Back at the lodging house, the boys were talking amongst themselves. They were all talking about the events that had occurred earlier that day.

"I can't believe dat Spot did dat," Jack said angrily.

"I know, Jack, but maybe he's still hurtin' from when dey was tagedda," Blink theorized with a shrug.

"No! Spot just wanted ta hurt her. Again."

"Yer both wrong," came a voice from the doorway. All the newsies turned to see who it was. "He's a cynic," the voice finished with a slight air of sarcasm.

"Harley!" Jack exclaimed, rather surprised.

"Hey ya, Jackey-boy," Harley said.

Jack walked over and hugged her. "Joe let ya go?" he asked as he pushed Harley to an arm's length and looked into her eyes.

Harley laughed. "Ya know better ‘an dat, Jack. Joe'd neva let me go. I got out da same way I did last time," she said. "Only dis time, he ain't gonna find me," she said as her green eyes darkened.

"Whatta ya gonna do?" Jack asked.

Harley turned and walked towards the window. "Find Spot," she declared. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly shut it. If he had said what he were going to say, Harley would’ve had a fit. Instead, Jack just looked around at the other newsies, for support or help.

Specs decided he was going to help out a little. "Harley, yer not gonna hurt him, are ya?" he asked, almost nervous for the Brooklyn boy.

Harley turned to look Specs in the eyes. "No, he won't feel a thing from me," she replied calmly and quietly.

"Harley, ya can't hurt him. None of us like him all dat much, but we don't wanna see him hurt," Specs tried to explain.

"Ya don't know anythin', none of ya do. This is between me an’ Spot," she said, almost furiously. "You don't know what he did ta me," she said quietly, almost as an afterthought.

"We would if ya told us," Specs said as he moved closer to her. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

All the other newsies were just watching and listening. They wanted to find out about Harley's past just as much as Specs did. They were curious too. Unfortunately, they didn't know what they were getting themselves into. Only Jack, Crutchy, and Harley knew.

"Ya really wanna know," Harley said, as a rhetoric question.

"Yeah," Specs answered and stepped back from her. Harley turned back to the window and looked out into the barren, quiet streets. She stood there, unblinking, staring out into the dark night of the city.

After a few minutes, she finally spoke. "I told ya 'bout Spot turnin' me over ta Joe the first time. Now he's done it twice. He'll pay fer both of 'em. A little over a year ago, I woulda forgiven Spot and left him alone. Since he'd turned me over ta Joe 'bout a month previous. But then he went and did somethin' real stupid," she said. She was still staring out the window. All the newsies watched and listened intently.

Jack didn't want to hear the rest of the story, so he left the room and went up to the roof. Race was the only one who noticed, but he quickly turned to hear the rest of Harley's story.

"I had a real good friend fer a long time," Harley continued after a few seconds. "She was da nicest, sweetest person ya could ever meet. She was only nine. She wasn't my sister, or blood family, but she was MY family. I found her in da Bronx a few years back, she'd been soaked by some thugs pretty bad. I was livin' here at da time. I brought her back, and we fixed her up real good. A few months later, Jack and me went ta Brooklyn ta meet Spot. Angel, dat was her name, it was short fer Angelica, came wit' us. She stayed behind Jack mosta da time though. Den sometime later, Spot and me got tagedda. Few weeks lata, Spot returned me ta Joe." She stopped for a moment to hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

"A few times, Jack could get a letter ta me through Maggie, Joe's housekeepa. In one of da last ones, he told me dat Angel was soaked real bad. I escaped from Joe's and ran back here ta see her as fast as I could. But, by da time I got here, Angel was dead." Harley paused again, this time a few tears rolled down her face; she couldn't stop them.

"Who killed ‘er?" someone asked. Harley didn't hear him, she was immersed in her memories.

"I asked Jack who did it. All he said was 'Spot.' I stayed by Angel's bed da rest of da night. Den in da mornin, I started fer Brooklyn. Da bulls found me and brought me back ta Joe. I was in no mood ta struggle. So I promised myself dat when I got out, I'd make Spot pay.

"I escaped a few days later and went to Brooklyn, fer Spot. I soaked Spot real good dat day. But da newsies in Brooklyn had a problem wit' it, so dey soaked me, and I got brought ta da Refuge. Joe brought me back home and locked me in my room fer almost a year. He let me roam 'round da house after dat. Den few days ago, I escaped again and came here. Ya know da rest," Harley said. She never took her eyes away from the dark scene she saw out the window.

