"Hey, Spot, ya see dat ad 'bout dat goyl?" one of Spot's newsies asked.

"Yeah, I did, Duke," Spot said.

"Dat's a lot a money. I wish I’se could find dat goyl fer him," Duke said.

"Yeah," Spot said as a smirk grew on his face. His mind began churning of a perfect idea.

"Whatta ya gonna do, Spot?" Duke asked. Spot ignored the question and walked off toward Manhattan. He had a plan, a devious plan.

Spot walked quickly to Manhattan and didn't even stop at the bridge. Everyone stopped at the bridge, either to yell over the side or to think. Spot usually did too, but today he didn't. He had something more important to take care of.

When he got to Manhattan, he lurked between shadows and alleyways. He couldn't risk any of the newsies seeing him. Spot stood outside the World building, almost contemplating whether to go in or not. Then he walked up the steps. He opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark for a second, then his eyes adjusted to the artificial lighting. He saw an office boy talking with another man. Both were dressed in fancy, three-piece suits. The office boy had brown hair and a mustache. The other man had white hair and had a somewhat robust appearance. Spot walked over to them, taking off his hat as he walked. The office boy noticed Spot walking over to them.

"Yes, boy, what can I do for you?" the office boy asked, basically looking down on him.

"I wanna tawk wit' Pluitzah, ‘bout da ad he put in da pape dis afternoon," Spot said with his thick Brooklyn accent.

"I'm sorry, but Mister Pulitzer doesn't see people like you," the office boy said disdainfully and began to turn away.

"I know where his daughtah is dough," Spot protested, trying to keep his attention.

The office boy looked at the other man, Seitz. "I'll tell Mister Pulitzer that someone knows where Miss Angela is. Excuse me," he said. The office boy left and went to tell Pulitzer.

"Why don't you sit over there, son. My name's Mr. Seitz. If you need anything, just ask." Spot nodded and went to sit where Seitz had pointed. Seitz went down the hall and into another room.

On the streets of Manhattan, Crutchy had seen Spot go into the World building. Of course, he'd seen the advertisement, too, but he couldn't think of a reason why Spot would willingly go into the World building. He went to find Jack.

"Hey, Jack! Jack!" Crutchy called as he saw Jack down the street. Jack was with David and Les, leaning up against a building.

"Hey ya, Crutchy," Jack said as Crutchy hobbled over to him. Crutchy's leg had been broken and it had never healed quite right. The newsies had called him Crutchy as a form of ridicule. It stuck. "What's up?"

"Spot's here," Crutchy said.

"Really? Where?" Jack asked, looking around for Spot.

"Wit' Pulitzah," Cructhy said.

Jack looked at Crutchy. "What?" he asked, quite surprised and a bit angry as well.

"I saw him go inta da World buildin'. Da only reason I can think of is dat he saw dat ad 'bout Angela. I know she don't wanna be found eidda," Crutchy explained. He remembered Harley from her last visit. And he knew her secret.

"Why dat no-good... lyin'... stinkin'... jerk!" Jack stuttered angrily. He got a hold of himself and continued. "Thanks, Cructhy. Let's go find Harley an’ Specs."

Cructhy and Jack left to find Harley and Specs. David and Les looked for them, too, but they went in a different direction. After quite a while of searching, Jack and Cructhy found them by Central Park. They'd stopped by a tree to talk and take a short break.

"Harley! Hey, Harley!" Jack yelled.

Harley and Specs looked over at Jack. "What's up, Jack?" Harley asked with a smile on her face.

"It's Spot-" Jack started.

Harley's eyes narrowed. "I don't ever wanna hear 'bout dat boy no more," she interrupted and started to walk off.

"Harley, wait." Jack grabbed her arm. "He's here, in Manhattan. But he's seein' Pulitzah, 'bout you."

"Huh?" Specs said. Jack and Harley ignored him.

"What?!" Harley exclaimed.

"He's gonna tell Pulitzer 'bout ya," Jack said seriously. "Again."

Harley became instantly furious. "Why that... I'll kill 'im," she growled angrily, her teetch clenched. She and Jack started back towards the square.

