Defeating the Obsolete

By: Morning Dew

DISCLAIMER: The characters from Newsies don't belong to me gosh darnit! Meow, Apollonia, and Dimples own themselves.

A.N.: This story is loosely based on an actual event that I had heard about a while ago. Now thinking on it, I can't remember the exact details, but I replicated the basics of the tale and set the story back in Newsies times of course. And naturally added a few more characters and other background stories just to keep the story moving along nicely. Hope ya like it.

~*Defeating the Obsolete*~

On a table laden with dust and with cobwebs stretching across its undersides like fragile creatures expanding their limbs sat Angel, Dimples, and Morning Dew gazing out over the hordes of children before them like guardian angels keeping vigilance over their brethren.

Angel, better known as Meow, sighed at the sight and sagged her figure against the wall the table was situated beside. "Our numbers is growin' biggah every day. We'se gunna break a hundred in no time; and woise of all, they's mostly not even thoiteen yet!"

The other two girls nodded. The Brooklyn lodging house was steadily reaching its maximum occupancy and sooner or later, some boys would have to be turned to the streets. But Spot Conlon would try every other solution first before subjecting the youth to the same tumbleweed existence he had once known, for he considered the newsies as offspring of his brood and would not see a single one suffer as a riff raff.

Speaking of the leader, he happened to enter the home then, a respectful silence sweeping over the masses until the young man nodded a greeting and proceeded further into the main room. The noise resumed.

"Heya Spot," Meow smiled.

Spot took off his hat; his sandy blonde strands of hair falling loosely pass his ears. "Heya Meow, what's kickin'?"

"Well aftah we'se done ya lousy baby-sittin', ya think youse can let us hit da streets tahnight? I'se can't even remembah da last time I'se had a date wid me boy Blink!"

"One day watchin' the kiddies and youse already complainin'?" He laughed and caught her hand midair as she tried to smack him. "Just until Mistah Scaparti comes back, we'se gotta make shoah the little kids is safe and all. Maybe you'll loin tah bettah appreciate our lodgin' house keepah when he retoins now that ya know what he has tah put up wid."

As Meow grumbled, the Brooklyn leader's eyes fell upon Morning Dew. "Dewey, can I'se see ya in me room fer a minute?"

Meow and Dimples shared a curious look, though both wore knowing grins. The latter spoke up. "Spot, it wasn't Dewey's fault the kids boined down those kitchen cabinets. Don't take it out on 'er!"

"It aint none of ya concern who I'se take it out on," he replied sternly, waiting for Morning Dew to arise to her feet. When she did, they ascended the staircase to the first floor where Spot's room was located and entered into the quarters, the Brooklyn leader smirking as he closed the door behind him. "I swear, it gets hardah and hardah each day tah tear ya apart from those two!"

He grabbed her around the waist and roughly pulled her against him with a devilish look masking his face. "So wheah were youse all day?"

"Everywheah and nowheah," she smiled back. "Spot...uhm, I gotta tell ya somethin' but I don't want youse gettin' mad at me or anything." He arched his eyebrow at this; whenever she accented her secrets with that introduction, he knew it was something bad. "Well...I kinda told a few people about 'us'."

"What!? Dewey, I thought we'se agreed tah keep it just between us! I remembah specifically sayin' that we'se had tah keep our mouths shut 'cause a' all the joiks that'd do anything tah hoit ya if they's knew youse were me goil!"

Morning Dew rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered that Spot was born to be a public speaker; how he leisured her! "I only told, like, one or two people..." in a lower voice she added, "...or four or five..."

"Five!"

"Yup." She broke out of his grasp, walked the width of the room, and plopped down onto the lower bunk of his bed. "Only Meow, Dimples, and Snitch last time I'se was in Manhattan. And I told ya cousin but only 'cause he kept askin' me whethah I had somethin' goin' fer youse. Oh, and I told ya friend Apollonia when we'se went tah the bookstore the other day. And..."

