her, but for the most part, it was a calm and relaxing day.

Shannon snuck back into the Lodging House late that night. She made sure that Spot’s light was off before she entered. “Thank ya fer walkin’ me home, Snoddy. I’ll see ye soon.” She half whispered half yelled to Snoddy. He waved and watched her enter. He shook his head. Shannon was a great girl, but after talking to her all day, he wondered if she realized that Spot thinks so too. He knew she knew she had feelings for him, but he wondered if Spot had the same. It was obvious to him that they deserved each other because every time she said Spot’s name her eyes got a certain sparkle in them. He smiled to himself as he walked back to Manhattan.

*****

Two weeks had gone by and Shannon had been avoiding Spot as much as possible. If she saw him enter a room, she would leave it from the other direction if it were possible. If it wasn’t, she would walk right past him and ignore him grabbing at her arm. She refused to talk to him because she knew what he would want to talk about, and she didn’t want to have to admit what she was feeling to anybody but herself.

Shannon stood in the distribution alley and waited for some of the others to get their papers. Spot walked down off the platform and saw Shannon standing at the gate. “Scot!” Shannon turned and looked at him. She rolled her eyes and started to walk off. Spot stepped right in front of her and grabbed her arm. “I t’ink we need ta talk.”

Shannon looked at him in indifference, but inside her heart was pounding. What was she going to do? She had no where to run, and he was going to make her talk to him. “I don’t see why we have tae talk. There’s nothing tae talk aboot, Spot. Now, let go of me arm.” Spot shook his head. He wasn’t going to let go till he talked to her. Over the past two weeks what he had wanted to talk to her about had escalated from being about a simple kiss that she ran from to being why she was avoiding him. What was she scared of?

“I ain’t lettin’ go till ya talk ta me.” His voice was the one that every smart newsie feared when they heard it.

Shannon was beginning to find it hard to breath. She was actually going to have to admit everything to him if he forced her to talk to him. She frantically let her eyes dart all over the alley, and she found her salvation when Flickers walked into the alley. “Flickers?” He turned to look at her. “Do ye have anyone tae sell with this mornin’?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

Shannon pulled her arm out of Spot’s hold. “Good. Yer selling with me.” She grabbed Flickers by the hand and led him out of the alley.

“But I ain’t got any papes yet.” Shannon looked down at his empty hands. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“Ye can have half o’ mine.” She handed him ten papers. Sure it wasn’t much, but it was something. Flickers took them, but he was still confused as to why she had wanted to sell with him so desperately.

*****

Spot watched the two walk off. Actually it looked as if Shannon was nearly dragging Flickers off against his will. Why was she so scared to talk to him? He would have to find out when he knew he could corner her and she couldn’t escape. He got his chance that night.

Spot was walking down the pier when he saw someone taking off their shirt a few docks down. He watched in amazement as he realized that it was a girl. The closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn’t just any girl, but Shannon. He watched as she took off her boots and then her skirts. She stood in the late February moon in her chemise and corset, and nothing else. Spot began to walk faster as he realized this was the perfect opportunity to talk to her. She was almost naked, so she wouldn’t go running through the streets. She would have to stay and listen to him as long is it would take her to put her clothes back on. That wouldn’t take her too long, but Spot could be a fast talker when he needed to be.

He watched as she put her hands over her head. Was she going to dive into the water? Was she insane? The water was freezing! Spot had fallen in the cold water one too many times to know it wasn’t warm until late April, at the earliest. He quickened his pace and reached her just as she started to jump. He reached out and grabbed her waist. Without a word, they both went tumbling into the freezing water. A moment later they both came up spitting and sputtering. Shannon looked at who her attacker was and was shocked to see Spot treading water only a foot from her.

“Have ye gone daft, mon? Ye could have killed us both!”

“Me?! I was tryin’ ta stop ya from ended up in ‘ere. Dis water is freezin’, and it can kill ya in a minute. I’ve seen it ‘appen.”

