The moon was full that night. There were barely any clouds in the sky, save for the few that lingered from that morning's shower. The music inside the Hall was catchy and romantic; perfect for dancing with your lover.

Yeah, okay, so I have a romantic streak in me. So sue me.

Alright so that's not what this story's about, but that was a nice beginning, huh? Well, maybe it wasn't that good…but agree with me anyway. It builds my ego. In any case, that all comes later.

This here story has to do with Conlon. Spot Conlon, that is. The boy can't dance. At all. Period. Nada. Nil. He's got two left feet. He's got no rhythm or whatever else that has to do with dancing.

Wait…ah Jesus I'm getting ahead of myself. Alright, let's try this again.

See, we newsies every spring will have some type of entertainment at Irving Hall. Medda likes to treat us to things like that. Last year it was a clown.

Needless to say that show didn't go very well. I don't think the clown appreciated all the popcorn he had tossed at him…

-Cough- Anyway, this year, it was supposed to be – can you guess it? - A dance. That happened to confuse the general public, so we made it a "formal" dance. Formal enough for us, anyway.

So of course the usual girly-girls were worried about what to wear to this dance and who'd take them or who they'd ask if nobody asked them, blah blah blah. Me? I sat on the fire escape. I hated dances and girly-girls. I've never been a girly-girl, and I didn't intend to start then.

That's when I saw Spot on the roof. The boy was muttering to himself, kicking at random pebbles that were sitting there minding their own business.

Well, fearing for his sanity and for the safety of the pebbles, I went up to the roof to coax him inside.

"Hey, Conlon, what's on your mind?" I asked

"…Stupid flippin'- Uh….nothing, Timb, nothing at all. What're you doing up here?" He asked, clearly annoyed at the interruption of his thoughts.

Oh yeah…I'm Timber…kinda forgot to mention that before. Yeah, nice to meet you and all that. Anyway…

"Well…I kind of figured you needed the company, since you're talking to yourself. So what's on your mind, Monkey butt?" I asked again, sitting on the ledge. When he didn't respond – he kinda just stood there, staring at me with a blank look on his face; annoying, really – I patted the concrete beside me. "Pull up a slab and tell me your troubles. The Great Timber knows ALL!"

Spot finally sighed and sat down, after another moment of looking at me like I was crazy. He ran a hand through his hair when I only stared at him. Well, I wanted answers, durn him!

"It's….about this whole…dance thing." He said vaguely. I only raised a brow.

"Dance thing? What about…oh that." I made a face. I HATED dances. "Well, what about it?"

He glanced around quickly, as if someone else would be spying on him. I tell you, this boy is paranoid. He's the leader of Brooklyn, sure, but he thinks everyone's out to assassinate him or something. "It's kinda…personal…and it's stupid."

I stopped picking at the concrete and looked at him. Spot Conlon having something personal and stupid in the same sentence? And he was referring to himself? I was intrigued! "I'm listening."

Spot hesitated, which only annoyed me. "Look Conlon, if I wanted to spout rumors and make fun of you, I would've ten times over already. Don't you know me a LITTLE better than that after all these years?"

He gave me a look. "It's only been five."

"My point exactly."

"What are you talking about?"

"This isn't about me, boy, it's about you. C'mon! Spill the beans!"

Spot hesitated once more, before making a face and giving in. "I…uh…I can't dance…" He mumbled.

I'd heard him easily enough; I have good ears…but just for the sake of tormenting the boy, which was my favorite pastime… "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He narrowed his eyes slowly at me. "You had better not start laughing."

"Boy, out with it!"

"I can't dance!"

I couldn't help it. It sorta slipped out… You know those random urges you get when you have to laugh but the source wasn't really funny at all? Well…maybe you don't get those but it happens to me all the time. Anyway…I couldn't help it.

I burst out laughing.

Spot got up with a growl and started to walk off.

"No, no don't walk off. I'm sorry…I couldn't help myself." I choked out, hanging onto his suspenders. "Come on, sit back down." When he finally did what I asked, I cleared my throat.

"So…why is that such a big deal?" I asked him, once I was sure I could get the words out without my voice breaking. He looked shocked at my question.

"Because! I mean…look at all the other guys, Timb. Do THEY look like they need lessons on it? When I go, I don't want to make a complete idiot of myself."

Spot Conlon insecure! Was I dreaming!

I had to console him. I mean…he looked so pathetic.

"Well that isn't a big problem, is it? Get a friend to help you out? With no time, you'll be Twinkle-toes!"

Unfortunately, this proved to be my downfall, because next he turned to me with a glint in his eye.

"Would you teach me?"

"WHAT!"

"Well you said get one of my friends to help me, and who better than you! I mean I can trust you so you won't go blabbing to anyone, and I already know you know how to dance."

Sometimes I wonder why I open my big mouth. "Look Conlon –…"

"Please Timb?" He asked pitifully, taking my hand and giving me an earnest look.

No matter how strong the wall, the boy always seems to break it down.

"…Fine…"

"THANK YOU!" He grabbed me into a bear hug and got up. "You won't regret it, Timb!" He said over his shoulder as he leaped onto the fire escape and went into the bunkroom.

"Oh, I'm sure I will…" I muttered, rubbing my temples.

This is what I get for being a good person.

And they say Karma repays the loyal. My ass!