Brooklyn Baby | Spot Conlon ¹

Chp. 10: After Everything

"Kenny," I hear.

"Ya gonna ask me about my name too?" I ask, without turning around.

"Well, I ain't gonna lie and say I ain't curious," He says. "But if you don't wanna tell me,"

"It's Kendall." I say, looking at the river. "Kendall Sullivan,"

"I figured. You hid ya name to hide from Snyda', right?"

"Right. He got Jack, and it's a matter of time until he comes after me, too."

"But you were never in the Refuge,"

"No, I wasn't."

"Then why does he want you?" He asks.

"I dunno. He just hates us, I guess,"

"He can't do that,"

"Unfortunately, he can,"

"I won't let him,"

I look at Spot. He's looking at the river, still standing behind where I was sitting.

​"What's your name, Spot?"

He comes over to sit down next to me. His feet dangled over the edge of the dock we were on. It was a different one, abandoned.

"It's quite a story," He says with a chuckle. "But it's Thomas,"

Thomas Conlon, huh?

"Thomas?" I asked. "How do you get Spot outta that?"

"When I was younger, I was always sick. I always had somethin'. When I was seven, maybe, I had the chicken pox. This older newsie in our group named Sam started to call me Spots. I really looked up to Sam. Soon enough, everyone called me Spots. Another newsie was called Tommy too, so we got mixed up often." He started.

"Tommy, I like it."

He chuckled. "Then, when I was about ten, I found a little boy. The newsies immediately took him in. His name was Chuck, and he was five years old. I guess the little guy didn't hear Sam right, because he always called me 'Spot.' I never had the heart to correct him, because he was so excited to call me by a nickname. This kid looked up to me. Since I found him in an alleyway, he always followed me around afta' that. He helped me sell some papes when I needed a front. Not that I did very often, but sometimes I did. I was only ten,"

I laughed at his prideful words. Spot would never admit that he needed help.

"Anyways, when I was twelve, Chucky was about to turn seven. He woulda' been an official newsie afta' he turned seven. He still called me 'Spot.' Everyone else just let him, and Chucky felt like me and him had a special relationship. Ya know, since he had his own name for me. Well, just before he turned seven, he..died." Spot said, his face hard.

"He died? How?"

"Chucky was just..in the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess. He was shot, right in the side. He was comin' back from training with Sam. Afta' that, we never saw him again. We all assume he's just dead."

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"So, in honor of Brooklyn's youngest newsie, everyone called me Spot." He finished.

"That is quite a story," I said.

"Yeah, it is."

"Do you know where ya parents are?" I asked him suddenly.

"Do any of us really know?" He asked, looking at his feet, that were almost touching the water.

"I guess not. Me mudda's dead, and me dad's a criminal."

"I'm sorry ta hear that," He said. "I have no idea where me parents are,"

"I guess that's what all us newsies got in common,"

"That, and we's poor as hell,"

"Got that right," I chuckle.

"We should probably check the progress on ya brudda," He says.

"Probably,"

"Let's go to Brooklyn and I'll tell Fetch ta check it out,"

"Alright,"

~

"Spot, I got news," Fetch was breathing heavily, indicating he was sprinting here.

"Well?"

"Jack refused to leave the Refuge. He got out with David...and....didn't leave," Fetch collapsed in fatigue. I looked at Spot, who shared the same look.

"Thanks, Fetch."

We ran to Manhattan to see the other newsies and find out what this is about.


When we got there, the newsies were all the town square, shouting out protests. I walked over to them, and Race saw me.

"Ken, where were ya last night?"

"Brooklyn, where's Jack?"

"Hey, hey, hey, break it up." Spot said to some newsies. They stopped and moved aside. I see Spot looking at something, and he calls me and Race over.

"Tell me I'm seein' things, just--tell me I'm seein' things," He says. I follow his gaze to a scabber.

Wait, that ain't no scabber. That's...Jack.

"You ain't seein' things, that's Jack!" I say angrily.

"What's he doin'?" Race asks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spot gripping his cane.

"Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya? It's me, Mush. Come on, it's me, Mush! What are ya' doin' Jack?" Mush tries. Jack just looks at us, and Weasel is standing next to him.