The newsies couldn't really believe what they had heard. Spot? Kill a girl? That was too much for them. They didn't understand it. They couldn’t understand it. The Spot Conlon they knew would never hurt a girl, unless he broke her heart, unintentionally. But that came with the territory of being the leader of Brooklyn. None of the newsies could believe that Spot Conlon would do a thing like that.

"Spot killed yer friend?" Race asked. Harley just nodded slightly, still staring out the window.

"I'm sorry, Harley," Specs said, walking over to her and putting is hand on her shoulder.

Harley turned her head to look into Specs's eyes. Specs thought she was going to say something, but she didn't. She just looked into his eyes, tears welling in her own. Then she just looked back out the window. Specs sighed and looked down at the floor. There was nothing more he could do. He turned and went to get ready for bed. All the other newsies were slowly stripping down to their underwear and getting under the covers. Specs did the same, and someone turned out the lights.

Jack came back down and gotten ready for bed in the dark. He was sad, too, and even though he hadn't heard Harley tell the story, he knew what she had said. He fell asleep shortly after he climbed into bed. Harley continued to stare out the window. She only moved once the whole night. That was to sit down on the window ledge. She sat there the entire night, never sleeping nor moving.

Boots jumped as usual. "Why?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and climbed out of bed.

Jack was next to be jarred awake. "Jack! Time ta sell da papers, wake up!"

"Can't ya find a bettah way ta wake us up?" Jack asked with a yawn. Kloppman just laughed and continued to wake the boys.

When Kloppman came to Harley's bunk, she wasn't there. He looked around the room and finally spotted her on the window ledge. He shrugged and continued his routine. The rest of the boys were getting dressed. Specs saw Harley still sitting by the window. He didn't know what to do, so he went to Jack.

"Hey, Jack, could ya tawk wit' Harley. Somethin's wrong, an’ ya know her better den me," Specs said.

"Sure," Jack replied. He splashed some water on his face when he was finished shaving and walked over to Harley. "Hey, Harley, ya sleep good? Oh, I fergot, you'se been here all night," Jack tried to make her laugh.

Harley just turned her head to look at him, only acknowledging that he was there. "Jack," she started. Jack sat down on the other side of the ledge. "Spot still sell where he used ta?" she asked with a blank expression on her face.

Jack began to realize something. "Are ya gonna hurt him?" Jack asked seriously.

"Like I said last night, he won't feel a thing."

"I don't want ya hurtin' him like ya did last time," Jack said.

A weak smile fell upon Harley's lips. "Don't worry, I won't," she said calmly, almost suspiciously.

"Good," Jack said. He got up and said "Ya comin' ta sell taday?"

Harley shook her head. "Nope," she answered. She continued to sit there, not moving an inch.

"All right, come ta Tibby's fer lunch. Okay?" he said; she nodded. Jack kissed her on the top of the head and went to join the guys at the circulation office.

After the bunkroom was completely clear, Harley got up off the ledge. She went over to her bunk and pulled her sack out from under it. She pulled out a small object from a hidden pocket and stuck it in her own pocket. She walked out of the bunkroom quickly and went to get a small breakfast. She ate it and then left for Brooklyn.

In Brooklyn, the newsies were either selling or reading the headlines. Spot was near Prospect Park, where he always sold his papers. He went into an alley for a smoke and a short break. He never realized who was following him.

"Hey ya, Spot," someone behind him called.

Spot spun around and looked into the eyes of the person behind him. "Harley," he said looking at her, a twinge of fear in his voice.

"Spot, from what I hear, ya gots no girl. Dat true?"

"What d'ya want?" Spot asked, not taking his eyes off her. Perhaps to see some slip-up she could possibly make.

"D'ya have a girl er not?" Harley repeated.

Spot became slightly agitated. "No," he said, seeing that the conversation wouldn't go any further if he didn't answer.

Harley smiled and nodded her head. "Good," she finally said. She began to circle Spot. The mischievous grin on her face scared Spot a little.

"What?" he asked, a little confused.

Harley came back in front of Spot. She looked into his blue eyes, they were intoxicating, but there was no time for that now. "Dat ya got no girl," Harley explained.

