⊱ ────── {⋅. ♡ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"I don't want it. Get rid of it any way you can."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, ma'am. If we do that procedure, you could die."

...

"Fine..."

~~~

Asticot didn't have a good life. She didn't even have an okay life, but she pushed through with a smile. Her mother, having been unable to abort her, had thrown her out into a plie of garbage far from her house. Asticot had nothing except a note saying "This is Asticot". That was all she had ever gotten from her mother. Her name. Magot. She didn't even get any clothes or a blanket. Little Asticot would have died, if not for a passerby who took her and dropped her off at the orphanage.

Life at the orphanage was tough. Asticot was smaller than the other girls her age, so she got picked on, and her name didn't help anything either. Once they found out her name meant "magot", they began calling her that. At only age seven, she had become depressed. She didn't have a single friend. She would cry herself to sleep often, as she shivered from the cold of the dank orphanage. She thought of running away. She thought of going to a far off place, never to return.

One night, Asticot decided she had had enough. The now fourteen-year-old tore off into the night. She ran as far as she could before she had to stop to catch her breath. It was dark, and Asticot couldn't see well, even with the street lamps. Once she had caught her breath, she slowly continued down the street. She didn't have a clue where she was going, but she had to get away from that place. Away from all the depressing memories. She was on the verge of tears, when suddenly, she heard a soft thud from behind her. She turned around to see a boy around her age standing there.

"What are you'se doin' out so late, miss?" he asked. Asticot blinked back the tears in her eyes.

"I don't reckon that's any of your business," she sassed. The boy held his hands up in defense.

"Sorry for tryin' ta help ya," he said, "It's just really dangerous out hea' when it's dark."

"And yet, you're out here."

"You'se obviously don't know who I am, do ya?"

Asticot shook her head.

"I'se Spot Conlon, leada' of da Brooklyn newsies." he said.

"And I'm supposed to care because...?"

"I can protect ya. Boys 'round here fea' me."

"Fear you?" Asticot gave a laugh, "You don't look very intimidating."

Spot darted in front of her, as if he was going to attack her. She froze in fear.

"Not intimidating?" he said, through his teeth. Asticot gulped, unable to say anything. Spot backed off, "That's what I thought."

"That wasn't nice." Asticot huffed.

"Yea', and?" Spot responded. Asticot rolled her eyes, and he continued, "So, does ya want my help 'er not?"

"Fine," Asticot sighed.

"Dat's what I'se thought."

"So, I'se neva' got a name fo' dat pretty face o' yours," Spot said as they began walking down the street.

"Asticot."

"Gesundheit." Spot joked. She glared at him.

"That's really not funny."

"Okay, okay. Yeesh," he said, "So, Asticot, where're you goin' ta?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Why? Brooklyn's great!"

"Not what I've experienced..." Asticot replied, a tear forming in her eye. Spot noticed and changed the subject.

"So, 'Hatten?"

"Yeah, Manhattan's fine," she said, "Anywhere but here..."

"M'kay, ma'am."

Asticot's eyes glittered as they walked over the Brooklyn Bridge.

"It's beautiful!" she said in awe. Spot looked at the view.

"Yea', I s'pose it is."

"You don't sound very impressed."

"I guess it just loses it's magic, or whateva', afta' seen' it a million times." Spot replied. Asticot nodded in understanding.

"So, you'se runnin' away from ya folks?" Spot questioned once they were a good bit into Manhattan.

"No." Asticot answered, "I don't have any folks. At least not any that want me..." she spat. Spot nodded, knowing how that felt.

"Well, you'se got a plan fo' when ya get ta where you'se goin'?"

Asticot froze. She hadn't thought past getting out of Brooklyn. Spot noticed the look on her face, as she stood frozen.

"Ya know what? I think I'se know a good place for you'se ta stay. They'll take good care of ya." Spot said as they approached said place. He didn't think she knew where she was going from his first look at her, so he had planned on coming here from the beginning.

"Lodging house," Asticot read the words on the building, "Like a newsboy lodging house?"

Spot nodded then walked in the door. Asticot followed.

Inside the lodging house, it was chaotic. There were kids and teens running all over, doing all sorts of things. But as soon as one newsie noticed the "King of Brooklyn", word spread quick, and a silence fell among the kids. An older boy walked up to the duo.

"Aye, Spot," he greeted.

"Heya, Jackie-boy," Spot replied, "I'se got dis goil hea', and she don't have any folks, so I need ya ta take care a her fo' me."

"Alright, but she's gonna have ta wor-"

The older boy was cut off by another boy bounding over.

"Well ,well," he said, looking at Asticot, "What is such a beautiful face doin' hea'?"

Asticot blushed.

"Certainly you'se ain't hea' with him," the boy added, gesturing to Spot.

"Anyways," the older boy pushed the other away, "You'se welcome to stay here, miss."

"Thank you so much!" Asticot beamed. She had been shown more kindness in this one night than in her entire life.

"I'm Jack," he said, "And this is-"

"Racetrack Higgins," the other boy said, taking Asticot's hand and kissing the back of it, "At your service."

Asticot blushed yet again.

"We'll take good care of ya, miss," Jack smiled. She smiled back.

"Well, I guess I need ta head back ta Brooklyn," Spot said. Asticot, in a moment of vagary, hugged Spot. He tensed up at her touch, but hugged back.

"You'd better come and visit me." she said.

"Okay, okay," Spot said as Asticot let go, "I will."

And with that, he set off towards Brooklyn.

Asticot knew things were going to get a lot better.

She could feel it...