Shannon shook her head as she swam over to the ladder. “And I swim in water this cold in the summer in the loch behind me house. I’m use tae it.” She started to climb the ladder, but as she did she started mumbling under her breath.

“What did ya jus’ say?” Spot was only a few inches from her, but he couldn’t understand her.

“I was jus’ saying that ye have turned me life upside down. First ye try tae kiss me. Then ye take it back. Then ye try ta kiss me again. Then it take it back. And yet again ye try tae kiss me, but then I run away. An’ now yer tryin’ tae kill me. Ye make no’ one bit o’ sense tae me, Spot Conlon.”

Spot grabbed her arm and lowered her back into the water. “What if I didn’t take it back?”

“Huh?”

“What if I didn’t. . .aw forget it.” Spot got frustrated with the entire situation, and quickly realized that if he told her what he was thinking, she may run again. That was one thing he didn’t want. He kept his one hand on Shannon’s arm while he placed the other on the ladder and used it to pull himself closer. He had her trapped between his body and the ladder. There was no way she could run now. He softly lowered his face to hers and captured her lips with this.

Shannon placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him off. This wasn’t something she wanted. She had to run. She had to stop this. If she didn’t, she would reveal everything she was feeling in one kiss, and she didn’t want to do that. Spot noticed her struggling to push him off, so he leaned closer, and deepened the kiss. He knew she was feeling something with the kiss, and he wanted her to realize it. He was tired of playing this game, and he was going to end it. Shannon slowly stopped fighting and began to let herself feel what the kiss was doing to her. It was making her feel warm inside. She hadn’t ever felt like that before. She let out a soft sigh as she wrapped her arms around Spot’s neck and finally kissed him back. Spot kissed her for a minute longer, but when he finally broke away, they were both breathless.

“I don’t take that back,” he said as he tried to catch his breath.

Shannon wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, so she just shook her head. Spot leaned in again and kissed her. This time it was much shorter, but still filled with passion and longing. After he pulled away this time, Shannon found her voice. “I don’t think I want ye tae take it back.” Spot smiled as he looked into he deep amber eyes.

“Great. Now, can we get outta dis water? I can’t feel me feet anymore.” Shannon nodded and turned to climb the ladder.

By the time Spot was on the pier again, Shannon had already put her shirt on and her skirts. She was just putting her boots on when Spot took her hand and made her stand up again. “Why did ya run the otha night?”

Shannon looked away and knelt back down to tie her boots. “I was scared. I’d never felt what I feel when I’m with ye, an’ I don’t know if I want it to end. I was scared if ye kissed me, if might end. I don’t want it tae end.”

Spot shook his head and pulled her close. He encircled his arms around her waist. “I knew dat ya were meant ta be right ‘ere when I held ya in my arms. A kiss won’t an’ didn’t change dat.” He kissed her again, but stopped when they both shivered. “Let’s get back ta the Lodgin’ House. Mrs. Branson will give us some hot cocoa.”

“I hear ‘Nana’ is good at that.” Shannon said slyly as she walked away from Spot.

“How’d ya know. . . .” Spot trailed off as he started after Shannon.

“Let’s just say I have my ways.” She said and took off running because Spot mumbled something about making her talk as he stretched out his hands toward her.

*****

“What did you two do to get so wet?” Mrs. Branson was definitely shocked to see Spot and Shannon run in the Lodging House soaking wet.

“She pulled me in da East River!” Spot said as he gave Shannon a mock glare.

“I did no’! You were the one that grabbed me, Spot.” Mrs. Branson was looking back and forth between the two very wet and what appeared to be a very angry kids. “Whatever he tells you, don’t believe him, ‘Nana’.” Mrs. Branson looked at Shannon in shock.

“How do ya know dat?” Spot asked again.

“Shannon, you swore you wouldn’t tell!” Mrs. Branson scolded.

“Nana! You told ‘er?” Spot looked over at Mrs. Branson.

“She made me.” Spot shook his head and walked over the few steps to Shannon. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Mrs. Branson was a little more shocked to see this. “What’s all this? If you two don’t stop shocking me, I’m going to have a heart attack.” She clutched her heart and leaned against the counter.

