My father, the captain of our ship, the Dolphin handed me the binoculars after I had bugged him for them so long.

"You can see the harbor; it's right there." He had insisted, but I wanted a closer look. It had been a long trip this spring and I was excited to return home. Home to New York City.

When I peered through the binoculars, I was thrilled to see some newsies holding up the Tuesday papers. I hoped they were Manhattan newsies selling for the world. Even though Trey (or like his friends call him, Kid Blink) was my brother who I hadn't seen since the end of last winter, (we leave him in NY each year to sell and make some money for our return) he wasn't the one I was so excited to see. I was hoping to meet Mush on that harbor, the way I had when we returned from our last trip. He said that he always sold down at the harbor, but I liked to fantacize that he went down on my homecoming days to greet me.

* Either way, we pulled into the harbor and I swung off of the Dolphin. It was wonderful to be back on NY soil after so many homesick, seafaring nights. I crept away before my dad could make me help unload. I approached the newsies on the harbor. I flicked a coin at one, even though I couldn't see his face yet. He looked up as he handed me a paper. My heart felt like a yo-yo when I discovered it was Mush. His casual expression grew intense and surprised.

"Annie!" He exclaimed, elbowing the other newsie with him. I looked at this other newsie for the first time and even before he turned around I knew it was my brother, Blink. (man, it's too wierd calling your own brother by his nickname, so I'll call him Trey from now on if you don't care.) I knew it was him when I saw the string of his eyepatch on the back of his head.

Presently, he did spin around and he looked pleased but not surprised, because he knew we would be returning today.

"Of course you're not helping unload." was all he said. Not Hi. Not I missed you. Just that. Then he put out his cigarette and walked away to find our parents. I turned back to Mush. He put his hat back on and looked at me with those melting brown eyes.

"I forgot and took my hat off like you was a lady." he said. Then he spat into his hand and I spat into mine and we shook. None of the NY boys I knew treated me like a lady anymore. Especially not the newsies. They all treated me like a little brother. I always hung out with them when I didn't have to work. Sometimes I got to fight wimpy kids in their rumbles.

I had this special thing for Mush. I had spent a lot of time taking care of him after a chain gang tore him up last winter. This was the first time I'd seen him up and better since.

"You got older, you know?" He was saying, "You almost LOOK like a lady." This was as close to a compliment as Mush usually came.

"Oh!" I sighed sarcastically, and dropped the pape he had given me as a joke, like he would pick it up right away. Surprisingly he did. I could see a chain scar on his neck.

"Oh, Mush!" I said said sympathetically. "The chains scrapes didn't heal well?" He touched his neck tenderly as if they might have still hurt.

"Wanna see?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. It was a hot day for early summer, and his suspenders were already down. Before I could answer, his shirt was pulled up to his shoulders revealing his strong but screwed up back. There were bumpy lines where the chains had ripped through his skin. I touched each of them remembering how I had bandaged them in the lodginghouse when they couldn't afford a doctor. Hey, any excuse to touch Mush! He was obviously proud of the scars. I wickedly raised an eyebrow as I asked about the one across his chest.

"Didn't leave much." He answered, pulling up his shirt in front, showing me his tan chest and a fine white line where he had barely escaped a bad gash from a knife. Mush was known as a great fighter but he never fought. He went along with it when everybody else did, like in rumbles, but he never started it. If he was winning, he would just have his enemy say the word and walk away, rather than hit the poor kid any further.

"yeah you healed up ok. So how's the headline?" I asked, looking at the paper.

"We need a good assassination. We need an earthquake or a war. Say, you wanna get outta here before Blink and your folks make you help unload?" Oh, he was so sweet.

"Yeah!" I answered, "Here. Gimme some papes and I'll help you sell in the Bowery. I can't wait to see the old bowery boys!" I said. First he muttered something about bowery boys. then he said, "YOU"LL help ME, Cake?" Cake was what most of my NY friends called me. He only called me Annie when Trey was around. "Now don't forget who taught you."

It was a pretty long way to the Bowery. We caught a ride hiding on the back of a carriage part of the way, but we still had plenty of time to talk.

"So how was the passage?" He asked.

"Alright. Gets tedious toward the end," I answered and he smiled at me, that little baby smile.

"Didja miss me? I mean us, the newsies?" he asked.

"No way, I say good riddance." I answered, jokingly. I expected him to laugh. He didn't even smile.

"I wish I could get outta NY every spring and fall. Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between." He said, seriously. "With you."