Spot touched his fingers to her lips to silence her and took a seat beside her. "Goil, youse is really puttin' it on me this time, eh?" Draping an arm over her shoulders he thought about the new predicament they were now in. Eventually, Spot and Morning Dew's relationship would be made known to everyone, even his enemies in Harlem and the Bronx. "Well ya know what then? Youse aint gunna be doin' ya charity woik no more. I'se don't want ya walking 'round New Yawk by yaself from now on, understand?"

She shrugged his arm off. "Youse can't tell me what tah do! 'Sides, if I'se doesn't visit them hospitals, who will? I can take care of meself, Spot. Ya aint gotta treat me like I'se some four-year old."

"Apparently I do if youse can't even keep a secret 'tween us." It had come out a bit too harshly, but he supposed it was the truth nonetheless. Morning Dew only glared at him and then a moment later left the room, slamming the door closed on her way out.

~*~*~*~*~

Morning Dew never did like the smells of hospitals; they always seemed to have a claustrophobic air about them, as if the semi-minty yet imposing stench offered threats to keep one bounded within the medical facilities for all time. The girl fixed her beige bowler hat over her wild curls of hair and made her way to room 109 where a good friend of hers named Cody, once a Brooklyn newsie, was bedded with pneumonia. She knocked once on his door and stepped inside with a cheerful smile.

"Heya Cody, how's it rollin'?"

The boy, younger in age by two years, wore a frown instantly replaced with a grin upon seeing the girl. His face brightened and even his eyes now beheld a sparkle of renewed hope. It was always a pleasure receiving Morning Dew as a visitor, as she was the only visitor he ever received! It seemed as if once one was ill, one was left to his own devices; humanity no longer cared for the well-being of its lesser peoples. "Hi Dewey. I'm doing okay, and you?"

She pulled a chair up to his bedside and sat on its edge. "I'se a bit tired actually, but then again, no one likes tah get outta their beds these days." They shared a light laugh. "So when can I'se expect tah see youse peddlin' da papes again? Ya been in heah fer three weeks already and we'se missin' youse back at the lodgin' house."

"Oh please, don't make it sound like anybody's caring back at Brooklyn. I bet they don't even remember that I'm here." His lips were drawn into a straight line, anger clearly expressed in his features. "You're the only one who was ever nice enough to drop by, Dewey. I could die right now and none of Brooklyn would care!"

"Cody, that aint true!" She took his hand in hers and waited for him to look at her. "I'se shoah they's keep youse in their prayahs and all. I mean, some of them is really busy. Sellin' papes weren't ever easy and they's gots tah make a livin'. I bet they'd like tah come see youse, but they nevah get a chance."

The boy smiled at her sadly. "When you live so busily that you don't have time to visit the people who need you most, then what are you living for?"

"Something that'll never satisfy youse I guess," she answered softly.

~*~*~*~*~

Apollonia closed the cash register of her bookstore after making a sale to a kindly old man and thanked him with a smile for his purchase. She beamed with pride at her success as of yet. Being an entrepreneur wasn't as easy as she had fancied it would be back in her New Orleans home, but things were looking up for her these days and the money was ever flourishing.

"Spot, is something bothering you?" Apollonia walked from behind the front counter up to her best friend, reaching out for a hug. He accepted the embrace and held her for a moment before holding her back at arm's length.

"Dewey's boithday is comin' up and I'se aint shoah what tah get 'er."

The girl pursed her lips in thought. "Well when is it?"

"In 'bout three months." She laughed and playfully pushed him aside. They started talking more on a personal level now, for it had been weeks since last they had seen each other. But then, Spot's younger cousin Runner along with Dimples barged into the small building nearly panting and interrupted them with their loud intrusion.

"Spotty, uh, don't tell Dewey I'se told youse this but while she was offerin' some food tah these boys in Manhattan, they's grabbed hold of 'er and mugged 'er. They's took all the food she was carryin' and all the money. They's woulda taken more but Dimples happened tah have her slingshot wid 'er and sent a few shootahs their way."