“We’ll tell you everything, but on’y if ya fix us some hot cocoa.” Spot bribed.

“Done.” Mrs. Branson led the way into the kitchen. She set about fixing the hot cocoa while Spot and Shannon told what happened at the dance and how they ended up in the river. When they had finished, Mrs. Branson scolded them both for getting wet in the dead of winter, and she ushered them off to take showers so they could get warm.

*****

Shannon pulled her robe a little tighter around her as she walked up the stairs. Something was bothering her and she had to talk to Spot right then, or she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, and five o’clock came way too fast if you were asleep or not. She quietly walked up the stairs and passed the bunk room. She looked at the door to Spot’s room and sighed. She hadn’t been in there since she had been brought in out of the cold a month ago. She quietly opened the door and was surprised to find Spot not only awake, but up and sitting on the window sill of his room.

“Spot?” Spot turned his head from looking out over the dark city to Shannon. It was two in the morning and she still looked as pretty as she had when they had been in the river. The only difference was that she was now dry. Spot got down out of the window sill and walked over to her. When he reached her he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Ta be able ta do dat is great,” he said in a whisper. Shannon couldn’t help smiling, despite what was on her mind. “It’s in the middle of da night. What’s wrong?”

“I couldna sleep.” She looked down at her hands and then back up at his clear blue eyes. “There’s---I mean---was that kiss in the river real? I mean did ye really mean it, or was it jus’ someway fer ye tae make me be quiet and listen tae what ye had tae say.” Spot took her hand and led her over to the bed. He slowly sat her down and smiled.

“Oh, Scot, I’m sorry. I didn’t know ya thought dat.” He gently rubbed on of his thumbs along her cheek. “I meant it. I meant every bit of it. And it was a way for me ta shut ya up, but it was also ‘cause I wanted ta. All right?”

Shannon nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. “I was worried ye didna mean it, and ye were gonna take it back in the mornin’.” Spot shook his head and took his hand to lift her head up so he could kiss her. He gently kissed her lips and waited for her to wrap her arms around his neck before he deepened it. Shannon did just as he wanted and he slowly deepened the kiss. When he pulled away a moment later they were both smiling at each other. “Thank ye.”

Spot looked at her puzzled. “For what?”

“Falling in the water with me, and for finally lettin’ me be able tae sleep. Thank ye.” She kissed him quickly and left the room. She now had a chance to get a few hours sleep before she had to get up to sell.

Spot smiled as he watched her walk out of the room.

*****

Everything had been going good for Spot and Shannon. Their relationship had been incident free, well minus the occasional fights that Shannon usually won. She was the only one that could beat Spot in a fight, and most of that was because she never yelled. The only time there was a real problem was when Shannon’s current way of finding her brother Sean came up as a dead end. She would usually get depressed for a day or two, but then she would be right back at it again. This day just happened to be one of her depressed days because the orphanage that he had been placed in said he ran away at the age of eleven, and they hadn’t seen or heard word of him since. If a boy was arrested and sent to the Refuge, after he was released, he was sent to an orphanage. Shannon sat in the kitchen of the Lodging House peeling potatoes for that night’s dinner and talking to Mrs. Branson.

“I dona understand, Alice. How can a city lose track o’ one small boy?” Alice looked up from the potato she was peeling and smiled.

“It’s easy, dear, when the city has millions in it. It’s easy for one small boy to slip through the cracks. Luke did. I only found him by accident. They had no record of him after his mother was placed in the asylum. I only found him because I bought this Lodging House from the city in hopes that one of the boys might know of him. I didn’t have to search long because the first boy I saw was Luke.” Shannon smiled and nodded. She just loved the relationship the toughest and most respected newsie in all of New York had with his ‘Nana’. It was sweet. It showed he wasn’t all street smarts. It showed he had a big heart. A big heart she was quickly falling in love with.