He didn't really say "with you" but I knew that was what he was saying.

It was wierd. Like I heard him think it...

And it was something I always wanted to hear. Mush and I strode through the Bowery, past concert saloons, oyster houses, leather goods stored, grogshops, and dance halls filled with loud music and shrill laughter. It wasn't long before we noticed some Bowery boys by their uniform plug hat, black jacket, red flannel shirt, high-heeled boots, and trousers.

We chose a spot and I began yelling out the headlines in my innocent little poor-girl voice. I even took off my hat and shook my wavy, light brown hair around (not so much to make the passersby think I was pretty as to make Mush think so). What he had said had dizzied me.. I couldn't stop staring at him harking the headlines, today like yesterday and every other day. He always had to sell in this city, always, and he stayed dirt poor like the rest of the newsies. I was poor, but at least I got out sometimes.

At least I had a family.

I finished selling the half of the papers he's given me, and asked for some more as a group of Bowery guys approached us.

"Heya Mush." Said one, John Grimely. Then he turned to me.

"Now it can't be Blink's little sistah?" He asked, seemingly attempting to drink from his boot. He obviously had had too much to drink already.

"Call me Cake, Grimely." I said, half smiling. He flashed me a smirk as he pulled a flask from his pocket.

"Mush, whaddaya doin' sellin' in da Bowery? You know this ain't yo' whiskey." He said, staggering. Mush rolled his eyes.

"Tell ya what. We fight for it." John suggested.

"Grimely--" Mush began.

"Tomorrow. You and me and CAke and yo' newsies fight bowery newsies. It'll be royal. It'll be brutal. The ultimate rumble, baby." And with that, he staggered off, turning around to point at Mush and me in a warning.

I knew John Grimely never went back on something he said, even if he was drunk when he said it. I was confused. The bowery kids were usually the greatest friends.

"Mush, why his he...wh-"

"I'll explain him later. Let's go tell everybody. And tell 'em you're here."

So we did go back, and met all those familiar faces lounging around the statue of Greely. There was Race, Itey, Skittery, Pie Eater, Snoddy, Jack, Boots, Snipeshooter, and everybody. Nothing had apparently changed since I left at the end of last winter, except the weather.

"Cake? Long time no see, kid." Race said. He always had to call me kid. He slapped my hat down in front, over my eyes.

"Well, well, well." said Jack with a spitshake. Then he pulled off my hat and gave me a noogie. Jack was more of a big brother to me than even Trey was. He loved having a younger kid look up to him. I knew him better than most people did. I knew things about him like that his parents weren't really in Santa Fe like he told everyone. I knew that his mom had died of typhoid and his dad was a drunk and a criminal. Jack was probably bound to be a criminal when he was older too.

I ended up giving everyone a spitshake. Before long we got to talking about what happened in the Bowery.

"What do you say, Jack?" Mush asked.

"Yeah, Jack. Are we game?" Trey asked. Jack looked angry.

"Listen. You know it ain't just gonna be the bowery newsies. He'll bring the Bowery Boys into it and that's a gang. They ain't enough of us." He said.

"They's enough if we get Brooklyn." I said. I hadn't even seen Spot Conlon since I got back last fall. He didn't come around all winter and I'd been gone all spring. I wondered if he would recognize me.

"Cake, alot's happened since March." He began.

"You didn't get on Spot's bad side, didja?" I asked, disapprovingly.

"Cake--"

"Annie, please stay outta this." Trey interrupted. I fired a glare at him.

"You know that we could beat the whole bowery down with Brooklyn's help. Just let me talk to Spot. I'll convince him." Jack did some funny things with his mouth, then said: "you got 'till tomorrow. Get us Brooklyn and you can even fight if you want." I was pleased that he'd relented, but it was already evening now.

There was no time to lose. Especially when you're trying to talk to Spot.

Trey and Racetrack decided to come with me. Trey had this way of walking like had no idea where he meant to go, and no direction. His feet kicked up pebbles and his legs hung in the air, unsure of where to land. Racetrack and I walked side by side. He made his wisecracks like I'd seen him yesterday.

We came to the Brooklyn lodging house and found Spot with his other stony-faced, mean kids. They were playing dice for cigarettes. Spot was in the middle of a draw when he noticed us.

"Whadda we got heah?" He asked, walking toward Trey, blowing smoke in his face.

"Some o' Jack's buddies come down to play." He said in his usual tough-guy greeting.

