FicWad

Chapter One: Bring Me to Life

“Ah, f*ck it,” Spot Conlon said, angry. He was messing around with his slingshot, which he usually did perfectly without fault, but this morning he couldn't hit a damn thing.
He sighed, tucked his slingshot into his pocket, and walked back toward the Brooklyn Newsboy Lodging house. Spot was the infamous leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He was small and rather scrawny for a 15 year-old boy, but he was intimidating in the way that he was fearless.
If anyone found out his past, or his fears, he would be ruined forever.
He was scared of a lot of things-death, his dad finding him again, etc. But the thing that scared him most?
Falling in love.
The very thought of love-he shuddered at the word, even though he was only thinking it-scared the living crap out of him. He was a leader. Falling in love would ruin everything he worked so hard for. He would end up like his dad-going insane because his wife cheated on him and left him, That's all women do, Spot said to himself, Lie and cheat and deceive.
And then he saw her.
As he passed Scratch-the local “gentleman's club” that Spot and his friends had been to many times-he saw a girl, about his age-maybe younger-being pulled into an alleyway by a dark figure. Acting against impulse, he ran towards the alley.
The girl was breathtakingly beautiful-her curly black hair framed her heart-shaped face like a frame on a painting, her skin was pale and her cheeks rosy. But it was her eyes that captured Spot. They were a strange-and somewhat sexy-violet color.
The man, a tall burly middle-aged guy, was slurring his words towards the girl, obviously trying to persuade her to go home with him.
“C'mon, baby,” he said, leaning against the brick building to his left, “I can make yous into the biggest vaudeville stah there is today!”
“Excuse me sir, but I's best be gettin' home,” the girl said, clearly trying to get away from the intimidatingly tall fat man.
“I said c'mon, dollface!” He grabbed her wrists forcefully.
“Ow, your hur-ting me!” She said, struggling with her words.
“She said no,” Spot said, taking out his cane and using it as a walking stick as he sauntered towards them.
“Stay outta this, man..” the guy said, warning Spot.
“Oh, I'm shaking!” Spot said, dripping with sarcasm.
The man lunged towards Spot, but he quickly moved out of the way and the man was sent falling into a pile of garbage. The girl let out a light laugh, covering her mouth in faux-shock.
Spot turned his attention to the girl. Their eyes met for a brief moment, each staring at each other like they were reborn. The girl-he couldn't stop looking at her. Her eyes were haunting. He wanted to talk, but he couldn't find the right words to say.
The girl's face turned from happiness to fear.
“Look out!” She shrieked.
Spot turned around, the man now up and running towards him, fist in the air. Spot chuckled as he pulled out his slingshot and hit him square in the nose.
“I'se thinking you bests be gettin' outta here.”
The man looked as though he were contemplating this offer, before he sighed and started to walk away, realizing his attempts were futile.
Spot turned around. “What's your name?” He asked, dying to know.
A sly smile crept across her face. “What's it to ya?”
“Just wanna know what I can call you,” he said, looking at his feet.
C'mon, Spot! You can handle her. She's just a girl. Probably a good lay too. That's all she'll be.
But deep inside, Spot knew she would be more.
She giggled softly into her palm, sensing his nervousness.
“Rosalie Hearst, at your service,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake.
He took her hand, kissing the front, much to her surprise.
She looked at him in disbelief. “I saw a richie do that once. And since you'se a Hearst..”
Rosalie loved the way he said “Hearst” like “Hoist.” It was absolutely charming.
No, Rosalie told herself, You're not going to fall for him. Not after what a prick John was. He'll cheat on you, lie to your face, try to get into your pants, cuz that's all they wa-
“So,” Spot said, obviously trying to break the tension, “what's a rich bitch like yous doin' out so late at nite?”
Rosalie gasped. “You did not just call me a bitch, you f*cking prick!”
Spot put his hands up, like he was admitting defeat, “Hey now! Just sayin'...”
“Ugh,” Rosalie scoffed.
“You never answered my question,” Spot said, blushing. Or was that just the cold? Either way, it was adorable. He looked like a lost little kid who ventured into more than he could handle.
“I'm running away,” Rosalie said matter-of-factly.
Spot just laughed.
“What's so funny?” Rosalie stomped her foot, angered with the seemingly bipolar, arrogant, gorgeous, hilarious...
NO ROSALIE! Sirens exploded into her head.
“A richie like yous? What's so bad 'bout havin' a roof ova your head an' bein' able to not woik if yous don't gotta?”
“It's like a cage, sir.”
Spot chuckled. “Sir?”
“Well, what do you want to be called?” He was starting to piss her off.
“Spot. Just Spot.”
“Okay then, Spot,” she rolled her eyes, “You have to do the same thing every. Single. Day. No exceptions. Try to go outside the barrier? Don't even think about it. You get locked in your room until you 'realize the consequences of your actions'”-she made her voice snooty and rigid, sounding a bit like her mother- “and you have an arranged marriage. Fall in love? Then it's too f*cking bad, because they don't care.”
Spot was silent for a minute.
He had always thought that being rich would benefit anyone. Make them happy.
“I always thought it wud be easy ta be rich.”
“Well, it's not.” Rosalie's violet eyes softened, turning slightly lavender.
“Hey, yous gotta place ta stay?” Spot offered.
She looked around. “No.”
“Come stay wit me and the odda newsies. We's not gonna try anyt'ing, okay?”
She nodded, clearly shocked.
Spot looked at her and flashed his infamous smirk.
“Let's get going then.”