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Sarah pushed through the door to the dance hall. Smoke hung from the ceiling like chandeliers, and the noise of conversation was already loud. She paused momentarily in the doorway, suddenly rethinking tonight’s plan. She was supposed to meet a friend from work here, Nora, the girl who sat at the sewing machine next to her’s. She had been talking all week about a Leap Year dance and had begged Sarah to come with her. Sarah had finally agreed, though she wasn’t sure she knew what to do. The whole idea was that the women asked the men to dance and led the social aspect of the evening, but it was so foreign, Sarah was worried she’d be too nervous to act outside of her comfort zone.
Nora waved to Sarah from the corner and she breathed a sigh of relief, she wasn’t going to be abandoned.
“Your hair looks amazing,” Nora said in way of greeting, grabbing Sarah’s arm and pulling her close. Nora was always giving compliments like that, every line was accompanied by a sweet word. It was one of the reasons Sarah liked her.
“I’m not sure about all this Nora, do you really think anyone will go for it?”
“Oh, definitely, I’ve heard my sisters talk about these dances for years, everyone plays along.”
Sarah’s eyes scanned the ballroom. It had a dark wood floor, scratched from so many dances over the years, and there was a bar in the far corner of the room, and a three piece band in the other. They were tuning their instruments now, and with every note Sarah got a little less nervous. It seemed like there were more women than men here, but that could be because the women’s fashions seemed to catch the light. It seemed no one had spared any expense on their outfits and Sarah smoothed her skirt out, a little self consciously. Most of these girls were from the neighborhood, no one had much money, but they seemed to be inventive in how they put together outfits. Sarah wished she had a skirt that matched the pretty top she had worn.
“Oh look,” Nora said, bringing Sarah out of her thoughts. She was looking across the room, where a couple more young men had walked in. Sarah instantly knew the one Nora had her eyes on, he was tall with dark hair, and eyes that seemed to pierce the night from all the way across the room. Exactly the type of guy Nora liked.
“Will you ask him to dance?”
“Definitely. But not right away, I don’t want to seem too eager.” Nora was brave in a way Sarah didn’t know how to be. Esther accused Sarah of being blunt, of not always knowing when to hold her tongue, but she didn’t think that was the same as bravery.
The night started in earnest when the band began to play. They played a fast opening number, but everyone still just stood in their little groups and talked. Then, the dance manager took to the front of the floor. She was an older fashionable woman, with big hair and a low cut gown. She waved for attention and the band quieted.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman, or should I say ‘gentlemen and ladies’? It’s Leap Day and we’re doing everything opposite tonight. So gentlemen, settle back and let the ladies ask you to dance, and ladies? Don’t be too shy, this is your chance!”
People started to look around the room in earnest, searching for perspective partners. Sarah felt a few glances on her, but when she looked they bounced away.
“We’ll start with a waltz! Ladies, pick your partners!”
Nora grabbed Sarah’s hand again as the music picked up, dragging her into the crowd of girls that crisscrossed the floor, nabbing partners.
Suddenly Nora was gone and Sarah was alone, looking around the room. She instantly hated the feeling. What if everyone she asked said no? Nora was off, asking a red headed boy to the floor. Sarah didn’t have time to unpack it, but she figured Nora was trying to throw the man she really wanted off her trail. She was always playing games like that.
Sarah’s eyes circled the room again, trying to land on a friendly face. She wasn’t necessarily looking for anything romantic, she just didn’t want the night to be a bust.
Her eyes tripped over something familiar.
She did a double take. Looked harder without concern about staring.
When she was sure, she scoffed a laugh and made a bee-line for the back of the room.
“Never in all my days did I think I’d see you here,” she said when she reached the figure she had set her sights on.
When he heard her voice, Spot Conlon turned around in surprise. It was hard to surprise Spot, even Sarah knew that, and she smiled despite herself.
It took him only a second to recover but a second was all it took, Spot was surprised to see her too.
“Sarah Jacobs, what are you doing in this den of squalor?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is much more my scene than it is yours.”
“Really? A Leap Year dance is your scene? I’ll have to mention that to David.”
Spot shifted and Sarah smiled.
“It’s important to keep an eye on what’s going on in the neighborhood,” he said measuredly, taking a sip of his drink.
“A neighborhood you don’t live in?”
“A good leader knows what’s happening in his neighbor’s cities too.”
“And that’s all this is? A friendly check in?”
“What do you want, Sarah?” His blue eyes flicked to hers with a tinge of annoyance and she felt a zing all the way down to her toes. What was it about getting under Spot’s skin that she liked so much? She wasn’t usually the antagonistic type, the opposite in fact, but Spot’s veneer was a little too pristine sometimes. She wanted to know what was under it.
“I want to know who you’re here with,” she said honestly.
“Who else?” Spot gestured across the room with his glass. There was Racetrack- Sarah didn’t know how she had missed him earlier- dancing with a pretty blonde girl.
“He tricked me-” Sarah raised her eyebrows when he admitted this, “He said there was someone here I needed to talk to. I should have known what he meant.”