"Spot!" I said. He hadn't even more than glanced at me until now. Spot cared little for anything but fights; he cared little for girls. Except of course, his precious Twyla Finlay, or as we all knew her, Key.

Key was always with him, always hanging around. Some said he took her around like that key he carried on his neck. That was why we called her Key. I looked at her now, sitting on the fountain. Her green eyes flashing as she messed with her long, dark braids. Spot looked at me when I said his name.

"Well if it ain't..." he didn't finish, though, just held out a spitty plam. We shook and it seemed like forever since my last spitshake with Spot Conlon.

"What brings you to Brooklyn, Cake, me girl?" he asked. I loved being called his girl. Key looked up now and came over to greet me. WE were great friends except I was jealous of her having Spot.

"We need help." I said. Spot seemed fairly unconcerned, his lovely eyes rolling. "We need all you Brooklyn boys to help us take on the Bowery." Trey and RAcetrack glanced at eachother uneasily.

"What problem I got with the Bowery, Cake?" Spot asked, shooting an imaginary rock at my head through the slingshot.

"We'll get killed withoutcha." I pleaded. I stepped closer to him and lowered my tone. "Please, Spot. You know they can't back out on this and they ain't enough or strong enough without you." His eyes flicked down at me and he closed his mouth.

"Well, I guess your problem is my problem. I probably owe you one anyway." he said, turning. And with his powerful air, he strolled away, saying, "Tomorrow. Rumble. Brooklyn and Manhattan take on the Bowery." I smiled at Key as TREy pulled at my arm.

"Seeya boys." Race said, waving his hat as we worked our way back through the gaslit city. What a first day back...

I woke up the next morning in my damp floor mattress of a bed. I stared out my window listening to those familiar sounds of the street 5 stories below. I'd truly missed those sounds, but I knew that before the summer was out, I'd be missing the sounds of water and sea air. How I wanted to wallow in my small bed and never get up, but it was already time to get to work.

I put on my hat and my only other set of clothes. I grabbed a slice of stale, leftover bread from the ship and ate it as I left the small apartment with my mother. We passed Trey and the other newsies going to work on our way to the little Taylor shop on the corner where we sewed and cut and measured all day for a dollar each.

All day I was nervous about what might happen at the fight tonight. The working hours passed and I hurried off to find the newsies. I ran into them at Tibby's eating lunch. They were all putting their pennies together from their morning earnings, trying to pay for the meal.

"Cake!" Mush said with a smile, patting me on the back. I tossed a couple coins to the money pile and they all thanked me.

"You showin' up at the fight this evenin;?" Race asked me.

"I'll be there, but I'd better not fight. After all, it has been a while." I answered, indifferently brushing back my hair. It would be better this way, so Crutchy wouldn't be the only one not fighting.

They all got psyched up for the fight all the rest of the day. It grew dark, and before I knew it,I was walking at the back of a group, a gang if you will, of boys, nervously making their way to the Bowery.

What we met in the Bowery was only what could have been expected. The uniformed Bowery Boys themselves, plus all of the bowery newsies. Some of them carried brass knuckles and clubs. Inspite of myself, my heart was pounding. I'd see scenes like this before. Boys bravely meeting in an alley. MOst of them would leave badly hurt. Rumbles were like that, strangely. Hee hee.

There was GRimely, of course, a newsie and the leader of the Bowery Boys. He was nervously curling up his hands, his army behind him.

"Last chance to back out, Kelley." he warned. I looked from my brother to Mush to Jack. Their faces were intense and angry. Especially Mush's. I really loved him right then. Suddenly Jack looked around. Something was wrong. Where was Brooklyn?

"No way, Grimely." Jack said worriedly, "We're fighting." He licked his lips and glanced around. "That is unless of course YOU ain't up for it." Grimely tightened his jaw.

I noticed something behind a trashcan. It moved. Suddenly, I realized it was a person. A light head popped out and it was Spot. He looked at me with this huge smile and winked a bright blue eye. I smiled back, relieved.

"Soak 'em!" Grimely called, and the Bowery Boys came forth, meeting a charge from our side. I saw flashes of lamplit combat. Mush took a blow from a club in the stomach. Grimely's face got punched in. Trey got hit with the end of a chain.

"Never feah, Brooklyn is heah." Spot's legendary line rang out. Brooklyn boys (and girls) streamed out of every hiding place, attacking Bowery Boys right and left. I noticed Key, her fists flying. This made me feel like I should have been fighting so when I saw that she was in trouble, I jumped into the action, pulling a guy away from her and sending him to the ground with a knee in never, neverland.