Dimples blushed at the mention of her saving the day. What she lacked in attitude and Brooklyn toughness, she made up with her sharp eyes and aiming techniques. Pulling her brown hair back into a ponytail now that she had a chance to catch her breath, she bit her lip and waited for Spot to respond. She and Runner knew the Brooklyn leader would be angered to learn of the events but his current reaction contradicted their predictions.

Apollonia would have agreed with them. She knew how much Spot cared about Morning Dew. When the two had been courting back in the day, it was she who had given Spot the extra nudge in convincing him to ask the girl out. Now looking at him, she assumed he was contemplating something, for the fiery rage that would have otherwise been in his eyes was absent. "Spot?"

"Did she get hoit?"

"Uhm..." Runner glanced at Dimples, unsure what to say. "Well, she, uhm. They's didn't have 'er fer that long..."

"Runnah, did she get hoit?" He articulated each syllable with that authoritative power of his and his look turned into a glare.

"Well, she's gots a few bruises on 'er arms and face, but she says she feels alright." Spot started forward to see about the problem in Brooklyn, but was momentarily stopped by his cousin, whose hesitancy was blatantly obvious. "Spot, please don't tell 'er I told ya 'bout this. She'd kill me if she knew it was me! Alright?"

Spot continued on, already out the door when he said, "don't worry 'bout it, Runnah."

~*~*~*~*~

Morning Dew soaked a rag with cold water in Spot's private washroom and applied it to the ugly purple mark on her upper arm that was swelling to an unworldly black color. Battle marks for trying to show kindness to the less fortunate. It didn't bother her, though. Some were grateful for her grace; some sneered at her and abused the girl until she sufficed them with more. She supposed it balanced out well. She certainly wouldn't be scared away from serving others; that was definitely not an option.

She had been the benevolent type ever since she had seen a play long ago produced by the church her family use to attend. The play concerned seven individuals on their afterlife journey to heaven, all thrilled to be going home until their failures to reach out to those who cried for help everyday in life were revealed and their access to eternity denied. Morning Dew had been shocked to say the least and from then on out she made a pledge to perform good deeds whenever she could.

As she washed the cuts on the palm of her left hand, someone entered the room and she almost felt her heart stop. If Spot were to see her like this, he'd blow up on her! She pulled down the sleeves of her light sweater, pinched her cheeks to bring back the blush in her face, and turned around just in time to find herself before Spot, who had swung open the washroom door without announcing his intentions to do so.

"Hey cutie," she said casually as she gave him a hug. He only looked at her indifferently. Feeling uncomfortable, she shifted her weight from one foot to another and waited for him to do something; anything!

He examined her face with narrowed eyes. "Where'd ya get that mark?" he asked, touching a slightly bruised area above her cheekbone. "Looks like someone socked ya good. Ya bump ya head or somethin'?"

"Yea," she said quickly. All too quickly.

"Dewey, stop lyin' tah me. I'se knows what happened tah youse tahday. Did ya think I wouldn't find out? Did ya think me boids wouldn't tell me?" He stepped closer to her and seemed to grow angrier with each advance. "Why would youse keep that from me? 'Cause ya realized I'se was right?"

Morning Dew glowered back at him, not at all daunted. "Don't talk tah me like that! I didn't tell youse 'cause I didn't wanna, 'cause youse aint gotta know every friggin detail of me life. I'se ya goil, not ya slave."

"Youse bettah stop this charity crap, I'se aint playin' wid youse. Ya wanna do somethin' nice, sell me papes fer me from now on." It was a joke meant to lighten the mood, but the girl didn't find any humor in it. This was a serious matter and she wasn't going to let Spot steal it from her.

"I'se gunna sleep in the bunkroom tahnight. Bye." She pushed past him and hurried to the hallways of the lodging house, Spot right on her heels.

