Ok, this is an old story. A very old story. I don't feel that this is in any way my best work (it's just too whimsical for my taste), but it's the only Newsies story that I've done with enough Spot content to put up here.
Beware of the Dog
Jack leaned over the side of the Brooklyn bridge, watching the seagulls wheel and dive beneath him, and took a deep drag on his cigarette. He hadn’t been to Brooklyn in a long time, but he decided to take a trip over there when he heard that the Brooklyn newsies had a new leader. He hadn’t caught the kid’s name, only that he was tough.
Jack inhaled again, feeling the warm smoke fill his lungs and leave a acrid taste in his mouth, before he flicked the cigarette butt over the bridge. Several seagulls dove at it. One snatched it up, but then quickly dropped it with a squawk as it burnt itself on the lit end. Jack laughed and headed over to Brooklyn.
“Hey, kid!” Jack called out to the first newsboy he saw. “I’m lookin’ fer da new newsie leader over here. D’y’know where he is?”
“Whadda ya want him fer?” the kid asked cautiously. He must have been a few years younger than Jack, and the big blue eyes and round face that regarded Jack from under the gray cap only enhanced his lost puppy-dog look.
“I just wanna meet him.” Jack smiled at the boy.
“What if I don’t wanna take ya to him?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
The kid shrugged. “Why should I?”
Jack was getting mad. All he wanted to do was find out who the new Brooklyn leader was, and this little puppy was just being rude! “Fine! I’ll find him on my own.” Jack turned and began to walk away. After a few paces, though, he turned around. The kid was following him.
“Hey, kid, will ya stop following me like a lost dog?” The boy’s blue eyes narrowed.
“Who says I’m followin’ ya?” He asked innocently. Jack began walking away for the second time. He tried not to look behind him, but he could just feel that boy following him, and it was irritating him. He started walking faster. A quick glance in the reflection on a store window confirmed his suspicions; the kid was still tailing him. He whirled around so fast that the boy, who had almost been running to keep up, wasn’t able to stop quickly enough and slammed right into Jack.
“Look, kid,” Jack shoved the boy away from him, “I told ya to stop following me like a puppy! Or maybe youse is a puppy-dog. What’s yer name? Fido? Spot? Is dat it: Spot?” The boy didn’t run off bawling as most young boys would have. Instead, he glared at Jack, his eyes like blue ice.
In one swift motion, he tossed his papers to the ground and launched himself at a startled Jack. “I ain’t no dog!” he hollered as he tackled Jack to the ground. They rolled around, punching and shouting.
“Fight! Fight!” Jack heard someone yell, and he could soon sense the press of bodies around him and his opponent as they cheered them on.
I didn’t think a small kid like him would be such a good fighter, he thought as a punch landed firmly on his jaw. Blocking another, he managed to knock the kid off him and stand up, for a second. The boy grabbed Jack’s ankle firmly and pulled as hard as he could. Arms windmilling, Jack fell to the ground.
“Do youse give?” The boy stood over him, one foot planted firmly on his chest, like the photos of hunters with their catches, just taunting him, daring him to pull the same trick he had done to Jack.
Jack didn’t answer right away; the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and his ears were ringing like the circulation bell. “Yeah, I give,” he managed to gasp. The boy removed his foot. Holding his head, Jack stood up. It was only then that he saw how the other boys gathered behind the kid, and how they all kept a respectful distance from him.
“Yer him, aren’t ya?” Jack asked the boy. “Yer da new leader of da Brooklyn newsies.”
“Dat I am.” The kid agreed. He grinned. “Youse sure picked da wrong person ta mess wid here!” He spit in his palm and held it out to Jack.
“Youse got dat right.” Jack spit in his own palm and shook the boy’s firmly. “Dey outta put a sign on da bridge dat says ‘Beware of the dog’” Jack laughed, continuing the earlier insult he had given. He half expected the kid to tackle him again, but to his surprise, the boy laughed too.
“Maybe dey should,” he told Jack. “Who are youse anyway?”
“I’m Jack. Jack Kelly. I lead da newsies over in Manhattan, and you are...?” The boy flashed his half smile.