She responded with a spitshake and a smile. GOod to be home.

If I think of it now, I can remember hearing a lady scream somewhere not too far away, but definitely not because of the fight. I didn't think much of it until the cops showed up down the street because the lady had apparently called them. It wasn't long before the metropolitans were breaking up the fight. Of course everybody ran right away and the sight of their horses, but they had to pull a few individuals apart, including Trey.

"Wait!" The screaming lady cried when she saw trey. "That's HIM!" she yelled, pointing. He looked around, terrified. "That's the one who was in my house! He stole my silver!"

"NO! He's been here all along!" I yelled among other protestations.

"Come with me, young man." A bearded metropolitan said, ignoring us and pulling Trey onto his horse. I felt tears push into my eyes as I saw my innocent brother ride off. I looked around to find only more sad images. Mush, bleeding from the nose and the ear, and with the whole side of his face swollen. He tried to stand and call after Trey but only stumbled around, bending to one side. I saw Spot. He looked worst. He was awake but he wasn't even moving. All gashed up and a line of blood through his blond hair. I couldn't see anything else, now. Tears were streaming down my face and filling my eyes, blurring everything. I was so dizzy...

I remember thinking I would go and help Mush, but I woke up to find him standing over me.

"You passed out." he said, simply. I realized that sometime during the fight I had been hit in the back of the head, but not even noticed, or remembered because I had been so excited and things had gone so quickly. There was a sharp pain where I had been hit.

Looking around I realized that nobody had been seriously hurt except Spot. Just a few bruises. After all, the rumble couldn't have been very long. But Spot was still hurt. He tried to walk but his right leg collapsed like his was dead.

"We better get down to the courthouse and see about your brother." Mush said to me, "Tell them what really happened." I thought somewhat wickedly of telling him to take off his shirt and use it as a bandage, but this was no time for flirting.

"Fat chance the court listens to us." I said. We all knew that a testimony by a bunch of baby gangsters like ourselves wouldn't even get a second thought.

"Still." Mush answered. So all the Manhattan newsies got up and, in a small group, walked to the courthouse. Nobody was there, so we walked past the jail to see if they had stuck Trey in there.

There he was, leaning his forearms out of the steel bars, his head hanging low.

"What's up, Kid?" Racetrack asked, trying to sound not too worried.

"This lady says I robbed 'er house. I might not even get a trial." Trey answered. He sounded like he might cry. I felt like crying too. Deep down I knew there was no chance of him getting out of jail. That rich, corrupt, old judge wouldn't even consider listening to us or my parents for that matter. Not when he had the word of that rich lady who got robbed and the bribe money of everyone else who wanted Trey locked up.

I looked at Jack, and he of all people knew what I was thinking was true. Probably old Snyder would pay what he could to get another kid in the refuge.

"Well we gotta do something..." Mush said, shaking his head. I sensed a riot coming on.

"Well let's go, boys." Jack said. "Let's go come up with something."

Everyone began turning around, and I stepped close to Trey's cage.

"Trey, I don't know how to get you out of here, but we'll think of something. you know Jack can always think of something." He looked up and I saw that he really was crying. I was surprised.

"Trey! Don't worry. At least you don't have to work while you're in here." I tried to joke. It only made things sadder because none of my jokes were ever funny.

All the next day, my parents spent going to court, arguing Trey's innocence, without any effect, they squabbled to the judge with powerless words. As would be expected from Jack, he didn't hold anything back. There was a full blown riot outside the courthouse. All the newsies made signs and shouted and got kicked out by metropolitans on horses. I stayed aloof from all of this, because, as I had expected, we were powerless. (these were the days before the strike, you see, when newsies were 'a ragged army')

Before the week was out, I had given up on my brother. Nobody said that they'd given up on him, not out loud, but we all knew we would just have to wait. Wait a year for him to be released.

The rumble had been such a bad, bad thing. I visited Trey every day, and we never talked together so much before this. It wasn't entirely bad. I never knew he had a brain before. One night I went to his "cage" as I called it. WE started to talk.

"Hey, Annie." He said.

"Hi Trey."

"Do you mind me calling you Annie?" I shrugged.

"Not really."

"That's good." He looked so sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh I just was thinking. What's going to happen this fall? When mom and dad need me on the Dolphin? I mean what happens then?" I hadn't thought of that at all. My parents needed him to help on fall trips. They were harder than spring trips and we couldn't do it without him. We rambled on for hours that night. I never knew how cool my brother was until now.