Shannon peeled for a few more minutes before something Alice had said triggered in Shannon’s mind. Mother? Spot’s mother is still alive? She had to find out. “Alice?”

“Hmmm?” Mrs. Branson looked up from her next potato.

“Ye said the city lost track o’ Spot after his mother was put in the asylum. Is his mother still alive?”

Mrs. Branson nodded and a sad expression crossed her face. “Aye. She is.” Shannon looked a little puzzled when she heard the slight Scottish brogue. “Spot put her in there after she started talking to her dead husband, Spot’s father. She did nothing except talk to Kevin as if he were still there. By the time Spot placed her in the asylum, she was thinking he was Kevin. The poor boy was only thirteen at the time, and he had to put his mother away.” Shannon couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was his mother the one he had been talking about when he said that she hadn’t gotten any better and that she thought he was his father?

“I had no idea. Why didna he say anythin’ tae me?”

“Shannon you have to understand that with Spot it’s hard to talk about his past. It took him the longest time to open up to me. First he had to grow to trust me. That took a lot of time.”

Shannon nodded. She knew he trusted her. Didn’t he? She would give him time before she said anything about it. Shannon got a wicked smile on her face. “Tell me about his family. . .about your family.”

Mrs. Branson started to say something when Spot walked into the kitchen. “Dere ain’t much ta tell, Scot. Our family is jus’ a bunch a deserters. Right, Nana?” Spot had gotten use to the fact that Shannon knew Mrs. Branson was his grandmother, so he now called her Nana when the three of them were alone. It didn’t bother him at all.

“Now, Luke, you know that isn’t all true. She had her reason’s for leaving. One was she was in love with that awful Liam Mclane.”

“That still didn’t give her the right to leave you and Ma. I mean she jus’ left an’ ya never heard from ‘er again. What if she’s dead?” Spot was obviously angered by the topic, and Shannon was wondering why he was so angry. But the thing she had noticed more than Spot’s anger was the man they had mentioned. . .Liam Mclane.

“Who was Liam Mclane?” Shannon’s voice was small.

Spot looked at Shannon. His eyes were as cold as ice. “He’s da scab dat run off wid my aunt. She left Nana an’ Ma ta fend fer themselves. She went back to Scotland wid dat man.”

Shannon nodded and when she looked up, her eyes were sad and they appeared to even have a touch of tears in them. “Liam MacLain was my father.” Mrs. Branson and Spot looked at her in shock. “What was your aunt’s name?”

“Elizabeth. They called ‘er. . . .”

“Lizzy.” Spot and Mrs. Branson looked even more shocked.

“How did you know that?” Mrs. Branson asked quietly.

“That was my mother’s name. Elizabeth MacLain. My father called her Lizzy.” Spot was looking at Shannon as if she had some sort of disease. Shannon paid him no attention and kept talking. “He left us after we got back to Scotland. Losing Sean was the end of their marriage. He left us and they were divorced a year later. Divorce never happens, but he filed anyway. He wasn’t there for us. He didn’t help me care for my mother when she got sick.” She sounded millions of miles away. “He. . . .”

Spot interrupted her as realization hit. “Oh, good God, you’re my cousin!” He looked at Shannon in horror and disgust. “Oh, Gawd! I kissed my cousin! I. . . .” He stopped and looked from Shannon to Mrs. Branson. Mrs. Branson was finding it hard not to smile. Spot glared at his grandmother. One of the few moments that he ever showed anger toward her. “Nana! Dis ain’t funny!” He glared at Shannon one more time before he stormed out of the Lodging House. Shannon couldn’t help jumping when she heard the door slam. She slowly turned to Mrs. Branson with a confused look on her face.

“What just happened, Alice?”

Mrs. Branson shook her head. “Luke thinks you two are cousins.” Shannon covered her mouth in shock. Had he really thought that? Shannon just thought it was coincidence that they had family with the same name. She had known several Liam’s in Scotland. It was just a coincidence, wasn’t it?

“I never thought that. . .do you think it’s true?”

