Dear you, Bridget Kathleen [english novels to read txt] 📗

Please don't cry
Please listen to me
Please don't be afraid, I won't do anything
I'll cry with you, for you
Please, don't be scared

Spot Conlon was hard at work at the District Union. Handing out papers, papers, and more papers and occasionally shouting out orders. That was something Spot was good at: Shouting at people and telling them what to do (He got a lot of respect and people looked up to him...er, well, most did) It was how he got this job in the first place. He was practically running his own business, only he had bosses too. And of course there was that GOD FORSAKEN Charles Vanham. Who did he think he was anyway? Spot could hardly stand him. He only put up with him for...well, let's see...NUMEROUS reasons: One, he's a rank above him. Two, a good friend of Thomas O'Brian. Three, a 'teammate' of Mr. O'Brian's group of men, who once in a while had important discussions and four, because Charles is the one who got him this job, but that was another story. Spot hated thinking about the past. It wasn't a good one and he didn't want to remember it, but now he was in New York, getting a new chance at life. He might have loved his mother homeland, Ireland, but the things going on over there were getting just too hard. Now again, that was all in the past and Spot had his mind on other things, such a certain girl: Evelyn Connealy. An Irish girl, no doubt.
"HEY! Ya day dreamin' 'bout candy land oveh there?" yelled a younger boy.
Spot picked up a pencil and chucked it at the boy. "The next time I heah anotheh blubberin' woid come outa ya mouth, I'ma throw me shoe at you! Now git back t'woik!" The dark haired boy rubbed his arm where the pencil had nailed him and while trying to contain his laughter he went back to work.
Later on that day, after work, Spot found himself walking down to a dock all too familiar. It was the dock where most of the Brookklyn newsie boys hung out.
"Heya boys! How's it rollin'?" he hollered at the boys. Some of the boys turned their heads and greeted Spot. He walked up to one kid imparticular. "Eh, Racetrack." He spat in his hand the same as Racetrack and the shook.
"Salve!" said Racetrack.
Spot chuckled. "Whoa, kid, slow down; I'm Irish, not Italian." Spot then looked behind his friend and saw a face he hadn't seen yet in these parts of Brooklyn. "Race, who's dis kid?" he pointed his cane the boy.
Racetrack looked behind himself and smiled. "Oh, that be my friend, Finn. Finn Reardon. He a newsie too." Spot gave one nod. "He wanted t'see the docks so I'se decided to tak 'em here t'day." Spot nodded again and then walked past Racetrack. He placed the tip of his cane on the boy called Finn and looked him right in his hazel eyes. Spot didn't say a word to the kid. His look was intimidating enough!
Spot then spun back 'round to Racetrack. "Ya seen me lil brotheh anywhere?" he asked.
Racetrack nodded. "Yeah. He was heah. Jus' left few minutes ago. Why? He in some trouble?" Race asked.
Spot shook his head. "Nah. Jus' don' want no Plug Uglie gettin' him is all." with that, Spot left the group of Newise boys and went looking for his brother, heading in the usually direction that his little brother took home.
As Spot continued on his walk home he started his way across the park only to stop soon after by catching a glimpse of a beautiful girl. The pigeons were cluttered around her as she fed them bread crumbs. Her long skirt swaying a little bit in the wind and a few strands of hair hanging at the side of her face. He stood there, staring at her for a good minute or so until she finally noticed him looking at her and she quickly looked the other way. Spot blinked hard once and shook his head when he realized that it was Evelyn that he had been staring at and began to walk up to her.
"Hey, uh...Evelyn." he started out. "What ya doin' out heah. Getting pretty cold out ya know?" he scratched the back of his head.
Finally Evelyn turned around. God she looked so cute! Spot just wanted to hold her close and never let her go. Feel her hair and the curve of her body and...wait. Spot shook away his thoughts and listened to what Evelyn had to say next.
"Hello, Spot." Spot smiled back in return for that 'hello'. "Why were you just standing over there?" he looked past Spot's shoulder where he was standing just moments before.
"I was on me way home," he answered truthfully. "Den I saw you and thought I'se say hi."
Evelyn blushed. "Oh!...Well, thanks!"
"So what are ya doin' heah by ya self?" Spot asked.
Evelyn pointed to a store across from the park. "Mrs. O'Brian is doing some shopping. I'd thought I'd go with her."
"So ya standin' out heah?" Spot was little confused.
Evelyn bit the bottom of her lip and Spot noticed this. He wished he could bite those lips and...AND AGAIN he had to shake his head before his thoughts went any further.
"You ok, Spot?" Evelyn asked.
"Uh, what?...Yeah!...Yeah." he then saw Mrs. O'Brian making her way across the street and over to the park. "Nice chattin' with, Evelyn." He tipped his hat and walked off, but before he completely walked away he quickly stopped and turned around. "Evelyn!" he suddenly said. Evelyn turned around and waited for him to speak again. "What say you 'bout that REAL Irish party?" he asked. Evelyn grinned a little and nodded. Spot smiled back. "Great," he said. "How's 'leven 'clock sound t'night?" he asked her. At first Evelyn wasn't sure how to respond to his sudden request and Sybelle was fast approaching. It was do or don't. Now or never. Evelyn finally said yes and Spot was on his way.
Later that night the cool air gave a nice breeze as he walked down the street towards the O'Brian's house. It was eleven-fifteen. The party was at eleven-thirty. Finally he came to the gate and pulled himself over it and landed cat-like on the moist grass. He made his way to the back yard and looked for Evelyn's bedroom window. He looked to his right and saw nothing to climb up on. He then looked to his left and saw a water pipe. Spot wasn't sure how well it would hold his weight but at this moment it was the best thing he could use. As he made his way up on the little side roof he lightly knocked on the window. Suddenly Evelyn's face popped out from behind the curtains and smiled a little. She quickly opened the window and Spot helped her out. She was still in the same clothes as before: A long black skirt and a white long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was still in a bun only this time no strands of hair hung lose.
"Let me climb down foist," he told her. "And then you'se can jump down in me arms." Evelyn nodded. As Spot climbed down the pipe again his hands and feet slipped, making him fall the last five feet and he landed on his side.
A small gasp escaped Evelyn's lips. "You alright, Spot?" she whispered loudly.
Spot stood up soon after his fall, wiping off some of the dirt. He nodded. "Yeah. I'se jus' fine."
"Perhaps I should find another way down?" suggested Evelyn.
Spot shook his head. "Nah. Jus' jump and I'se will catch ya. Promise." Evelyn let out a heavy breath and then found herself jumping. She closed her eyes soon found herself in Spot's arms. "See? Told ya I'se catch ya." he smirked and let her down. "C'mon!" he said and led her out into the night.