"Wait a minute. What's goin' on?" Specs called after them, trying to catch up.

At the World building, Spot was being shown to Pulitzer's office. As he walked in, he looked around the office. He was in complete and total awe of the expensive items decorating the walls and tables. He’d never seen anything so grand.

"I've been told that you know where my daughter is," Pulitzer began.

"Yes, sir, I do," Spot answered.

"How can I be sure you actually know? You could just after the reward," Pulitzer said skeptically.

"Frankly sir, I don't care 'bout no reward," Spot said.

This intrigued Pulitzer. "You don't care about the reward. You're a newsie. That reward would set you for life."

"Sir, I ain't sayin' dat I wouldn't like it, but I ain't afta no reward."

"How can I be sure?"

"I'll show 'er to ya foist."

Pulitzer nodded and called for his office boy. The office boy came in a few seconds later. "Jonathon, show Mister, Mister uh..."

"Spot Conlon, sir."

"Show Mister Spot Conlon to the door and go with him to find my daughter."

"Yes sir, Mister Pulitzer," Jonathon obeyed begrudgingly.

Jonathon showed Spot out of the office and then followed him out into the streets. Jack, Harley, and most of the Manhattan newsies were waiting for them in the square. Spot and Jonathon walked into the square, Spot stopped short when he saw Jack waiting there, in the center of the square.

"Hey ya, Spot. I hear you'se been tawkin' wit' Joe," Jack said disdainfully.

Spot just looked back at Jack. "Yeah, I was tawkin' wit' Joe. Whatta ya gonna do 'bout it, Jackey-boy?" Spot retorted.

"I'm gonna..." Jack started.

"Jack ain't gonna do nothin'. You betta be more worried 'bout what I'm gonna do to ya," Harley interrupted loudly and moved to the front of the crowd.

Jonathon looked at Harley and then at Spot. Spot looked at Jonathon out of the corner of his eye, then nodded discreetly. As if saying, "Yeah, dat's her."

"Whatta ya gonna do ‘bout it... Angela?" Spot asked. A few of the more recent newsies, including Specs, were confused. They all knew her as Harley, not Angela.

Harley became furious. "Why you little..." she said as she ran at Spot before anyone could hold her back. She knocked him over. "This is fer the first time," she said as she punched him in the stomach. "This is fer the second." She got ready to hit him again. "Hey, hey. Whatta ya doin'?" she asked furiously as Jack and Specs pulled her away from Spot. She struggled against them, but they held her firmly.

"It won't.. help.. anythin’.. Harley," Jack said as he was restraining her, a rather difficult task at the moment.

"I'll get ya fer dis, Spot!" Harley screamed as Jack handed her to Specs, Blink, and Race. She was still struggling and it took three of them to restrain her. She was incredibly strong, whether she were running on adrenaline or not.

Spot got up off the ground. "Ya can't touch me," he said, brushing himself off.

Harley got even more furious. She began to struggle even more. It took several more newsies to keep her from killing Spot. "Leggo, I'm gonna kill 'im," she screamed. She repeated it several more times.

By this time, Jonathon had gotten hold of several police officers. Almost the entire precinct was in the square. The police had surrounded the newsies. Jonathon had somehow managed to slip Spot the hundred dollars promised in the advertisement while the police were surrounding them.

Spot looked around and smirked. "Look around, Jack. Ya ain't gonna win dis," he said, very sure of himself.

"Maybe not taday, but ya betta watch yer step from here on out," Jack threatened.

Harley didn't see any way out of the pickle she was in. She had since stopped struggling. The police surrounded her, there was no way she could get out. Jack had something else in mind. He decided to make a diversion. He and several newsies were about to beat up the police, but Harley stopped them.

"Jack! Jack, wait!" Harley yelled. Jack stopped and turned around. Harley looked down at the ground; she'd lost all hope. "Don't bother anymore. It’s not worth it," she said and looked at Specs. "I'm sorry," she said sorrowfully and looking into his eyes. Then she walked over to Jonathon and let the police take her into custody. The police and Jonathon brought her into the World building.

In Pulitzer's office, Pulitzer was standing at the window. He had been looking down to the street and had been watching the events unravel. He turned to face them when Jonathon brought Harley in.