Mrs. Branson smiled and placed a hand on Shannon’s. “I don’t know dear. But if it is, I will still love you the same as I do now. You are like the granddaughter I never had.” Shannon smiled and slowly stood up from the table. She mumbled something about getting a shower and waiting for Spot to get home so she could talk to him.

*****

Shannon sat in the window in Spot’s room and waited for him to come home. She didn’t care if she didn’t get any sleep. She was going to wait up for him till he came home. The notion of them being cousins was so far fetched it was ridiculous. They looked nothing alike. What was he thinking? She had to make him see that they weren’t related, and fast because she had seen what he was like once his mind was set. She fiddled with the thin necklace that she wore around her neck. She picked up the heart-shaped locket and opened it. She looked at the picture of her mother and smiled. It was one that was taken of her when she had been young. Before she had gotten married and before she had had two children. She looked so happy because she hadn’t lost a child yet, and she hadn’t been abandoned by the husband who was suppose to love her for the rest of her life.

"Oh, Mama, what am I suppose tae do? I still havena found Sean. I’ve fallen in love wid dis great guy who now thinks we’re cousins. I ken we no’ related, but he won’t listen tae me. What would ye do?" She closed the locket and ran her fingers down the gold as she let it fall out of her hand. As her fingers ran along what should have been smooth gold she noticed something rough on the back of it. She picked the locket back up and turned it around. There engraved on the back in fancy, small but fancy, letters was "To thy own self be true". "Shakespeare," Shannon said softly. She laid her head against the cool window pane and closed her eyes. "That’s what I’m goin’ tae do. I’m goin’ tae be true tae meself." She said softly as she drifted off to sleep.

*****

Spot walked into his room and stopped short when he saw Shannon asleep in the window. She was in her nightdress and robe. Her head was leaned against the window and she held the small locket she always wore around her neck. She was absolutely beautiful when she slept. Spot smiled as he watched her, but then he realized what he was doing and silently scolded himself. ‘Why are ya thinkin’ dat, Spot? She’s your cousin.’ Spot laid down his cane as he swore to himself. "Damn it!" He wasn’t looking forward to waking her up and having to talk to her because he knew what he had to do. He had to end their relationship. He just had to. It wasn’t right for him to drag her along when he couldn’t feel anything for his cousin. It was just wrong. Not to mention sick! The only bad part was the he loved her.

He walked over to the window and gently shook her shoulder. She slowly and sleepily opened her eyes. She smiled slightly as she focused on Spot. Spot’s look was no where near as friendly. “Mornin’, Cuz.” Shannon quickly remembered what was going on and jumped down out of the window.

“Cuz?! I’ve been tryin’ tae tell ye we’re no’ related.”

“Ya haven’t been tryin’ ta tell me nothin’,” he snapped.

“Well, I would have been, but ye left afore I could say anythin’.” Her tone was as harsh as his, but she didn’t mean it to be. She was just being harsh so he would listen to her. “Spot, if ye think aboot it, it’s very possible we aren’t kin.” Spot crossed his arms and looked at her. “Fer one thing, my mother’s parents were dead by the time she met me father. The second is that it could be just coincidence that my parents have the same name as yer aunt an’ uncle.”

Spot shook his head. “You’re right, but it ain’t dat likely. Until ya can prove otherwise, we’re cousins.” Shannon sighed. It hurt beyond belief to hear him say that. Spot took a deep breath and walked across the room. “An’ I’ve been thinkin’ Shannon. I don’t think we should be tagether if we’re cousins. It ain’t right. It’s actually gross.” He turned to look at her and realized it was a huge mistake. Her amber eyes were swimming in tears a she shook her head.

“What---are ye---sayin’, Spot?” She choked out as her first tear fell.

“I’m sayin’ dat I don’t want ya ta be me goyl no more. It ain’t right. Family shouldn’t feel da way I do about ya.”