The cry of the summer
Drowns out my voice
Even a small bit is alright, please don't cry
I'll forgive you, please don't cry

Spot pulled Evelyn along on the empty Brooklyn streets. Their footsteps giving off soft pita-pat sounds on the stone ground. The air was a little cold, but it was bearable.
"Here we are." announced Spot. They stood in front of a building called, The Green Pub. An Irish bar no doubt. Spot took Evelyn's hand again and they both went inside. Those noise quickly got louder. Music filled the air and people were all over the place. Some were drunk and merry, others were up on a small stage singing and dancing along with the music. Everyone looked like they were having the time of their life. Suddenly a drunken man bumped into Evelyn and her fingers slipped right out of Spot's reach. "Spot!" she called out.
"Evelyn!" she heard Spot call out to her too. All of a sudden, the drunk man that had bumped into Evelyn was being pulled back by none other than Spot.
"The hell ya doin, mate?" said Spot. "Git ya drunk ars outa heah!" with that the drunk man laughed and staggered away. Spot quickly walked up to Evelyn and locked arms with her. "Dis place can get a lil crazy sometimes, but don' worry. You'se got me heah." he gave her a reassuring grin.
"Is this place usually like this?" asked Evelyn.
Spot pulled out a chair for her to sit down and then grabbed a seat himself. "Yeah...Usually. Ya never git bored heah dats for soir." Spot laughed. "I'se remembeh ta foist time I'se eveh stepped foot in heah. Was one of the greatest times of me life!" A waiter then placed a pint of beer down in front of Spot. "Same as usually, Mr. Conlon." Spot nodded his head once and then took the pint and took a great big gulp. He then reached in his pocket and placed 5 cents in the waiters hand. "Thank you, sir." Spot liked being called that. He liked having getting respect from others.
"You come here a lot, I can tell." said Evelyn.
Spot grinned. "Sure do, goily," he then looked at Evelyn a bit more closely. "Hey uh...you'se want anything t'drink?"
Evelyn thought for a moment. "Maybe just some water."
Spot raised a brow. "PSHAW!" he waved a hand in his face and then waved his hand in the air and called the waiter over.
"Yes, sir?" asked the waiter.
"Git me friend here a pint of Irish whisky." the waiter nodded and was off.
Evelyn was surprised. Did people not care how old you were to drink? "Oh...Spot...I don't think I can handle that." she told him.
Spot laughed. "Soir ya can! If ya don' finish it, I will gladly take that rest." he put his hand on his chest and tried to look as humble as possible and then burst out laughing. Evelyn couldn't help but join him. Soon the waiter placed a pint of Irish whisky down in front of her. She looked down at