"Ya can't walk out on our arguments alls da time!"

"Why not? You always do!" She swung open the door to Spot's room then and three newsies fell at her feet, as they had just been pressed up against the wooden structure to eavesdrop on what was going on in the argument between the Brooklyn leader and his girl. Runner, Meow, and Dimples. On their hands and feet, they looked up at the couple with innocent grins. Morning Dew had to laugh; they looked like toddlers just caught in the act of stealing sweets from a cookie jar.

Runner climbed to a stand and helped the two girls aside him to do the same. Then he smirked. "Well, uh, yea, Meow. I think youse were right. Spot's door really does sound like the ocean if ya listen hard enough!"

"See! I told youse!" Meow played along.

Spot sighed in annoyance. "Ya think we'se can get a lil' privacy heah?" The trio was about to turn and leave, but Morning Dew started after them.

"No, it's okay. We'se weren't talking 'bout anything too important." She threw a look at her boyfriend and continued. "Meow, is there any extra beds in the goils' bunkroom? Good. I'se sleepin' there then." She walked off, motioning for her friends to accompany her and leave Spot behind. They eventually did so, but not before receiving a menacing glare from the Brooklyn leader.

~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Scaparti looked through his files for the hundredth time that day but his efforts were all in vain. There was no longer anything he could do. Burdened by his worries, he rested his face into his hands and exhaled a breath of despair. What would he tell the Brooklyn newsies? They looked up to him; he was a close companion to them all and now he had let them down in a terrible way.

Nearly a decade ago he had purchased the building now sheltering them and had established the Brooklyn Newsboy Lodging House, which later came to house girls as well once young women became interested in peddling papers. Since then, the place had always been a source of refuge for the children who would otherwise have slept on the streets and alleys in huddled forms with only a threadbare blanket to fend off the foul weather New York was known for. Since its founding, the lodging house had seen hundreds of youth come and go in life, all bound by that one need every human seemed to display. Love.

And that's what Mr. Scaparti offered them. He was not only keeper of the lodging house, he was an advice-giver, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and a warrior that scared away the 'monsters' under the little ones' bunk bed.

But with the rent of his lot increasing every month and his bi-weekly salaries from the law firm where he worked lessening in amount, the day was all too closely coming when he would have to close down the lodging house and turn the newsies to either the other boroughs, the orphanage, the House of Refuge, or...the cruel streets. He shuddered.

The newsies didn't make enough money in one month to pay the rent of the place, even if all of Brooklyn put their funds together. What could he possibly do? He rubbed the temples of his head and groaned.

He just couldn't let those poor children go back to the slums.

~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, Morning Dew and Apollonia were strolling through Manhattan discussing nothing in particular and simply enjoying the beauty of the day; the type in which Spring was beginning to blossom and bright colors smiled at you whenever you passed a garden.

"That book of Oscar Wilde poems you had requested came in today," Apollonia said, remembering the order had been delivered the other day. "Do you want to pick it up?"

Morning Dew smiled. "Wow, I'se almost forgot 'bout that! Well, I left me money back at the lodgin' house anyways. I'll get it from youse tomorrow."

"Okay," the other replied. "Will you be stopping by to finish that book you started last time then?"

"Actually, I'se gotta meet a friend at the hospital. I think I'll just buy that book too next time I visit ya."

Apollonia bit her lip. She knew she wasn't supposed to let Morning Dew out of her sight whenever she was with her. Spot had asked her the favor and she wasn't about to let him down. More importantly, she didn't want to see her friend get harmed again by disrespectful hermits. "Perhaps you can help me stock up the shelves then? I recently sold out this novel series and had to order more copies."

"Maybe latah this week. Me friend is probably waitin' fer me and I'se don't wanna keep 'im. Sorry; it's just that he's really sick and I try tah spend as much time wid 'im as I can." As they neared Apollonia's store, Morning Dew was already prepared to say goodbye. She knew the girl had a tight schedule to adhere to, which is why she was only in the company of the newsies during the weekends. "Well, I'll see ya around, goil. Bye."