"Thank you, Jonathon," Pulitzer said as Jonathon stopped in front of Pulitzer's desk. He let go of Harley's arm.

"You're welcome, sir," Jonathon said quietly as he left the room.

After Jonathon had left, Pulitzer walked across the room and slapped Harley across the face. She was knocked off her feet. She had expected him to hit her, but not that hard. Her face stung like fire.

"I've told you time and again to obey me. Now, you will go to the carriage and ride home in it. You will NOT run away again. Do you hear me?" Pulitzer bellowed.

Harley looked up at her father. "Yes, sir," she said through clenched teeth.

Pulitzer lifted Harley off the ground. "You will stay at the house, in your room until I get home. Is that clear?" Harley just looked back at Pulitzer. Pulitzer called for Jonathon.

Jonathon entered the room a few seconds later. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"Take Angela home and make sure the servants lock the door to her room. Have Mister Seitz accompany her to my house. I don't want her getting away again."

"Yes, sir. Come along, Miss Angela," Jonathon said politely.

Pulitzer let go of Harley. She walked over to Jonathon, looking at her father nastily. They walked down to the lobby where they found Seitz. Jonathon explained the situation to him, and they continued out. Seitz had taken a firm hold of Harley's arm. He thought that she'd take the first chance she could to run away. They both knew it.

As the three of them walked out of the building, Harley saw the newsies standing around the statue. Specs looked particularly melancholy. He looked across the square, just in time to see Harley step into the carriage.

"Harley!" Specs yelled and ran up to the carriage. Harley just looked at him with sad, empty eyes. "I'll visit you," he said as he looked into her eyes.

"Specs, don't bother. It’s not worth it," she said sadly. She had lost all hope in her life.

"Harley?" Specs questioned, almost confused by her actions.

"G'bye, Specs, say g'bye ta Jack fer me," Harley said as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She touched his face with her fingers. She would miss him most of all.

Specs just nodded and held her hand to his face. Seitz took her arm and pulled her back into the carriage. Specs just watched her ride away in the carriage. Harley looked back at him sadly. She almost regretted giving herself up. Specs turned to leave.

"Specs!" Specs turned back around. "In my sack, there's a small brown bag; it’s yers!" Harley yelled while she hung out of the carriage, which was up the street by now. Seitz pulled her back inside, but she kept trying to see Specs again.

"I'll find it!" he yelled back. He would, too. He promised himself that.

The carriage had turned a corner and gone out of the lives of the newsies. Specs watched it go before turning back to the statue. Jack and the guys just looked at Specs with somber faces. They knew how much he liked her. It wasn't going to be easy for him. But when is it ever easy to get over someone like her? Specs started to walk across the square. He passed the statue and all the newsies. They all watched him walk slowly back to the Lodging House.

Specs walked up to the bunkroom, dragging his feet the whole way. He walked over to Harley's bunk. He knelt on the floor and pulled out Harley's sack from underneath the bunk. He set the sack on the bed and sat down next to it. He rummaged around for a few seconds until he found the small brown bag she had told him about.

He pulled it out of the sack and put it on the bed on the other side of him. Then he put the sack back under the bed and turned to the small bag next to him. He inhaled slowly and sighed. He untied the strings on the bag and dumped the contents into his lap. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as a mound of bills and a few coins fell out onto his lap.

"Oh my god!" Specs exclaimed. He instinctively set the bag down and picked up a handful of bills. He couldn't believe what he saw. He’d never seen so much money in all his life. "There must be ova a hundred dollas here," Specs said, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. In actuality, there was more than five hundred, some large bills, some small bills, and some coins.

Then he snapped out of his trance and stuffed the money back into the small bag. He tied up the bag and walked over to his own bunk. He put the bag into his pile of stuff. He had to hide it from the rest of the guys, but he thought better of it. He should distribute the money to all the guys. It wouldn't be right to be selfish. After all, Harley had given it to him. She wasn't selfish about it; she'd been generous and had given it to him.