The rumble had caused other problems too. Such as (and I know all you freaks wanta know) what happened to Spot. His right leg was broken-- in two places. He couldn't stand. He also had some infection from a cut. After talking to Trey that night, I went to the Brooklyn lodginghouse since I'd come all the way to the courthouse anyway.

I found Key there, sitting by Spot and rewrapping his homemade cast. This was a familiar setting. It was how I spent every at the end of last winter, except with Mush and his chainscrapes. The orange light of a lodginghouse, the feeling of the bed, and that worried tension you always felt all came back to me instantly. This summer wasn't turning out to be the great reuinion I'd expected. I almost wanted to leave NY right away, and not wait until fall. I wanted to leave and never ever come back. Things were just too sad...

After a few days, I just got used to the fact that bad things happen and people deal with it. My brother was in jail, but it didn't turn out to be so hard on everyone. I was getting to know him all over again when I visited him.

The next day, I was at work, sewing the rim of a butternut brown tophat, when a knock came on the glass window outlooking the street beside me. I looked up, startled. It was Mush. My stomach rolled into a knot. He was motioning for me to come outside. I put down the hat and walked out to him.

"Here." He said, handing me $5.

"What?!" I asked.

"You need it, ok? I know that w/o Blink, your family ain't got 'nything." He was so sweet, but how could he afford this?

"YOU need it. You don't even have a family. I mean, we got 3 workers." I said.

"You got 7 people to feed, Cake. And your dad's gone 'till fall, tell me if I'm wrong, so he hardly counts." We did have 7, counting my baby twin sisters and my grandmother who took care of them every day.

"Mush-" I began.

"Listen. What time d'you get outta here?" He asked, pointing to the shop.

"1:00." I answered.

"That's fine. People'll but till like 5:00, so you can help me sell extra papes and we'll split it, plus you take this five bucks right now."

"But-"

"Hey, you can't tell me I don't owe you for taking care of me last winter." He said in his little baby voice. I don't know why...maybe it was the relief of an extra $5 in case we needed it, maybe it was that he'd remembered what I did for him last winter, but I just threw my arms around him. Anyway, I let go and he seemed embarrassed, not looking up again before he awkwardly waved and walked away in his bouncy walk.

I felt like something was pulling me after him by the heart, and by the tears I hadn't yet cried.

Excited about selling with him, I impatiently stitched until 1:00. I left, punching out at the exact second, not waiting for mom or finishing the order I was on. I found Mush and everybody else hanging out at the statue of Greely.

"Heya Cake. Whaddaya say we go down to da harbor?" Mush asked, picking up a stack of papes, after everybody gave me the usual greeting. So we went.

Even on bad selling days, the harbor was so interesting. All of the different people passing though New York, I can't even begin to describe. Mush had an adorable face and a smile that could melt you, but I still say it takes a girl. It takes a sweet-looking, innocent, sad girl to sell a pape. I went through his whole stack in half an hour and he sold, oh, about five.

He shook his head disapprovingly muttering, "it's not fair." when I sold the last pape and looked at him wryly. We divied up and, surprisingly even to myself, I hugged him again.

"Wanna go see TREy, then see Spot, Key, and all them Brooklyn scaps?" I asked. He shrugged carelessly.

"Yeah, sure." So we saw Trey, and spent a while conversation NOT mentioning that Mush was giving me money in his place. Then we said goodbye to him and went to the Brooklyn lodginghouse the way I had done more than often lately.

We walked in, and found all of them at a heated poker game. I laughed.

"Hey you'se gget outta heah!" One called. I glared at him, my glare that would have gone well with a hiss.

"She stays." Spot piped, quickly. "Mush can, too." He called from his bed where I saw him sitting up for the first time in days. Key, the only girl they usually let in their lodginghouse, was there, too, attempting to sew a broken sleeve back onto her dress. As a seemstress, I shook my head. All wrong.

Spot motioned Mush over to him like a dog. "Here, puppy." I thought. Mush walked over to him and Spot whispered something into his ear, and Mush nodded.

"Say, Key, can I talk to you?" he asked. "Outside, I mean." Key looked from Spot to him, just about as confused as I was, then shrugged and followed him outside.

"Cake, C'm'ere." Spot said to me, doing his little hand motion. here, puppy. I went to his bed and sat by him.