“Which was?”
“A pretty girl, of course,” he said, and Sarah dropped his gaze, despite the fact he hadn’t been talking about her. It was instinctual, it didn’t mean anything.
“What about you? Why aren’t you home watching over precious David and Les?” he asked, but it wasn’t so much venomous as actually curious.
“I’m here with a friend from work.”
“Then why aren’t you with them?”
Sarah responded by pointing our Nora, spinning on the floor in the arms of her chosen gentleman.
Spot nodded, “You looking for a partner?”
“I was looking for a friendly face, actually,” she admitted.
“And yet here you are, talking to me.”
“Better the devil you know, than the one you don’t, right?”
Spot smiled behind his glass and Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he would like the comparison to a devil. He was so predicable sometimes, it made her wonder why the newsies were so afraid of him.
A new song started up as the conversation fell between them, Sarah watched the crowd disperse, then come back together.
Next to her, Spot drained his glass, “So, are you going to ask me to dance?”
“What?” she asked in surprise.
“It’s a dance, Sarah, you’ve been standing here longer than a song now, so are you going to ask me to dance or just get in the way of people who might?”
Sarah flushed red, all the way to her hair line. She had been standing there a while. She looked around, trying to see if anyone’s eye was on her or Spot.
The dance manager announced a two-step, and even though Sarah didn’t know the song, she knew the dance.
She swallowed.
“Alright.”
Spot made no move to get up from his stool, just crossed his arms and looked at her, blue eyes dancing in the low light. “That’s not good enough, you know how this works, you have to ask me.”
Sarah flushed again but this time with anger. No one at this dance would suffer as much as she would just to get a partner. “You’re a menace to society.”
Spot smirked and she moved to walk away, to be done with this infuriating man.
He inclined his head when he figured as much. His eyes were a touch softer, and there was some semblance of regret there, though he didn’t apologize, or even say anything else.
Sarah took a deep breath, “Fine. Spot, would you like to dance?”
Spot stood, ducking a smile into his shoulder, and extended his hand to her, “That was a little weak, but I’ll accept it.”
She practically slapped her hand into his, “You’ve been spending too much time with Racetrack.”
His eyes danced with a mirth she didn’t usually expect from him and he walked her out to the dance floor. They joined the dancing on the edge. Sarah turned to face Spot, and was suddenly nervous to touch his shoulder. She laid her hand there quickly, where his suspenders met his collar, like she might lose the nerve if she didn’t do it fast. She felt him tense and resisted the urge to draw her hand back. The music picked up and they both waited a beat, taking their first steps in unison. Sarah looked up at him-she had been watching her feet- just as his hand finally rested on her waist. She could feel the weight of it through her corset and blouse, a steady reminder she was actually dancing with Spot Conlon. She met his eyes and he was already looking at her, brow a little furrowed, like he was concentrating on the steps. The dance was fast and they didn’t talk for a few moments. Spot’s eyes only left hers when they turned, so he wouldn’t bump them into another couple.
“What would you normally be doing tonight, if you weren’t here?” she asked, when they had found their footing.
He thought a moment, and Sarah watched unabashedly, the way he seemed to measure each thought so precisely fascinated and infuriated her at the same time. Why did he hold so much back?
“I’d sell the evening edition, then probably get more sleep then I’ll be getting tonight,” he said good naturedly.
Sarah smiled, trying to picture his life across the bridge.
“What about you?”
“Probably sewing until the light got too dim, then same as you, I’d get more sleep.”
Spot looked at her with a long glance, “Do you sew every night?”
“Well, obviously not on Sabbat h, and only when I’ve managed to bring some in, but it pays well to do it, so I do as much as I can.”
Spot nodded, quiet as they turned.
“You work an awful lot.” It wasn’t a question.
She laughed, a bit without humor, “We all work a lot.”
He inclined his head at this. “You work more than David.”
“I’m the eldest, it’s natural.”
Spot made a sour face at that and a part of Sarah softened.
“David often sells the evening edition too,” she pointed out, coming to the defense of her brother.
“He’s lucky to have you,” he answered, and Sarah had the suspicion he wouldn’t be swayed from his opinion.
“We’re lucky to have each other,” she answered regardless.
Spot let the conversation drop but she could see something turning in his eyes. She didn’t want the mood to turn.
“What do you do all day in Brooklyn?” she asked, “What does being a leader of a borough entail?” Of course she had heard some of it from Jack, but just as Spot was sure she worked more than David, Sarah was equally as convinced that Spot did more than Jack.
“Wouldn’t you like to know? If I tell you everything, you might try to overthrow me,” he said with a teasing smirk. The clouds were gone from his eyes for the moment.
Sarah laughed, “You really do think you’re a king, don’t you?”
“It’s a good image to maintain,” he said with a knowing glance. “But it’s a lot more of putting out fires than you’d expect.”
“What do you mean?”
“A lot of it is figuring out where to get the money to stock the pantry, the medicine cabinet, buy coal, things like that.”