Spot wasn't sure what she was getting at. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because, if ya did, I couldn't thank ya properly," she said.

"Thank me fer what?" Spot was extremely confused. The last time he'd seen her, she was going to kill him. Now she was calm and collected. Something was definitely amiss.

"Fer helpin' Joe ta find me," she said with a wry smile. She put her hands on his shoulders and led him back to the wall. She stepped closer and looked into his eyes, still holding his shoulders. "Thanks," she said quietly. Then she kissed him.

Spot hadn't expected her to kiss him, but he sure remembered what a fabulous kisser she was, so let her do it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Harley let up, stepped back, and licked her lips. Spot just looked at her, with his usual sly smirk. His eyes suddenly widened, and he clutched his throat. He couldn't breathe.

"Harley--" Spot tried to get out as he fell to his knees.

"Ya know, Spot, you should know better ‘an ta cross me. Ya knew I could be yer best friend or yer worst enemy. Sorry it had ta be the second one, but, ya know. I've been plannin' this eva since ya killed Angel. It certainly helped that I had an immunity ta this poison. Too bad you don't," Harley said smirking. She found a certain whimsy in his misery.

Spot was kneeling on the ground still clutching his throat and desperately trying to breathe. "Poison? Why? Why..." Spot got out.

"It's only fair, after all ya did ta me," Harley said, staring at him, reveling in her work. She laughed evilly and walked out of the alley, licking the rest of the poison off her lips. She enjoyed the way it tasted, especially on Spot.

A little while later, some of the Brooklyn newsies found Spot. He was dead. They never found out who did it. But he died without feeling any pain. Exactly what Harley had promised. The poison wasn’t painful. It just felt like suffocation as it interacted with the person’s blood.

Around lunch time, Harley walked into Tibby's. All the newsies were there. Harley was in very high spirits. "Hey ya, boys, anythin' new?" Harley greeted happily.

"Harley? I takes it yer feelin' betta," Jack noticed.

Harley just laughed. "Oh yes, Jack, much betta." She went to get a drink from a waiter behind the counter. He handed her a glass of root beer. She drank it quickly to wash the remaining drops of poison from her lips.

Then Specs walked in. He wasn't nearly as happy as Harley, but he was glad to see her. "Harley! Ya look much bettah," Specs said as he walked over to her, a newfound smile on his face.

Harley smiled and put her hand on Specs's shoulder. "Thanks, Specs," she said and finished her drink. She went to sit at Jack's table. At that moment, someone walked through the door.

"Hey ya, Duke," Jack greeted. "What's up?"

"It's Spot, Jack," Duke began.

"I don't wanna hear 'bout him, I'm havin' a good day. He'll jist muss it up," Jack said.

"He's dead, Jack." A sudden silence engulfed the restaurant. Everyone wanted to hear what Duke had to say. "We found him in an alley, lyin' on da ground. No blood, no weapons, no bruises, no nothin’. Don't know how he died," Duke told everyone. Jack listened to Duke and then turned to Harley. He gave her an insinuating look.

"Don't look at me, Jack," she said gleefully as she put her hands up in defense. Jack continued to look at her, as if accusing her of killing Spot. "I didn't hurt ‘im, Jack," she said truthfully.

"When'd ja see him last?" he asked, still not buying her excuse.

"Earlier taday," she answered. All the newsies were now beginning to think the same as Jack. Specs was confused.

"Ya said ya wouldn't hurt him," Jack reminded her.

"I didn't hurt him, Jack," Harley said innocently. She WAS telling the truth after all. Spot had felt no pain.

Jack gave her a disapproving look. "Ya didn't hurt him." Harley agreed. "Why'd ya go ta see him den?" he asked.

"I jist wanted ta thank him, dat's all," she replied.

"Did'ja touch him? Hurt him?" Jack asked.

"Jack, Duke ova there said there was no blood, no wounds, no nothin'. If I'd wanted ta kill ‘im, I woulda used a weapon of some sort. Use yer head, Jack." Harley rolled her eyes. She was avoiding the question. No one seemed to notice.

"Did you touch him?" he enunciated every word. Jack was angry at her now. She was being very coy. Jack hated it.

"Only fer a little while," she admitted.

"So ya did kill him," Jack concluded.