"Will you do me a...a favor, I guess.?" He asked. I couldn't get over those eyes. Those blase, cynical, gorgeous, sapphire eyes, flicking indifferently over everything.

"yeah, I'll do you a favor, what is it?" I sighed, staring at them.

"Ok. There's this jeweler shop in Manhattan, and I know the guy. I know he can ingrave stuff." Spot pulled from his pocket a small copper locket in the shape of an oval. "Can you take this to 'im, and ask if he'll ingrave a moon and a star on one side, and a little key on the other? A key like this." He said, holding out his key. I was confused. What did he want that for? Where did he get the locket?

Spot leaned closer to me and spoke in a lower tone. "For Key, Cake. I need to get her something as a thankyou, you know for ttaking care of my leg."

Oh, so that was why he had Mush take her outside. How sweet could a guy get? I was never more jealous of Key than at that moment.

Spot was putting a crumpled $10 into my hand.

"Give the jeweler this. Tell me if it ain't enough." I was thinking, Oh I know that jeweler; my taylor shop is right by it. Spot is soooo sweet. Where did he get ten bucks? But I realized I was saying it all out loud. I was kind of mumbling. I was in a daze looking at those glittery eyes against his olive skin.

"Where'd I get it? I been savin' some. I sold the old cane to a pawn shop for $2, and the rest I won. Listen, Cake, can you just do this?" He asked.

Spot had actually sold the cane? The cane was...well it was The Cane! I melted. Key was so lucky. She didn't even know...

On the way back, Mush was trying to tell me something, but I was too busy admiring the locket. It was splendid. It was obviously very old, and probably Spot's only real possession, but it was still brilliantly shining and it was intricately designed.

All the way back to Manhattan, Mush kept hinting at something, but I didn't think of it much because I was barely listening. It was around seven o'clock when we got back to town and I was happy to find the jewelery shop still opened. Hettery's, it was called.

Mush walked in with me and we began talking to the jeweler. Hettery, he was called.

"So can we get this engraved?" I asked Hettery, who was staring at me blankly.

"$15." He answered. Spot had only given me ten. Oh it was all he had in the whole world, and he was so sweet to be spending it on Key. "Tell me if it's not enough," he had said, but how could I? Then I remembered him telling me he knew the guy.. Maybe they were friends and Hettery would make an exception.

"It's for Spot. Spot Conlon. Please- he's hurt." I begged, putting on my paper-selling sad face.

"Who?" He answered, snatching the locket from me and examining it. "I don't know no...Spot what you say Collins..." I sighed and pulled the $5 Mush had given me out of my pocket. So much for five bucks to fall back on.

I pretended to remember that Spot had given me this, too, so Mush wouldn't think I was wasting his money.

"Fifteen does it." Hettery said, gruffly and briskly. "Come back Wednesday."

Well, Mush and I sold extra together every afternoon and we each made pretty much extra money. Well not extra, but more than usual. My family seemed to be scraping by alright, and Wednesday rolled around uneventfully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After work Wednesday morning, I stopped in Hettery's.

"Hi. I had an order on a locket." I began. Hettery looked up. He was dressed in a nice suit with a bow tie and a grimy apron over it. He had messy grey sideburns and an unshaven face.

"That ODD one with the key and all?" He asked, hoarsly.

"Yeah, is it ready?" I asked.

"Surely. Wasn't much of a task. Is this what you wanted? Better be or else your antique locket here is ruined." He chuckled odiously. He was leaning over the glass counter to hold it out to me. I took it and peered at it.

The one side had the delicate shape of a crescent moon impressed upon it and beside the moon was a perfect little star. I flipped it over, and there was a flawless ingraving of a key. Spot's key. Oh, I wished I could keep it, and always remember Spot by it. I didn't know what the moon and star meant...but I was sure it was something very lovely between Spot and Key.

That night I decided to go to Trey and Brooklyn without Mush. Jack wanted to come for some reason, so he did. We came up to Trey's barred window, and whispered in. He had already seen us and was walking up to the window already.

"It's official, Annie. I'm in for a year. I don't get out until THIS TIME next year." I had only expected this, so it wasn't a shock. He seemed stricken by the news, so I guess he must have had some hope.

"Blink, you don't worry about it. We'll break you out same as always." Jack tried to make things look better, but he was surprised much either.

Usually kids were temporarily kept in the real jail, but never served their full term in jail. That was the way it had been with Jack.

I thought then of Jack. He really never seemed to have much hope. He accepted and expected that he was stuck and never thought a kid could have any rights. He would try with his rallies and whatnot, but he always seemed to know he was beaten.