Shannon walked over to him. She stood only inches from him. She couldn’t stop her tears. She had just realized she loved him and now he was breaking up with her over a mere coincidence. “Have ye---ever thought---that the way ye feel aboot me is proof enough that we’re no’. . . .” She couldn’t finish what she was saying. It was plain that he hadn’t. It was also plain that he didn’t regret what he was saying or doing. His eyes were so cold they were almost clear as he regarded her. “I guess ye havena then.” She nodded and wiped her face. “I guess the on’y thing tae say is good bye. I’ll be out in the mornin’. Ye won’t have tae worry aboot me after that.” She leaned forward and stood on her tiptoes and gave him a gentle kiss. She broke away just as Spot had started to reach his hand for her face. She started to walk out of the room, but stopped at the door. “I’m glad ye let me love ye, Luke Conlon.” She turned and shut the door behind her.

The door closed and Spot let all of the emotions he had been feeling out. He picked up his cane and threw it across the room. It hit the window and the glass shattered at the exact moment he felt his heart rip into a million pieces. He had found the woman he loved and he had let her go. Part of him wanted to run down the stairs and take her in his arms. Swearing the entire time that he would never let her go, ever again, if she would only have him back, but the bigger part of him---his pride---was keeping him from doing that. Instead he did something that he hadn’t done in ages. He cried. Not just a tear or two, but he actually cried. He felt worse than when he had found out that Dana had drowned. Her loss had been hard, but he had slowly gotten over it. But losing Shannon because he was stubborn was something entirely different. He couldn’t handle that. This was something that was his fault. Spot buried his face in his pillow and cursed the choice he had just made.

*****

Shannon looked up at the Brooklyn Lodging House and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was leaving the only place she knew in America. She swallowed hard as she felt her tears well up. How could Spot not listen to her, to his heart? How could he not know they weren’t related? Shannon had thought for a short time that they were actually meant to be together. She guessed she was wrong. She shook her head as her thoughts made a tear run down her cheek. She wasn’t going to cry anymore. She had literally bawled while she packed her few articles of clothing. She looked down at Sadie and smiled, but her smile was none too convincing. Sadie wined at her and nudged her hand.

“Och, now, lass. Ye ken it wouldn’t last long. Spot isn’t the type tae stick tae someone fer very long. We both ken that.” Trying to convince the dog that what they were doing was right didn’t help her any. She started crying again as she walked away from the Lodging House and toward Manhattan.

*****

“What did you do?!” Spot woke up to his door slamming and Mrs. Branson yelling at him. He sat up and looked at her with complete confusion on his face.

“What’d I---what?” He rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair out of his face.

“What did you say to Shannon to make the poor girl leave?”

“Leave?” Spot was hoping that last night had been a horrible nightmare, but it hit him with a sudden force that it wasn’t. “Oh, God!” He sounded as if he had been hit in the stomach. “I broke up wid ‘er. She’s my cousin for Christ’s sake!” He was actually yelling at his grandmother. Something he never did.

“You don’t know that. I have a good feeling she’s not. She looks nothing like Lizzy or Liam. Did you ever think about that?” Spot shook his head. He knew he had made a mistake, and there was no changing that. They looked at each other for a minute or two before Mrs. Branson gave her grandson an order. “You have to find her, Luke, and you have to get her back. If you don’t, you’ll never see her again.” Spot shook his head.

“I can’t, Nana. She’s gone. I know Shannon, an’ ya don’t get a second chance wid ‘er. Why should I find her. To confirm that I’ve lost ‘er?”

Mrs. Branson dropped a piece of paper on the bed as she left the room. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, Luke.” The door shut and Spot laid back down for a minute. His hand rested on the piece of paper. He picked it up and read it aloud. “Alice, thank you for letting me stay here for this short time. I know he doesn’t want to hear it, but I thank Spot too. He showed me that it is possible to love. I will always remember that, and hopefully knowing what it feels like to love and to be loved, I will be able to find it again with someone else in the distant future. Right now, I have to find Sean. It was Spot that showed me that I need to find my real family. Love, Shannon.”

Spot crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room.