"Dewey, wait..." But the girl was already off on her way. Apollonia sighed. One required a leash to keep Morning Dew still!

~*~*~*~*~

On her way to the hospital, Morning Dew caught sight of a young girl around the age of seven with long waves of raven black hair and big, dark eyes that seemed like they could read into the future. She held a basket in her hands full of nearly wilting carnations, and every time someone would pass her way, the child would raise a flower to the person's face and with wide eyes ask if they wished to purchase one. She received no customers in the few minutes that Morning Dew watched her and the Brooklyn newsie couldn't help but pity the child.

She waited for a horse carriage to carry along down the street and then crossed over until she was standing right before the young girl and could smell death not only in the flowers but on the dirty fabrics the child wore.

"Would yeh like teh buy e' flow'r, miss?" The girl asked in an accent Morning Dew could not decipher.

"How much is youse askin' fer 'em?"

"Only e' penny each." The girl's eyes were tearful now, and Morning Dew did not know whether that was due to the soot of a nearby factory saturating the air or the breaking heart of poverty that the child harbored.

She nodded and took some pocket change out the pocket of her pants. "Well then, heah's a bit fer da whole bouquet. And anothah bit fer ya customah service." She placed the coins in the girl's hands, took the basket of flowers from her and smiled.

The little girl was rendered speechless. "Thank yeh, miss! God bless yeh!" A childish laughter annihilated the gloom she had suffered through that morning and she skipped away giggling at her new triumph.

Morning Dew watched her until she was lost in the massive crowds of New Yorkans and then hurried off to the hospital. Cody was having a check- up performed when she arrived and so she had been advised to wait in the lobby until its completion. It was only a fifteen-minute wait and soon she was able to sit beside her friend, after setting the flowers she had purchased on his nightstand, and talk with him for a short bit.

"Nice flowers," said Cody. "But you know the nurses will only take them out for the night so that they don't take up all the oxygen."

Morning Dew nodded. "That's alright. So I see the nurses is checkin' up on youse more and more. That's gotta be good, right? When they's start doin' that, it usually means ya gunna be released soon. Wouldn't that be great? Just in time fer Medda's Spring Dance! Ya use tah love those things, remembah?"

He laughed. "Yea, Medda's the best. She treats all the newsies like we're her family, ya know?" His eyes became distant as if he were recalling a memory from the depths of his mind. "I wish I belonged to a real family. I wish I had a real mother and father, and real siblings. I grew up in an orphanage. I guess my parents didn't want me."

"Don't say that, Cody. There coulda been other circumstances." She watched him laying there in those white sheets, too weak to walk, too weak to live the normal life she was everyday enjoying. How one's actions determined the situations others found themselves in! If Cody's parents hadn't put him up for adoption, would he be sick right now, or well off in some Victorian home? Would she have ever met him, or would his friends be those that attended elite schools and social clubs?

She took off her hat and took a folded paper out of it, its form softened from years of handling. She opened it until it reached its 8x11 inch size and smiled down at the handwritten script. It was her birth certificate. Well, her brother's. But they were twins and so it really didn't matter; both their names were written on both copies anyways. "What if I'se adopted youse into me family, Cody? I aint got much left of it meself. I'd be more than happy tah include youse in."

"You keep your birth certificate in your hat?" He understood all too well, though. Had he evidence of his bloodline and heritage, he would keep it close to him always as well. He looked over hers and smiled. "So you going to make me a Rembrandt?"

She took back the paper, collected a pen from his nightstand and wrote in Cody's name right after hers. "There we go. Now it's Andrew, Lillian, and Cody Rembrandt. I had tah squeeze in ya name, but it's all good." She showed him the results and he nodded his approval. "How's it feel tah be part of a family, bruddah?"