"We was beat when we was born." He used to tell kids. (this, remember was before even the strike. Before Dave ever inspired him to stand up for his rights as a person and not just another poor orphan on the streets of New York.)

"I ain't going to the refuge, Cowboy. I'm in here. A year in jail, not the refuge." This surprised me. This was scary. Before I'd just thought oh, the refuge is not so bad. He'll break out, or he'll just relax for a year...he'd be hungry though, since Snyder doesn't feed them right. But jail was a different thing. A year was a year, and a long one for Trey. AFter saying comforting thing to him that I didn't even believe, we left and go on our way to Brooklyn.

"You been doin' this ev'ry day, Cake?" Jack asked.

"Almost." I answered.

"Long way for a girl, ain't it?" he asked, "even you." he added. Ooh I liked the way he always made me out to be so special.

" 'Ey, Jack." I said, in a little warning. He just laughed as we walking into the Brooklyn lodginghouse. It was pretty late. We'd walked slowly. All the tough guys were in their pajamas. I llaughed my way over to Spot.

"Hiya Spot...you needed something?" I asked, slipping the locket into his hands. I really didn't want to do it. I didn't catch what he did with it, but he made it disappear pretty quickly.

"Well we bettah go, it'll be too late when we get back and we'll be caught." I said.

"Too late already. Why don'tcha stay heah?" Spot said. I was delighted. I would get to spend the night in Brooklyn like Boots and Jack always bragged about!

I woke up the next morning to the unfamiliar Brooklyn smell of smoke and river water. THe boys were pulling up their suspenders, shaving, and washing in a tired daze. With a glance at Key I saw that Spot had given her the locket. She came over to me to show it off. She had that smile girls get when they're excited about a guy.

"Cake! Look." She sighed, She opened it and I saw Spot had put both of their black and white pictures into the locket. "It's from Spot. Look at the Key, and the Moon and stars for ." I nodded and smiled, not sure if I should tell her that I knew.

I would be late for work today, but I still went slowly back to Manhattan with Jack. Slowly because he had bought papes from the Brooklyn distribution center and was cordially selling them as we walked.

"I should let you do this, huh?" he joked. "They'd sell quicker." I didn't answer. I was too busy thinking.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes squinting up.

"Jealous o' Key." I honestly said. "And what's going to happen about Trey?" I added. "And I think Mush wanted to tell me something before but I didn't even listen. What could it have been?" I paused a second. "And worried about Spot. His infection is bad. His leg will heal alright, but he's sick, Jack." I could have gone on and on.

"Cake, cake!" He interrupted. "C'm'on, Cake. You gotta roll wid it. I can't tell ya thing's ain't bad...'cause they are. But the truth of it is, fer us, they ain't gettin' any betta." THat was what Jack said to me.

I remember it like I remember a song. Like I remember everything he said to me. Jack didn't need any schoolbooks to sound smart. Give him anything to say, however dumb you think it is, and just let him SAY it. He had a voice you could hear, not only words to say. Along with the famous:

"Headline's don't sell papes; newsies sell papes." was "you just gotta roll wid' it." I forever looked up to him and lived by his words like he was Jesus. (Little did I know!) (Echo: lol, so I'm guessing you heard about Mary, Mother of Jesus on NBC... man, Christian playing Jesus, talk about weird. :) )

So for the rest of the summer, things came up. My grandma died, leaving us with the grief of her death and my two little sisters to take care of every day. Trey got in trouble for us coming by every night and got moved to a windowless cell where nobody would see him. Spot's leg remained useless for over a month. Even more, worse rumbles were fought. I hit and it hurt, but I rolled with it.

I rolled with it and just spent my days, laid back, hanging out with the Manhattan newsies, barely ever going home. We would have our little adventures, our heated card games, our angry fist-fights, all the while drawing from the cigarette we held loosly between our lips. We'd have races, play poker stolen candles or busted pocket-watches, showing off the stolen things, and just acted like little street rats. That was what it was like, being a poor kid in a big world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up. Tears from last night still wet my pillow in the lodginghouse (where I had made a habit of sleeping lately) I was sure to stay there last night, my last night in New York before I returned for the awful winter.

I hated to leave in the fall; to miss that brisk, cold air you could just smell winter in. To miss the fiery leaves falling and creating postcard scenes everywhere you looked.