Just then, Specs got an idea. He stuffed the small bag in with his stuff and ran out of the bunkroom. He sprinted down the stairs and out into the street. All the guys were still standing by the statue. None of them were in the mood to sell papers any more. Specs ran through the square towards the ritzier section of Manhattan. The others just watched him run through the square, they were a little confused. They all figured he'd be sulking for days. But here he was, running through the square at full tilt and in almost high spirits. They all left him alone. He'd need some time, they thought anyway.

In Pulitzer’s mansion, in the richer part of Manhattan:

"Go on, Miss Angela," Seitz said as he escorted Harley to her room, or, rather, cell.

"Seitz, why're ya doin' dis? You've always been kinda nice, I mean, fer workin' wit' Joe and all."

"Well, Miss Angela, that's one question I ask myself almost every day. Now, be a good little girl and go into your room."

Harley gave him an annoyed look, for him saying “be a good little girl.” She certainly wasn't little, and she definitely didn't intend to be a good girl. "Yes sir, Mista Seitz," she said. Then she walked into her room. Seitz closed and locked the door behind her. He didn't like the idea of Pulitzer locking up his own daughter.

"Maggie!" Seitz called one of the servants.

Maggie walked down the hall and up to Seitz. "Yes, sir?" she asked.

"Would you please make sure that she stays in her room until Mister Pulitzer comes home. She's a slippery one, so watch her carefully. Here's the key to her room and make sure the windows are locked," Seitz instructed as he handed her two keys. One key for the windows and one for the door.

"Yes, sir." Maggie nodded.

"Good day," Seitz said and walked down the hallway.

Little did Seitz know, but Maggie and Harley were friends, good friends. Her real name was Mrs. Lorena Magpie, but Harley called her Maggie, as did Seitz. After Seitz was out of sight, and out the door, she unlocked the door to Harley's room and went inside.

"Good day, Miss Angela, how're ya today?" Maggie asked brightly.

"Hi, Maggie. Not real great actually. Since Joe locked me up in here an’ all," Harley answered angrily.

"I'm sorry, Miss Angela," Maggie said as she walked across the room to the windows. She slipped the key into the lock and turned it, locking Harley in completely.

"Yeah," Harley said, "thanks."

"It's not right fer Mista Pulitzah ta lock ya up here. I have a good mind ta tell him so," Maggie said.

"Don't bother, Mags, it wouldn't do any good. He'd just fire ya, or hurt ya. I don't want that ta happen to ya."

Maggie nodded absently. "I'll bring ya some dinner if ya like," she said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, thank you, Maggie," Harley said, barely noticing she was still there.

"Yes, miss," Maggie said. She left and locked the door behind her.

Harley sighed and pouted. She hated being locked up, and Joe knew it. But what could she do? The windows were locked, and she didn't have the key. I could always pick the lock, she thought. Just then, her face lit up. Picking the lock! That was it. She rummaged around her room for something to pick the lock with. She finally found a hairpin in her desk drawer. She straightened it and went over to the window. She began to pick the lock.

Just then, the lock in the door began to jiggle. Someone was opening the door. Harley turned her head to watch the lock turn; though, she couldn't really see the bolt at all. She pulled the hairpin from the window lock and stuck it into her pocket. She quickly sat on a chair by the window, making out like she was looking out the window. She wasn’t anxious to see what he'd do if he caught her trying to break out. Then Joe walked in.

A little ways away, Specs was searching for Pulitzer's mansion. He really didn't know where it was. He thought it was stupid of him to even try. He was never going to find her again.

Then he saw the carriage that had taken Harley away from him. It drove past him, and in it was Seitz. Specs ran in the direction that it had come. Lucky for him that the carriage had left only about a minute previous and wasn't very far from Pulitzer's mansion. Specs slowed and began to walk down the street looking for something to indicate Pulitzer's mansion. Then he saw it, on a wall by a gate to one mansion, a name. Specs walked over to the house to read the name. It read "Joseph Pulitzer 12475 Park Avenue." Specs was ecstatic. He'd found her!

Specs looked for a way to get in. He didn't see one; the gates were locked. Then he saw some wrought iron fences down the street a little, still on Pulitzer's property. He walked over to it and figured he could either slip through the bars or climb over. He did and got inside the compound.