"Nothin' says I killed ‘im, Jack. I jist went ta give him a good-bye kiss, dat's all. I couldn'ta done it if I didn't touch him, now, could I?" Harley said.

"Ya kissed him, dat's all?"

"Yes, Jack, don't you believe me?" she asked, acting like she was hurt.

"Den ya left?"

"Of course, ya think I wanted ta hang 'round Brooklyn all day. Even when I was datin' Spot I didn't like ta hang 'round dere," Harley said and shuddered.

Jack turned to look at the rest of the guys. They were all looking at him and Harley. Then Jack realized something. He looked back at Harley. "Did’ja use it?" he asked.

Harley got a confused look on her face. She had no clue what he was talking about. "Use what?" she asked.

Jack looked at her. "Ya got a small item from someone 'bout a year ago, did’ja use it taday?" he asked, trying to imply the small vial of poison she'd gotten.

Harley looked at him, confusion still in her eyes. Then she realized what he was talking about. "Jack, ya know me better than that," she said, somewhat disappointed. "Besides, why would I waste it on Spot? It’s reserved fer Joe." Jack gave her an oh-really? look. She returned the look, only hers was a little more nastily done.

"Prove it," Jack said, trying to make her plan backfire.

Harley looked at him and rolled her eyes. She looked around at the newsies, and then spied Specs. She smiled. "Okay, Jack," she said delightedly. She stood up and walked over to Specs.

"What's she doin', Jack?" Race asked. Jack just watched her and ignored Race. All the newsies had turned to see what Harley was going to do.

Harley stepped closer to Specs and put her hand on his shoulder. Then she slid her hand from his shoulder to behind his head. She looked into his eyes, and then she kissed him, a long passionate kiss. Needless to say Specs was ecstatic. All the newsies, except Jack, cheered for Specs.

Harley let up and turned her head to look at Jack, as if asking if he were satisfied with her demonstration. Jack grumbled and resumed eating his lunch. Harley just laughed and turned back to Specs. He was a bit bewildered. He really hadn't expected it, but it was nice.

All the newsies returned to eating. Specs and Harley sat down at a table in the corner of the room. Duke had left and gone back to Brooklyn soon after Harley kissed Specs. His only job was to deliver the message to Jack. He had gotten a bit more information though.

"Harley," Specs said quietly, looking down at the table.

"Yeah, Specs?" Harley lowered her head to catch Specs's eyes.

Specs looked up at her. "Why'd ja do it?"

"Do what?" Harley asked and took a sip of her drink.

"Kiss me I mean."

"Ya didn't want me to?" she asked, almost hurt.

"No, I didn't mean that, I..."

Harley put her hand on Specs's arm. "Specs, Jack needed me ta prove somethin'..."

"Oh," Specs interrupted, and he looked back down at the table.

"Well, if ya let me finish! Jack needed me ta prove somethin', but I've been wantin' ta do dat fer a while. I just neva got 'round to it," Harley finished with a slight shrug. Specs looked back up at her. "Really," she confirmed. Specs forced a smile. He wasn't sure, but there was something she wasn't telling him.

After lunch, all the newsies went out to the square and waited for the afternoon edition. Some of them decided to gamble by the statue while others sat around and talked. Specs and Harley sat on one side of the statue with Jack, David, Les, Blink, Mush, and Crutchy. They were all talking. Blink lit a cigarette and passed it around the circle after he'd taken a drag on it.

"Harley, will ya tell me da truth?" Specs asked in the middle of a conversation.

Harley turned to look at Specs. "Sure, Specs. What about?"

"Did'ja kill Spot?" he asked looking her right in the eyes.

Harley took the cigarette from Mush and took a drag on it. She blew the smoke out slowly and looked back at Specs. "We had a whole lengthy discussion 'bout that at lunch. Weren't ya listenin'?" Harley asked, avoiding a direct answer.

"Yeah, I just want da truth," Specs explained.

Harley just laughed a little and shook her head. Then she passed the cigarette on to someone else in the circle. She never did answer the question. Specs was about to ask again when the circulation bell began to ring.

"Time ta hawk da headlines," Blink said, almost as if it were a chore, as he stood up. All the newsies began to line up inside. It was time for the tedious routine of selling papers everyday, twice a day. Possibly for the rest of their lives.

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© 1997 Gail/Birdie Kelley

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