More than that, I hated leaving my friends. Summer, my time with them, was shorter every year than the one before. We would leave late this evening, out of the harbor to take a hold of horses, mail, and passengers to Port Challumbry. I would miss the city and the dirty streets, and the sounds, and being a street rat.

Oh, how I would miss the newsies. I'd miss them all. I knew that by the time I returned, things would be different. Every year there were some newsies I lost, and never saw again. I dreaded the day I'd return and it would be Mush...or Jack...or Spot... or Race who would be gone. Great, I was crying again. I got up.

I was already packed and my bags were by my bed. I hoped everyone would remember me. I hoped. I absently went selling that morning with Jack and Mush. I looked around, trying to soak everything into me. Trash by the corner. Trash I would miss! We passed a little bootleg pawn shop, and soaking it all in, I soaked in a little gold-topped cane.

"SPOT'S CANE!!!" I realized and screamed at the same time. I pulled Jack around a corner, into an alley. Mush was peering in at the cane.

"You got any money?" I asked.

"Me?" Jack asked cynically. I rolled my eyes.

"We gotta get Spot's cane back to him." I whined. Jack shrugged.

"No problem, Cake. Just take it." he answered. I went back onto the busy street with him following, and grabbed Mush.

"You take the cane. I stand in front of you on this side of the glass and he'll cover you inside." I told him, taking my post in front of the cane in the window so nobody would see Mush steal the cane from the street.

Jack and he went into the pawn shop and came running out after a few minutes. We all laughed as we ran from the shop owner. Mush's laugh was soooo cute.

** **

After we finished selling, we ate at Tibby's and then I had to go help load up the ship and meet my father. Now, my dad hadn't even heard of Trey being in jail until now, since he had been gone on the ship and we couldn't reach him by mail. For some reason, Mush had come with me to the harbor. There was the dreaded yet beautiful Dolphin, and there was my dad, unchanged, obviously outraged by the news my mother had just told him.

"We can't DO this route without Trey's help!" He was saying.

"Sir-" Mush spoke up. I spun around to face him. "Sir, you really wouldn't need to pay me or nothing." Mush was using his baby, little-boyish, cracking voice. "But I could come aboard in Kid...I mean Trey's place and help out." My dad frowned.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"This is my friend, Mush." I said, excited about his idea. "He's also Trey's friend." I added.

"You know anything about ships?" Mush shook his head.

"I'll learn." After sighing and frowning, and muttering, and much adeu about nothing, Dad agreed to the idea. I overflowed. Just think! An entire fall on the Dolpin with Mush! We would only have time together, us and the open sea. It was the best thing to happen out of the worst of circumstances. Mush was coming with me, instead of Trey.. It was decided!

Well we loaded, and loaded more, and every time I saw Mush I smiled with a new excitement, looking into those twinkly brown eyes. Eyes I would never lose...well no time soon.

By the time we finished loading, all the newsies I knew were gathered at the harbor. They apparently all already knew about Mush's "surprise" idea. I was so happy they came to see us off.

Why would Mush give up this magical city when he could have stayed? Why would he leave all of his friends when he had a choice? For me? Yes, that's what he told me later. I loved him. It didn't take much to know that. It would be great the things that had only to happen between us, sailing on this ship. I would teach him about ships and talk to him on those starry, rocking nights.

I hugged Jack, never wanting to let go. There were too many memories to let go of if I let go of him. I cried all over him. "God, Jack. I'll miss you. Don't disappear...be here when I get back." I looked up at him. "I hate to go..." I was all whiny and broken. Why did they make me go? I hugged Racetrack, and wanted them all to come.

We got on the ship after my parents, Mush and I, off of New York soil for three months with nothing by the vast sea and eachother. I saw Spot and Key waving. The harbor was very crowded around them. I remembered and tossed Spot the cane. He was delighted! He shook it in the air shouting, "Brooklyn!" Then put it through his belt loop like sheathing a sword. I leaned far over the deck to give him one last spitshake. With a tip of his hat, I was burst into tears again.

I knew things would never be the same. I would come back next winter to a different place. Many years I returned and things were only slightly different, but not this year. My slingshot, thieving, newspaper-selling life as a newsie girl would never be the same.

It didn't matter though, about the future. All that would matter to me on those cold, sea board nights were the memories I could think back to. The good times that made us laugh, and the bad times we laughed through too. With Mush by my side and the newsies in my heart, I sailed away. "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday...

(Echo: *sniff sniff* Awwww, that's so sad. I think I'm gonna cry....)

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Brooklyn and Echo's Newsie Junk