He smiled at her. "Complete."

~*~*~*~*~

Spot paced back and forth in the main room of his lodging house, Dimples and Runner growing dizzy just watching him. It was nearing the late hours of the evening and Morning Dew still hadn't checked in for a night's stay. He combed his fingers through his hair in frustration. Rampant thoughts raced through his mind at a haphazard speed. What if she was hurt somewhere and he didn't know? What if she was lost and unable to find her way home?

Runner cleared his throat. "Spot, ya really gotta calm down. She's probably hangin' wid Snitch in Manhattan or helpin' Apollonia close 'er store. I seriously doubt she's in any trouble."

"I agree," said Dimples. "She usually doesn't do any charity stuff durin' the night anyways. Ya worryin' ovah nothin', Spotty. She'll come through them doors any minute, you just wait."

Spot looked into her calm brown eyes and almost relaxed, but the tension within him was too overwhelming. "Ugh! I swear I'se gunna kill that goil!" He carried on with his worries until he spun around upon hearing Meow's loud chattering as the girl descended the stairs along with...Morning Dew! "Dewey, where did youse come from!?"

"Her muddah?" Meow replied with a baffled look on her face. The others snickered at the joke; Spot laughed sarcastically and neared Morning Dew to take her in his arms.

"I'se been worried sick 'bout youse," he whispered into her ear, still slightly uncomfortable with acting out his feelings in front of the others since he had grown so accustomed to keeping the relationship a secret.

Morning Dew smiled at his concern. "I climbed the fire escape 'bout an hour ago and entered in through da back way. Meow dared me tah do it 'cause she teased me 'bout being 'fraid of heights." She looked over Spot's shoulder and directed her next comment at her friend. "But I'se shoah proved 'er wrong!"

"Yea, yea, yea." Meow stuck her tongue out at the girl and they burst into giggles.

~*~*~*~*~

Nights later, Spot watched Morning Dew talk to the stars in the skies like she did every evening while sitting on the windowsill as he undressed for sleep. He slid off his suspenders, his shoulders aching from the pressure they had burdened onto him during the day, and slid his shirt off his body. A cool wind blew into the room and he shivered, wishing the girl would close the window already. He walked up to her and rested his hands onto her shoulders.

Morning Dew leaned back against his chest; she loved the feel of his body. Shorter than most his age, small he seemed at first glance, but in truth, Spot Conlon was well-built. On the docks at noon when the Brooklyn boys did away with their shirts to enjoy a good swim, the sun would glisten on Spot's chiseled features, as if he were a roman gladiator carved from stone.

"Dewey, if somethin' were tah happen tah this place, would youse have a somewheah tah stay?" Spot knew of Mr. Scaparti's inability to keep up with the lodging house's rent but refused to reveal the dilemma to anyone just yet. He didn't want to cause chaos among the newsies when it surely wasn't necessary yet.

She turned to face him and looked at him confused. "I guess I could stay wid me bruddah, but why would anything happen tah this place." She laughed, pulling him down for a kiss. "Ya worry ovah the simplest things, babe."

After the words had been said, he leaned in for another kiss and deepened it before she could break away, leaning her back onto the windowsill as the embrace intensified. "Come tah bed," Spot whispered into her mouth.

She giggled. "But I aint tired yet."

"I'll make youse tired," he teased, planting kisses all over her neck, gently nipping at her skin.

"How 'bout we'se makes a deal?" She sat up and held his face in her hands to get his attention as long as she could entertain it, but the hungry look in his green-blue eyes told her he would be back at his flirtations in no time. "I'll come tah bed now if youse promise tah come wid me tomorrow tah visit me friend Cody."

Spot groaned but stole another kiss from her when her restraints loosened and licked his lips as if consuming the remainders of her taste. "Ya mean the same Cody ya use tah sell wid?" He weighed out his options. She wasn't really asking for that much. He supposed he could relent to her wishes this time around. "Fine, it's a deal."