"Come on, what is this?" Boots says.

"Where'd ya get them clothes, Jack?" Race sneers.

"Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself," Weasel says smugly. He's really enjoying this. "A special gift to a new employee,"

"He sold us out!" Spot yells angrily. I grip his arm tightly, trying to hold him back.

"I'll give ya a new suit me-self, ya bum!" Race yells. "I'll soak ya!"

"Hey, hey, let me get my hands dirty!" Spot growls, pulling out of my grip. He lunges onto the two Bulls, yelling, "Come 'ere, ya dirty rotten scabba'!"

I stand there, glaring at Jack, who avoids my look.

"Aw, you two wanna talk to him?" Weasel taunts. "Come on, go ahead,"

The Bulls let me and David through, and we walk over to him. I can't believe Jack right now. After everything, he sold us out. He traded us for Pulitzer.

"This is why you didn't escape last night?" I ask, squinting my eyes. "You lied to us, you lied about everything. You lied to ya friends, you lied to ya sista."

"You lied about your parents, they ain't out west. You didn't even tell me your real name," David adds.

"Whatcha' gonna do about it, Davey? Gonna cry about it, Kenny?" Jack sneers. I can't even believe my ears.

"It's like I don't even know you," I mutter.

"Lemme spell it out for ya, Ken. I gotta look out for myself. I can't have ya to deal with, too." Then, he turns to David. "I ain't got anyone tuckin' me in at night."

"You had the newsies," I said.

"What's the newsies get me? A dime a day and a black eye? I can't afford to be a kid no more, Davey. I got money in my pockets. Real money." Jack says. "Money, you understand? I got more on the way, and as soon as I collect, I'm gone. I'm gone, alright?"

"Well that's good!" I say. "We don't need you!"

"All those words you said, they weren't yours. They were ours," David says, gesturing to himself and me.

"And ya neva' had the guts to put them across, did ya?" Jack taunts.

"We do now," David says.

"What's tha matta'?" Jack says with a smirk. David starts to walk away angrily, but I squint my eyes at Jack.

"I jus' got one more thing to say,"

"Then say it," Weasel says smirking. I bring my arm back and get Jack in the jaw. I then turn on my heel and walk back to the newsies. I look back to see Jack looking fazed, surprised even.

Weasel takes Jack away, and the newsies keep shouting angrily.

"Traitor!" Spot yells. His cane is now in his hand, ready to hit someone.

"I trusted you!" Boots screamed.

"Seize the day, huh, Jack?" Race adds.

"He's foolin' 'em, he's a spy or somethin'," Les suggests, desperate to save Jack. I just put my hand on his shoulder, and give him a weak smile. Spot pats his back once, and then looks back at Jack. I put my hand on his arm, but he still looks angry. How could he not be angry? We convinced him this strike would be worth it, and in the end, Jack played him.

"Come on, Les, we're goin' home." David says. I hug Davey before he leaves. I ruffle Les's hair, and watch them walk off. Spot puts his cane back in its loop, and looks at me.

"Guess I'm done here, then," He says. I grab his arm, and he looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

"You's just gonna leave? After all this?"

"It's over, doll face."

"You's givin' up. Never woulda' took you for a quitta'," I say. He pulls his arm out of my grip.

"Ya brudda sold us out. I have no reason ta be here anymore,"

"No reason? Not anything?" I ask him with a pleading look. For some reason, I hoped he'd stay for me, but I knew that wouldn't happen. He just looked at me for a second, before turning the other way. I watched him walk away, his newsies following him intently.

"Fine," I mumbled.

"Don't worry about him, Ken. We don't need Brooklyn anyways," Race said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. I nodded, and watched Brooklyn walk off into the distance. Eventually, I couldn't see them anymore.

Spot had left us, he had given up. I guess without Jack, there isn't a strike. I guess I just thought that Spot would stay. I guess I was just being stupid. I read too much into the situation, thinking Spot was here not just because of the strike, but because he...liked spending time with me.

After everything, I guess I was wrong.

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spot thinks hes so cool he can just leave kenny and be a dick