Spot Conlon lied awake in his bed. He couldn�t sleep, to much was on his mind. All the newsies around him had already been asleep for hours. He got up slowly and quietly walked over to the window in the lodging house. He climbed out onto the roof. It was a beautiful night, the stars were shining, and the moon was full. He lied down and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air. Spot loved these kinds of nights.
Every now and then Spot would lie on the roof to think. He did this from time to time just to escape the responsibilities of being the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. A title he loved but didn�t always want to have. He was young perhaps too young to be the leader.
It wasn�t as though he chose to have such a title. It was just given to him. He occasionally thought back to when he first became the leader. Sometimes he even wondered why he took such a large responsibility. The answer was easy, but still it helped him to remind himself why. He thought back, far back to the first day he came to Brooklyn.
Before he became a newsie Spot was only known as Benjamin Conlon, or Ben as he preferred. The nickname Spot would come later. He had just lost both of his parents and his younger brother. He lived in Philadelphia, up until his family's death. Each day was more painful than the day before. He couldn�t stand to live there anymore. It reminded him to much of his family. He wanted to forget, and needed to forget about them.
A few months after their death, Ben went to the train station to leave Philadelphia. He was almost nine years old at the time. He didn�t have any money to buy a ticket. The only thing he owned was the clothes on his back and a key that his mother had given him right before her death.
He thought that maybe he would be able to get some money off of it. It was after all a very old key, with a little historic significance to it. Every time he went to pawn it, he wasn�t able to part with it. That key was the only thing he had left to remember his family by.
When the last train for the night started for departure, Ben jumped onto the back of it. He grabbed on to some poles on the side of the train and started climbing to one of the box cars. He managed to open the door with his one free hand just enough so that he could get in. Once inside he opened the door all the way, so he would be able to see where he was going and so he would be able to get off faster. In the box car there was only barrels of hay, so he would easily be able to hide behind them if he had to.
He was on the train for almost five hours. Most of the time he was asleep. When he wasn�t he would pass the time thinking about his family, even when he didn�t want to. No matter how hard Ben tried he couldn�t stop thinking about them. Sometimes he even wished that he could have been with them when they died.
The train started to slow down when they got to Brooklyn. Ben figured now was the best time to jump off. He didn�t want to risk anyone seeing him. He went to the door and looked down, they were still going fast.
He finally got up enough nerve and he jumped. Ben hit the ground on his left side and screamed with pain. He got the wind knocked out of him and his ribs were aching. It was late at night so no one was around to hear his cries. He got to his feet and held his side. He started walking towards the town.
By morning Ben was tiered and hungry. He spotted a boy holding newspapers and saw that people were buying them from him. He walked over to the boy. The boy was taller, more muscular, and older than Ben. He didn�t really care if the boy decided to beat him up or not, he just wanted to talk to him.
�Can I have one of your papers?� Ben asked, with a soft Philadelphia accent.
�You�se gots any money?� The boy asked. Ben shook his head. �Where�s yer parents kid?�
�Dead.� Ben answered.
�Tell ya what I�ll give ya some of me papes, so you�se kin sell �em and git some money.�
The boy gave Ben a few of his papers.
�Don�t even think of sellin� �em heah. Dis is my sellin� spot.�
The boy gave Ben a small push, and Ben walked away from him. He saw a spot where no other kids were selling newspapers. He went over to it and quickly started screaming out headlines like he saw the other boy doing. He felt someone touch his shoulder, he turned around and saw another boy with papers standing over him.
�Hey ya little spot stealer, everyone knows dat I sell me papes heah.� The boy said with a very strong New York accent.
Ben looked at him. He was tall and about seventeen years old. His hair and his eyes were both brown. He had a black cane with a gold top on it.
�I�se knows every newsies dere is, but I aint neva seen you before. Are you a newsie?� The boy asked. Ben shook his head. �How�d ya get de papes den?�
�That kid over there gave them to me.� Ben said pointing to the boy he meet earlier.
�Chip, figures.� He said with a chuckle.
�I�m sorry, I�ll leave.� Bed said. He walked away from the boy still holding the papers in his hand..
�Hey! Yo! Spot Stealah! Hey wait up!� The boy called after him.
Bed stopped, and turned around facing the boy that jogged back over to him.
�You�se aint neva gonna git noweheres if ya let people tell ya what ta do. Where ya from?�
�Philadelphia,� Bed answered.
�Wow, you traveled heah from dere?� Ben nodded. �You�se aint got no parents do ya?� A tear fell from Ben�s check, from being reminded yet again about his family. �Look, neva let anyone see ya cry. If ya need ta cry you�se do what I do, go on a roof in the middle of the night when everyone�s sleeping.� He paused for a moment. �Do ya wanna be a newsie?�
�Yeah,� Ben responded.
�Good, ya stick wid me Spot Stealah and I�ll teach ya everything I know. Da names Cody. I�m da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies. And if ya play yer cards right an� do what I say, maybe you�ll be da next leadah.�
After a year or two of being with the Brooklyn newsies Ben�s soft Philadelphia accent faded away and a New York accent took its place. No one ever asked to know Ben�s real name he was just called by what Cody had called him, Spot Stealer, after time all the newsies except for Cody just called him Spot. He spent almost all of his time with Cody. Spot had lost his first family, but now Cody was his family. He was like an older brother to him.
Spot walked into Cody�s bedroom on his eleventh birthday. It was suppose to be a happy day for him, but it wasn�t. Cody was on his death bed. He had been sick for the past few years, but it had gotten worse over the last few days. He knelt down next to his bed. He wanted to cry, but couldn�t. Cody coughed and turned his head to look at Spot.
�Hey ya Spot Stealah.� He said.
His voice was weak, just talking now took a lot of strength. He coughed again. It was killing Spot to see Cody in so much pain.
�Look afta da newsies for me. Dey need a leadah and I want you ta take my place.� He stopped to once again coughed. �Heah, take dis ta rememba me by.� Cody handed Spot his gold capped cane. �Promise me you�ll stay heah, in Brooklyn and be their leadah. Teach the new newsies like I taught you. Do ya promise?�
�Yeah, I promise Cody.�
Cody tuned away from Spot and started breathing heavy. Then his eyes closed and his breathing stopped. Spot held back his tears. He stayed by Cody�s side until his body was taken away. He never once cried.
After awhile Spot was able gained all the newsies� respect, and from all of what Cody had taught him he managed intimidate everyone in New York.
Spot sighed remembering what had happened to him. He took a deep breath and a tear rolled down his check. He quickly wiped it away. Spot missed Cody, every day of his life he thought about him. He had a reason that he stays to himself, and never lets anyone near him. He�s afraid of losing them. Everyone that he has ever gotten close to ended up dead. He knew that he wouldn�t be able to live if he lost anyone else.
Spot felt a raindrop fall on his face, and then more started to come down. He went back inside through the window, closing it behind him. He went over to his bed, and saw the cane that Cody had given him leaning up against the wall. He felt a tear forming in his eye, he tried to hold it back but couldn�t. More followed it, until he found himself crying with his head buried in a pillow. He finally managed to control his tears and looked over at the cane one last time. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, knowing the next day he would have to put aside his memories, and go one fulfilling Cody�s desire for him lead the Brooklyn newsies.