"Great. Now gimme a chance tah change into me..." But Spot wasn't about to wait any longer. He hoisted the girl into the air and carried her in his arms to the bed at the center of the room that tempted them with its warmth and comfort.

~*~*~*~*~

As Spot had promised, he and Morning Dew were heading off to visit Cody at the hospital the following morning. Never until now did he realize just how seriously the girl took her good deeds.

At a vending cart she had purchased three croissants merely to distribute them to any homeless children they passed on their way to their destination. Once she had caught a young boy about to steal a pear from a fruit stand and had purchased the product for him with a humble smile, the boy looking at her as if charity was a thing he never had heard of. She helped an old woman recollect her fallen groceries at one point and just before they reached the hospital, she had offered to hold a mother's baby while the woman chased after her two-year old riotous son who had broken free from her grasp.

Spot felt more proud to be with the girl. It was her sweet personality that had attracted him to her in the first place, but just seeing her in high spirits like this made his own spirits rise. He suddenly felt ashamed for prohibiting her from dallying about doing good, but the feeling only lasted a second for he remembered it was merely for her safety that he had done so. Not everyone in the world was kind-hearted; there would always be people who would take advantage of those like Morning Dew.

The tiles of the hospital were so shiny Spot could peer down at one and see a glossy image of himself reflect back at him. He laced his fingers with those of Morning Dew's and followed her into a room, but they stopped short when they saw that the room was empty, its bed made up and the area freshly cleaned.

"Oops, wrong room," the girl laughed. They walked back into the hall and headed farther right yet Morning Dew paused when she recalled something. "Actually, his room numbah's 109, so it shoulda been there." A nurse happened to be passing then and she stopped the lady with a question. "Excuse me, miss. Could ya tell me wheah the boy Cody from room 109 is?"

The nurse had a grave expression on her face. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. Cody passed away in his sleep last night. The pneumonia had just grown too out of control."

Morning Dew's eyes glazed over; she forced a smiled. "There must be some kinda mistake. They's was checkin' up on 'im every day. They's were plannin' on releasing 'im. He, he looked fine! I'se talked tah him almost every day! He can't be...dead!" Her grip on Spot's hand tightened. All of a sudden, the world was shut off from her ears and the surroundings about her were spinning wildly like a carousel out of control.

"Dear, I'm so sorry. Our check-up's increased in number because we were debating how much time we could buy him with the medications we had. There was just nothing we could do anymore..."

"There's gotta be mistake," was all Morning Dew could say over and over again. She tried to move, but ended up collapsing into Spot's arms, who held her close and tight, telling her over and over again that it was okay. But it wasn't okay! He couldn't be dead! Cody, only fourteen, couldn't be dead!

It was as if the reality hit her at that moment for the sobs screamed from her lips in great pain and gripping onto Spot's shirt she shed tears of agony that fell to the polished floors without regret. Why was this happening? Why did Cody have to leave so early? Her knees gave out from under yet again and Spot decided it best to carry her in his arms. Her sobs turned to shrieking as she called out Cody's name until her vocal cords were sore, until her mind went blank and she passed out into utter depression.

~*~*~*~*~

The days which followed were hard ones indeed. Morning Dew remained in mourning; she would simply stay in Spot's room all day and not eat a bite or speak a word. She barely slept. Spot tried to get her back into the swing of things, had even suggested some good deeds they could do while out in the city. But she would only stare out the window and watch the passersby until night fell and her gaze lifted upwards to the stars.

To make matters worse, Mr. Scaparti was unable to work out a deal with the bank and would be forced to give up his property by the end of the month, which meant finding a home for 86 Brooklyn newsies within two and half weeks. It wasn't an easy task.

Then there was a particular morning that etched out a new path for the Brooklynites. It was a day in which Spot had finally managed to bring Morning Dew out of his room to the front stoop of the lodging house where he offered conversation to her but received no replies. A man dressed in a fine business suit strolled down the docks in predetermined strides and came before the couple with means to do what he had to do and leave as quickly as possible.