In Harley's room, Pulitzer walked over to her. "What are you doing there?" he demanded.

Harley just looked up at him with hatred in her eyes. "Sitting," she replied, as if it weren't obvious.

Pulitzer grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "Don't give me that, girl. I'm not falling for your bull anymore, or your attitude. You will stay here for the rest of your life, or you'll spend it in the Refuge. Take your pick," he said sternly.

"I pick the Refuge," Harley retorted and glared at him angrily.

"Ha! The Refuge is too nice a place for a whore like you," Pulitzer said throwing her on the ground and walking to the door.

Harley's eyes flared. "Why you..." she screamed as she ran for him.

Pulitzer shut the door to her room just before she reached him. Harley slammed into the door, even though she knew it was shut, and pulled at the knob. It was locked. Drat! she thought. She was furious. Harley yanked the knob for a little while longer, all the time shouting at Pulitzer on the other side of the door. She pounded on the door and tried with all her might to open it. She couldn't.

Finally she let up and turned her back to the door. She leaned against the door, tears welling in her eyes. She let herself slip down the door to the floor, where she sat and pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She began to cry. She cried for a long time. Dinner never came.

Later that night, about 8:30 or so, Specs appeared at her window. Harley had since stopped crying, but her face was still resting on her arms. Specs tapped on the window. Harley looked at him, not knowing who he was. Then she realized what she was seeing.

"Specs!" she exclaimed. She stood up and quickly walked, almost ran, to her window. She tried to open it, forgetting that Maggie had locked it. "Damn-it!" she swore angrily.

Just then she heard a noise at the door. She spun around, expecting to see Pulitzer. It wasn't him at all; it was Maggie. Harley looked back at the window. Specs was gone. Harley sighed in relief.

"I brought ya yer dinner, miss," Maggie said.

"Thanks, Mags," Harley said as Maggie set the tray she was carrying on the desk.

Maggie left the room, locked the door, and went down the hall. Harley went over to see what she had brought her to eat. Harley stood at the edge of her desk and was about to lift the cover off the plate when something caught her eye. She looked closer at the spot on the tray. Then she picked up a small object. It was the key to the window.

A thin smile made its way to Harley's mouth. "Thanks, Maggie. Thank ya fer my freedom," she said quietly as one last tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. Then Harley stuck the key into her pocket and found a pad of paper and a pen. Then she began to write on the paper.

Joe-
Sorry, but I picked the Refuge. You won't take me, so I decided to go there on my own. See you in Hell, Joe. Your illegitimate daughter, Harlequinn

Then she ripped it off and stuck it on her pillow. She would never again be Angela Pulitzer. She was only Harlequinn, Harley. Then on a second sheet of paper, she wrote:

Thanks. I owe you one.

She ripped that page off and stuck it under the plate on the tray Maggie had brought.

She pulled the key back out of her pocket and walked to the window. She unlocked it and slid it open quietly. She tucked the key down into her corset and climbed out onto the ledge. She shut the window and looked up at the ledge on the roof. Then she saw Specs peer over the side. She smiled.

"Harley!" Specs said, surprised that, for one, she'd gotten out, and, second: she was standing on the ledge like she had no fear of it at all. She really didn't. She'd been on that ledge many times before, and she'd lived much of her life in the custody of Joseph Pulitzer. She had nothing left to be afraid of.

Harley reached for the ledge above her head. Specs reached down and grabbed her hand and helped her up. She really didn't need help, but she let him help her anyway. She wasn't sure she could pull herself up anyway. She wasn't sure she had the strength anymore. Specs pulled Harley onto the roof and into his arms. He never wanted to let her go again.

"Thanks, Specs, really," Harley said. "Now, let's git outta here fast. Joe'll be back soon."

Specs nodded and they ran for the fire escape, which Specs had climbed to get to the roof in the first place. He’d climbed down to every window until he found hers, too. They climbed down to ground level and ran across the lawn to the back gate. It was the servants’ entrance and was always open. They got out into the street and ran back to the lodging house at full speed.

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© 1997 Gail/Birdie Kelley