Selling a Story (Spot Conlon Fanfic)

Flower

Carly's POV

"So how did Wiz get his name? It's such an awful name. Like Snoddy back in Manhattan."

We both chuckle, thinking about all the dumb nicknames our friends have.

"He's been a newsie since he was little. When he was younger he kept... well he kept wetting the bed. The older kids just started calling him Wiz after that. But don't tease 'im about it or you'll get a black eye."

I start laughing at the dumb story. The poor little kid just couldn't hold his bladder.

"What about you CJ? How did you pick that name?"

I sigh and start giving the story. Although it's not much of a story.

"Well CJ because those are my initials. And I chose Wild as my last name because of this old children's book."

Spot smirks and leans back to get a little more comfortable on the window.

"Please, enlighten me."

"In the orphanage we had a bunch of books about this girl named Sally Wild. She traveled the world and went on adventures. She went to Brazil, Egypt, even the North Pole. She was fake but I idolized her. So I chose to take her last name as a way to keep my dream alive."

I chuckle when I realize how dumb this sounds out loud.

"I'm sorry. This is really dumb."

"You're right, it is dumb. But I'm glad you told me. I get to know the real Carly. Not just the infamous CJ Wild."

I roll my eyes at his title he used for me.

"I'se told ya Spot. No one calls me Carly."

"Well I find it a beautiful name." My cheeks turn bright red and I see Spot start to panic. "I meant, it suits you. It's a nice girls name."

I smirk at his now bright red cheeks as well. I can't believe the King of Brooklyn is getting flustered around me.

"You know, Spot, I like it when you say my name. Makes it sound better than when my parents would scream it at me."

"Then I better say it more often, Carly."

I snort at his use of my name.

"So what's your real name? You can't convince me your parents named you Spot. Are you a dog?"

"You don't get to know that. No one knows that."

I scoff at him and lean forward a little more but immediately lean back when I see his eyes drift down.

"Well why can't I know? I'm your friend right?"

"I don't like it. Just like you don't like yours."

I nod in understanding. Many newsies have little to no family. Just trying to live off of what they got.

"So did you actually, ya know, kill ya parents?"

Spot hesitated with asking but I don't blame him. Who wants to be friends with a supposed murderer?

"That is a long story."

"I got time."

He leans back on the wall and I start to tell the story. It's not interesting but very sad.

"Well my parents were always alcoholics. I was born addicted to nicotine and beer. My parents were lucky I wasn't disabled in any way."

He nods for me to keep going and I take a breath.

"They would spend all their time drinking and I would sit outside. The streets weren't nice to a little girl alone at night. I learned real quick what men can be like."

Spot reaches his hand to grasp mine in a comforting manner.

"That was my life until I was nine. We were always moving around New York. Finally we found this old place. My parents were fighting a lot... one day my dad was really drunk and fighting with my mom."

I take a shaky breath and Spot stops me from talking.

"You don't have to finish the story if you don't want to."

I pat the hand on top of my hand and keep talking. He should know what happened.

"I walked into the kitchen to see my mother being strangled by my father then going limp. He killed her. He saw me and started going after me. The only thing I could think of was to grab the knife from the drawer and stab him. That's what I did."

He take another breath to collect my thoughts.

"I stabbed him in the neck and immediately ran. The police found me a couple days later in Queens and took me to the refuge."

I look up to see Spot give my a sympathetic look. A shy smile spreads on my face. That's the first time I've actually told someone what happened. It feels good to get it off my chest. His hand disconnects from mine and he grabs the bars with his hands.

"I swear I will get you out of here sometime. I promise."

I sheepishly nod at him. Even though he's being dead serious. We've been talking for at least a couple hours. It's late into the night now. All of New York is asleep. My eyes start to close when Spot grabs my hand.

"Hey. You look exhausted. You go get some sleep. I'll be back, I promise."

I give him a sleepy nod as he starts to climb down from the window. I poke my head out to tell him one last thing.

"If you need to find me again, the hibiscus flowers grow right next to my window. Look for them."

I gesture to my left where there are big, pink flowers growing in the brick.

"Here." He climbs back up and picks a flower off the vine for me.

"Thank you."

He starts to climb back down and tips his hat.

"Just a beautiful flower for an even more beautiful lady."

My cheeks burn and a smile plays on my face as I watch Spot climb down the rope then run off. The King of Brooklyn just called me beautiful.