“Isn’t there an agency?” Sarah asked, thinking of the aid society that ran the lodge house where Manhattan newsies lived. It was who hired Mr. Kloppman, where all the money came from.
Spot laughed bitterly. “They dissipated after the city got consolidated a couple years ago. Slowly all the adults moved on and all the kids kept coming. We haven’t had any help in years,” Spot answered. His eyes were steely, a bitterness to them that Sarah had seen before, and now could attribute meaning to.
“You’re doing it all yourself.”
Spot seemed to realize how much he’d said, how much he had admitted to .
“Like you said Sarah, we all work a lot.”
Sarah sized him up. It had been a while since the strike. He was intimidating then, there was no question about it. If she hadn’t had the introduction from David, she didn’t think she would have spoken to him. Now, she didn’t see him quite that way, but from an outsider’s perspective? He had everything he did when they had first met- the confidence, the surety in the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to be able to intimidate people with a single icy glance. But now they were a little older, and Sarah could see that Spot had just been a kid then too. He had all that, and the something else now.
Spot had grown up a bit since the strike, he was still lean, but she felt the sure weight of muscle in his shoulder under her hand, his arm tight under her waist as he lead them into another turn. Spot could be scary, Sarah knew that, but he had just admitted it-whether or not he meant to- a part of it was an image he was maintaining. She wondered how dancing with her tonight fit into that image. Spot made choices. This was a choice.
The song ended and they slowed. They stepped apart but Spot didn’t drop her hand, and Sarah didn’t try to pull away. A waltz started, and distantly- it seemed- Sarah heard the dance manager announce it.
“Another?” Sarah asked quietly, and Spot nodded, pulling her slightly closer. Something stirred within her. Something she couldn’t identify, but that wasn’t entirely foreign to her either. It was similar to the zing she felt when Spot’s eyes flashed and she knew she had gotten under his skin. It was that but softer, and sustained. His eyes met hers, and something flickered through them quickly. If he was reading something on her face, she was afraid at what he’d see. She was starting to feel afraid at what she was feeling.
For a while they didn’t speak, and Sarah didn’t meet his eyes. The waltz was slower, but she wasn’t as pressed into his side as she had been before. It gave her room to think. The left side of her body felt cold from where it had been warm against Spot. She tried to ignore it and use her head. She hadn’t been out in a while, hadn’t danced like this, with anyone, in a while. Maybe it was just the feeling she was missing, the sensation of someone next to her. But there was a part of her she couldn’t convince, either.
“Racetrack really tricked you into coming tonight?” she asked when they had found their pacing.
“I hate to admit it, but he did.”
“You didn’t realize he’d try to set you up?”
“Racetrack doesn’t do so much setting up, as dragging you to a dance and then leaving you to your own devices.”
“So he wouldn’t care we’re dancing together?”
Spot snorted, “I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say about it later.”
“Good or bad?”
“Hard to say. Likely somewhere in between.”
“Should I be insulted?” She asked it with a smile on her face, but she found that she did care, just a little, what would be said about her later.
“No.” He paused and glanced around, “I can say honestly, there’s no one I’d rather dance with tonight.”
Sarah blushed all the way down to her toes. “I second that.”
“The devil you know?” He asked with smirk, echoing her earlier sentiment.
“Without a doubt.”
Spot laughed and she swore he pulled her a little closer.
The night wore on and Sarah found she didn’t care to look for another partner. She had never thought Spot was the type to be polite, so if he found dancing with her tiring, she assumed he’d say something. By the end of the night they had danced most of the songs together, pausing only to get a drink and rest their feet. Conversation flowed easier than Sarah had ever imagined it would with Spot. He was charming. That was a surprise. Quick witted, sharp, with a dark sense of humor -sure, but charming? Sarah never would have guessed.
Finally it was time to part ways and they stood across from each other, slightly closer than at the beginning of the night. Spot’s brows were slightly furrowed, like he was trying to work out a complex problem. Sarah didn’t want to know how she looked. She could tell her hair was frizzing and coming out of it’s twist from a night of dancing. She probably looked disheveled and coming apart at the seams. She felt that way too, just a little.
“This was interesting,” Spot said, and it encompassed how Sarah felt too. Interesting. Surprising. Odd. There were lots of adjectives she could assign to the evening.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” Sarah said, letting her manners take over when she found she didn’t know what to say.
The corner of Spot’s mouth turned up, “Thank you for asking.”
“Leap Year’s over now, things go back to normal,” She said, almost a reassurance to herself.
Spot stuck his cap on his head, glancing at the door, “Do they? Can they?”
Sarah looked at him in surprise. What did that mean? Didn’t they go back to normal? What this had been, it certainly wasn’t normal.
“Goodnight Sarah.”
“Goodnight Spot,” she said softly. He spared another look at her, his eyes surprisingly soft, and then he was gone.
She laid awake in bed that night, almost til the sun broke the horizon. Do they? Can they? She felt the weight of Spot’s hand on her waist long they were gone, the sense that something had changed hanging over her.