*****

Shannon walked the streets of Manhattan looking at the different shops and buildings. She had no idea where she would go or what she would do. She knew she needed to find a job, but where. She could always go work in a factory, but she wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted to do. Would they give her time to look for Sean? She doubted it, but she wouldn’t rule them out. She would only look for a job in a factory as a last resort.

It was still fairly early in the morning, so nothing was open. She rounded a corner and noticed she was on Duane Street. It didn’t mean anything to her because she had never been on that road before. She started to walk down the street and stopped in front of an old building. She looked at the sign and read ‘Newsboys Lodging House’. She shook her head.

“Well, I’m no’ gonna stay there. They know Spot.” She kept walking and about a half a mile down the road from the Lodging House there was a building that appeared slightly fancier than all the others. She looked up at the sign and it read ‘Knighting Hall’. It must be a Vaudville hall like the one Medda owns, she reasoned with herself. She knew how to play the piano. She could try for a job there. She walked up tot he door and was surprised it was open. She stepped inside and found it to be a house inside. Not a fancy one, but not a rundown one either. She watched as a man and a woman came down the stairs together. The woman was scantily dressed and the man was pulling his suspenders up. It dawned on Shannon right then that this wasn’t a Vaudeville house, but a burlesque house, to put it nicely. She started to leave, but she wasn’t quick enough. The woman who had just gotten rid of her last customer came walking up to her.

“What are ya doin’ here, missy?”

Shannon was so taken by surprise she didn’t know how to answer. “I, uh, well, I, uh,” she stammered, but she quickly found her words. “I thought this was a Vaudeville hall. I’m sorry. I was just lookin’ fer a job. I willna bother ye again.” She turned to leave, but the woman, who was in her mid twenties, grabbed her shoulder.

“Why would ya leave? We can give ya a job.”

Shannon became completely enraged. “What?! ‘Ave ye gone daft, woman? I no’ goin’ ta be a two bit whore!”

The woman was appalled by the comment and let go of Shannon. “I wasn’t meanin’ that. Ya don’t look like the type anyway. If you were interested in a job, we need someone ta cook, clean an’ entertain the men before they get the real entertainment they came for. Can ya do that?”

Shannon didn’t answer for awhile because she was embarrassed that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion and that she had insulted this lady. She mulled over the things that the lady had said and finally she was ready to say something. “What kind of entertaining will I be doin’?”

The lady smiled at the implied meaning behind the question. “Well, you’ll. . . come in to the parlor with me.” Shannon followed her into the parlor and sat on one of the old and beat up chairs. “You won’t entertain them the way that me and the other girls do. You’ll play the piano,” she pointed to the piano, “and sing or whatever else they ask you to do within reason. And you can refuse to do anything they ask.” Shannon was nodding as she listened. It didn’t sound too bad. “You can stay here. We have a room that isn’t used. It can be yours. It’s nothing fancy. Just a room with a bed, just like all the others. We’ll pay you fifty cents a day.”

Shannon nodded. “I’ll take the job.” The woman smiled and Shannon realized she didn’t know her name. “I’m Shannon MacLain.”

“Oh dear. I totally forgot. I’ve been up all night. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m Megan Callahan.” They shook hands. “I’ll show you to your room. The hall is closed in the morning and early afternoon. We open up around five. This gives us a chance to rest and run what ever errands we have.” Shannon nodded and followed Megan up to her room.

They entered the room and Shannon asked something she hadn’t thought of. “I left my dog outside. Can she stay in here too?”

“What kind of dog?”

“A bull dog. She’s real well behaved.”

Megan smiled. “Sure. We could use a guard dog. Go down and get her.” Shannon nodded, and a few minutes later, Shannon and a happy Sadie came walking up the stairs. Megan met Sadie and said she would tell the other girls about her, so they wouldn’t freak out. Megan left Shannon to get settled in. It only took Shannon a minute to unpack her bag. She laid down on the less than comfortable mattress and tried to go to sleep. She hadn’t slept since the night before. It didn’t take long for sleep to overcome her.

*****