Get your own Free Home Page
"Damnit, Spot. What da hell do you want?" I asked him, trying to stay calm.
"We needed ta tawlk," he answered, calming down himself.
"Really? Ya coulda jist asked," I said, rolling my eyes.
He sighed angrily. "We had a deal eoilier. Ya didn't honah it," he said.
"Yer the one who called me a prostitute."
"Let's jist get beyond dat fer a minute. Kin we?!"
"Awright. Lemme ask ya one question though, Spot." He nodded. "Okay, do you feel remorse?"
"What's dat?"
"Regret, do you ever regret anything?" I asked, completely calm again. He looked at me. "Do ya ever feel anything?"
"Yeah," he said, obviously thinking that I was nuts.
"How 'bout pain; and I don't mean the physical type."
"Pain?"
"And pleasure? Happiness?"
"What's dis all about?" he asked.
"Spot, do people fear you?" I asked.
"No," he answered and looked at the floorboards.
"Do they respect you?"
"Jack 'n' da boys downstairs do." He looked back at me.
"What about everyone else in New York?" I asked.
"Why should dey feah er respect me?" he asked.
"Why don't they respect you?
"Why should dey?"
"Spot, yer a handsome boy, strong, suave, admirable. There's no real reason why they shouldn't. I'm sure you could whip them any day of the week. And yer certainly the best looking boy I've seen in New York," I said. I was trying to flatter him and convince him. Quite a good negotiation tactic I think.
"Ise all dat?" he asked, a little surprised.
I blushed a little. "And more," I said quetly. "But that's beside the point. You need to get the rest of New York to respect you. It's imperative that they respect you. It's not so important that they fear you, but the must respect you. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I think so," he answered.
"Good, I hope that you do. I hope you really do," I said.
"What do I gots ta do?"
"I dunno. That I'll hafta think about," I answered and stared at the floor.
"What d'you want?" he asked.
I looked back at him. "I teach you to be respected and feared by New York, and probably everywhere else, and you teach me to fight," I replied seriously.
He looked at me. "Why d'ya wanna know how tah fight?" he asked, a little confused.
"That's the deal, Spot. Take it er leave it," I said.
He looked at me. It seemed like he was figuring what to do. I looked into his eyes to see if I could see what I didn't see before. I saw a glimmer of something, but not enough to formulate a conclusion.
"Deal," he said and spit in his palm. He held his hand out to me.
I smiled and spit in my own palm. We shook hands. "Okay, we've done it yer way; now we do it mine," I said. I held up my hand, with the pinki extended. Spot looked at me. He mimiced my action. I linked my pinki with his and kissed my thumb. He did the same.
"Dat's a new one," he said once he had let go of my pinki.
"It's what Jax and I use. Now we both hafta honor it, no matter what."
"No mattah what," he repeated.
"Awright, let's git started," I said, pulling off my sweat shirt and tossing it across the room.
Spot blinked. "Dat's a mighty skimpy shoit," he commented.
"Well, get used to it. It's what I'll be wearing every time I'm learnin' tah fight," I said with a smile. "It's easier this way, trust me. I hate sleeves; can't stand 'em."
He shrugged. "Awright, here's what I want ya tah do, try tah block me if ya can," he said.
He set down his hat, cane, and sling shot on a table. He chose a good stance to fight me. He lunged and I dodged. He tried to punch me; I blocked his hand and shoved it to the side. He began circling me. He came at me a few more times I dodged every time. I decided that it was my turn. I tried to punch him, but he caught my arm and gripped my wrist tightly. He threw me over his shoulder. I flew through the air and smacked onto the floor.
"Sorry," he said, almost remorsefully, but not quite.
Suddenly, there were elephant feet on the stairs. Apparantly all the guys, plus Jax, were bounding up the stairs to see what had happened. Jack, Jax, and Mush were first into the room; followed by Blink, Race, and Dutchy.
I pulled myself up off the floor, but I still wasn't quite ready to stand. I just kept on the floor and sat up. "Hey guys, how ya doin'?" I greeted, brushing my bangs out of my face.
"Birdie, what happened?" Jax asked, walking closer to me and giving Spot an evil look.
"Oh, nuthin'. We were jist havin' a bit a fun," I answered, glancing at Spot. Jax looked at me. She obviously didn't buy it. "He was teaching me how tah fight," I clarified.
"Uh-huh," Jack said. He leaned over to Race and Blink. "Why's Spot doin' charity woik?" They shrugged.
Spot clearly heard what Jack had said. He offered to help me up. I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. "They don't trust it," he whispered to me.
"I knew they wouldn't. It's not gonna be easy, Spot. It'll be mighty tough tah change it. You might end up with yer head on a stick," I said with a mild laugh. The guys were confused.
"Whattah ya tawlkin' 'bout, Boidie?" Race asked.
"That's a story for another time, Race. Maybe I'll read it to you," I said, remembering all the books I'd read back home. I looked at the time on my watch. "It's late, we should all get to sleep. It may be a long day tomorrow." Nobody moved.
Spot intervened. "Ya hoid 'er! Git tah bed, alla ya!" he yelled. The guys scrambled out of the room and down to their bunk room. Spot lingered. "See youse in da mornin'," he said, grabbing his things from the table.
"See ya tomorrow, Spot, g'night," I said as he left the room and shut the door.
Jax squealed. "What's goin' on between you and Spot?" she asked gleefully.
I looked at her. "Nothin', Jax. We made a deal, that's all. I get New York to respect him; he teaches me how tah fight."
Jax got a little angry. "You said we couldn't interfere," she told me.
"No, Jax, I said we couldn't share our knowledge. I said nothing about helping them along," I replied.
"It's the same thing!"
"No, it's not. We can't tell them about either World War, the Titanic, movies, fast-food, computers, C.D.s, stuff like that. We kin sure help them achieve things. I'm not violating any promise by helping New York to respect Spot Conlon. He needs to be a household name, Jax. Right now, he's not. He needs to be. The fate of the newsies next summer depends on it," I explained. "I do have faith in him, but I'm not sure if he's capable of making himself known like he should be." I shrugged.
Jax nodded. "Awright, I gotcha. Let's get some sleep. Like ya said, it's gonna be a long day tomorrow." I nodded and Jax climbed into a bed.
I walked across the room and flicked off the lights. The room was engulfed in darkness. I felt my way over to my bunk and slid under the blankets. I fell fast asleep. I now waited for time to bring the next day. I wondered what would happen. Would Spot beat the crap out of me or would he fall for me? Would I meet the Delanceys? Would the guys like to teach me how to sell papers? Would I ever get the time to get some shots of them and the Brooklyn Bridge?
I decided that Spot was taking me to Brooklyn in the morning and I'd take some shots of the Brooklyn Bridge from underneath, getting the skyline in the shot. I'd also take a few shots of Spot and the guys, for the memories. I wanted to remember them just as they are. And I didn't know when I would be going home, or even if I would be able to.
Stay tuned next week for Day 2 of The Days of Yore
*yore: long ago; time past and especially long past.
**I know all about ASL word-order. But, ASL isn't a written language and it's a little hard to comprehend when ya write it that way. So, for the sake of all you ASL illiterate people, it's being written in English word-order. It's just easier for everyone to understand it. Also, I'm writting words that would usually be left out. But that's, again, just for the understanding of the general public. Sorry Deaf Community.
***This is a phrase I coined from the Sqweeks and Action story (When the Dice Are Rollin'). I hope Sqweeks and Action don't mind, but I actually do say it from time to time. If either of you object, write me and I'll change it. Action said it was okay, so I'm good.
Get your own Free Home Page