8 Days, 8 Letters; A Spot Conlon Fanfic

The Swed, the Scot, and the Italian

A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry this is extremely late, but I am back from my break. I'm gonna post on Friday's or Saturday's from now on. I hope you're all doing well and if not I hope you get better soon! This chapter is a mix of a bunch of flashbacks. This is more so a glimpse into the core parts of Jaime, Race, and Crutchy's friendship. Anyways here's the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters. Enjoy!

Flashback: September 1892

Jaime's POV

"Spot," I called. "Mac. Figure. Anyone."

I wasn't scared, but I was lost. I still didn't know my way around Brooklyn very well and I lost the rest of the brookies, so I was completely on my own. It was cold, dark, rainy, and foggy. It was rare to find an empty street in New York and I was hoping I didn't wander off into Queens or Bronx territory. I walked around trying to find someone. I was so cold and I was completely soaked.

After walking around a little while, I found a few boys going at it. A few of them looked to be around Mac and Figure's age, but the other two looked to be around my age. The older boys had dark hair and a bit of a build. They looked like they were some of the factory workers. They were fighting this kid. He was about my height and had some old beat up clothes, dark, slicked back hair, and a cigar in his pocket that looked almost used up. The other kid on the other hand was a bit taller and scrawnier. He had light brown hair that was tossed in messy curls, newer looking clothes that had some dirt on it, probably from the ground. He was using his crutch to try and get back up.

"Hey," I shouted. "Leave 'em alone."

"And what are you's gonna do if we's don't," one of them said.

"What do you's think," I spat.

One of the boys stepped forward, but the other one pulled him back.

"Ah. Forget it," he said. "We's fight dem, we's got the entire borough of Brooklyn after us. Just cheese it."

The walked away and I went to help up the other boys. I grabbed the cigar boy first and we helped the other boy with his crutch.

"You's alright," I asked.

"Yeah," the cigar boy said.

The other one nodded

"Thanks," the one with the crutch said.

"Of course," I said. "I'm Books by the way."

"Anthony," the cigar boy said. "Anthony Higgins. I noticed he had a prominent Italian accent.

"Charles Morris," the one with the crutch said. I also noticed that he had a slight Scottish accent.

"Hey by chance are you guys Italian and Scottish," I asked.

"I'm Italian," Anthony said.

"And I'm Scottish," Charles answered. They looked like I was going to soak them up for it.

"Hey. That's fine. I'm Swedish," I said. "Do you guys speak Italian or Gaelic?"

"Yeah," they said simultaneously.

"Do you speak Swedish," they asked

"Ja. Jag talar flytande svenska," I said. (Yes. I am fluent in Swedish)

They smiled.

"What are you doin' out here so late at night," a voice said.

We turned to look and I realized that it was Kid Blink and Mush.

"Lost," I said.

Anthony and Charles looked confused as to how I knew these two.

"Oh. Charles, Anthony, this is Kid Blink and Mush Myers's, leaders of the Harlem and Battery newsies," I said. "Blink and Mush, this is Charles Morris and Anthony Higgins, I saved them from a soak'n."