"Where may I find the manager of this house?" he asked.

Spot stood up and answered him. "He's out right now but I'se in charge meanwhile. What can I'se do fer youse?"

The man seemed reluctant at first but gave in anyhow. "I have a letter here from the St. John's hospital addressed to a Miss Rembrandt. Is she present?"

"That would be me," Morning Dew said then, her voice cracking for they were the first words she had uttered since Cody's death. The man presented the letter to her, bid her farewell, and went on his way. She looked at the envelope with pursed lips and ripped it open to see what contents it contained. There was a folded paper within; she gently took this out and opened it to see neat print written in blue ink ready to be read. She scanned over the words for a minute or so and then gasped.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, Spot! Gathah all the newsies 'round. They's gotta heah this!" Spot stood atop the stoop, whistled an ear-piercing screech that summoned his brood, and waited as they all crowded around Morning Dew to see what all the fuss was about. She waited until every last one was gathered before reading the letter aloud.

"Dear Dewey,

"This is Cody writing you; well to be honest, the hospital chaplain's actually writing this for me but that's beside the point. *Smiles* Dewey, I wanted you to know how much of a blessing you've been in my life. As I've said many times before, you were the only one of all the Brooklyn crew who cared enough to visit me in my time of need and for that I'm forever grateful.

"Unfortunately, the doctors have been telling me that my lungs are losing their strength and that eventually my time will have to come to be brave. I'm not sure whether I'm scared or not; I suppose the one thing that's keeping me alive is the love you've shown me all this time. I guess it's the only thing I'll miss when I'm gone.

"But let me be brief. I was perhaps selfish in complaining about my life as an orphan because my loneliness was solely brought on me when my parents passed away-by what means I don't know. I was only a child. But there was one thing I always kept secret from the newsies. When I would turn eighteen, I would inherit my father's fortune, and quite a fortune it is! The woman in charge of the orphanage was kind enough to deposit the money into a bank where it has since been accumulating interest. (The bank across from this hospital, as ironic as that is.)

"Seeing as I am to leave this world, nothing would make happier than to leave this money with you. You of all people deserve it most, Dewey, and I hope you will use it in the best way you seem fit. Don't grieve over me when I'm gone; I go to a better place. Perhaps I may even request to be your guardian angel.

"Always keep that unconditional love in your heart, Dewey, for it's something a world like ours needs more of. Thank you for it, and for your family. And know always that as I enjoy my new home, I wait for you.

Love Always, Cody Rembrandt."

The entire crowd was speechless. But the silence broke when Spot Conlon began to applaud and was followed by the rest of the newsies, who thereafter hollered and cheered Morning Dew for her kindness.

~*~*~*~*~

And so the Brooklyn newsies got to remain in rule of their borough after all. Mr. Scaparti was able to pay off every last dollar he owed the bank and was officially out of debt. He could never thank Morning Dew enough.

Morning Dew continued on with her charitable ways though. She donated a large amount of the money to local churches and organizations that assisted the poor and even took all 86 Brooklynites on a shopping rendezvous to better clothe them and provide their basic needs-though the whole mass didn't go all at one time naturally.

From then on, Spot realized why Morning Dew loved good deeds so much. It had nothing to do with obtaining monetary funds or rewards but rather had to do with the love one received from doing such things. The happiness it consumed one with, the joy that made life a great happening. It allowed everyone, whether living or gone, to live within you and enliven your spirit.

He smirked as he watched her talk to those stars of hers as if they were the closest companions she had ever known. He wouldn't be surprised if she had named each luminous body of light; he supposed one was called Cody. He sat down beside her and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered, "I love youse." She returned the statement of love with a gentle kiss and there they sat for the better part of the night.

~*~*~*~*~

'We must become the change we want to see in the world.' ~GHANDI

THE END @-}---