Four friends.

Lily, Albert, Colin and Alexa.

Four hands that imperceptibly shoot out as we pass a fruit stand. Four hands that, around the corner, suddenly possess an apple each.

Albert looked at his apple. "O apple, feed my stomach and cease my hunger," he said reverently, and took a bite.

The rest of us just bit into our apples silently, rolling our eyes at him. "You're nuts, Clue. Did we ever tell you that?" We called him Clue, that was his nickname. Don't ask why, we had no idea. It just was. "Yep," he said. "Many a time. Do I listen?"

"No," we chorused. "That'd be the day," I snorted.

"Stealin' again?" asked a snide voice. I turned around: Victoria. "No," I snapped. "We're not."

"Uh-huh." She looked at us disbelievingly, hand on hip. We glared back. "Well, ya'd better not be, because the coppers are lookin' for ya, Alex."

I shared a glance with the others. The coppers? We and they'd given each other trouble before, sure. They'd never come looking before, though. "D'ya know why?" I reluctantly asked Tori.

"Nup," she replied easily. "I think they're goin' t'ya house, though. Ya might catch 'em there. See yas," she ran off before any of us could reply.

"Coppers? At ya house?" asked Colin.

"Weird," agreed Lily. "Ya'd better skedaddle, Given. Ya mom'll be worried if they are goin' there."

"Yeah," I agreed, frowning. "Comin'?"

"Comin'?" Clue repeated, blinking. "Well… if ya want…"

"I do want," I said firmly. "C'mon." I set off and Clue followed me, who was in turn followed by Lily and then Colin. "So why d'ya think the coppers are after ya, Given? Think they've finally decided to go after ya mom, or what?" I shrugged. "Dunno. Tori'd probably have a laugh whichever."

"Alex, hon, if they're after ya mom you'd have a lot more to worry about than Tori." Pointed out Lily. "Yeah," I agreed, quickly finishing my apple and dumping the core in the gutter. "But I prefer to believe that she's my biggest problem. My life is so much simpler that way."

Lils shrugged. "Whatever."

My mom was waiting for me outside when we got there. I felt a sense of foreboding — mom never waited for me. I could be out as late as I wanted, she never cared before… now here she was, standing fretfully on the doorstep like I'd never come back. "'Sup, mom?" I asked.

"Lexi!" her face broke into a smile, then the smile disappeared. "Come in, hon. There are some people 'ere ta see ya."

"What sorta "people"?" I asked suspiciously.

The smile was completely gone. "People who knew ya pops," she replied seriously.

"We'll see ya tomorrow, Given," said Lily after a minute of silence. "Yeah, see yas, Alex," said the guys. "Yeah…" I said distantly. "See yas, guys…" I stepped into the house after my mom, into the sitting room where mom entertained people. There were a few men there, two in military uniforms and one a copper. Mom tried to usher me in but I hung around the doorframe. "What's goin' on?"

"Alexa Kennedy?" I blinked and gave a stiff sort of nod. Nobody called me Alexa Kennedy. Alex, Lexi, Lex, Given, sure. Not Alexa. "Not to be rude," I said curtly, "But who are you?"

One of the soldiers shot my mom a glance. "Hey," she said. "The girl only got in a minute ago. Besides, you're s'posed ta be the ones tellin' 'er." The man gave a reluctant sort of shrug. "Very well. Perhaps you'd better take a seat, Alexa…" I frowned at being offered a seat in my own house by this military man with good diction. But I sat, not taking my eyes off them. "I am—" I am, I thought. What's wrong with 'I'm'? "—General Robinson," he announced. "This is Wing Commander Rose and Constable Quentin."

"Uh-huh," I replied. "And what are ya here for?"

"Lexi!" chided my mom. "Don't be rude."

"I'm not bein' rude. I'm bein' impatient," I retorted, my short temper giving a slight glow.

The general passed a hand over his eyes. He suddenly looked old and tired. "We're here because of your father, Miss Kennedy."

"He's dead," I said shortly.

"Yes, we know," said the general, while the constable smiled at me in a way that said he thought me a bit slow. "But he left something."

"He left somethin'?" I repeated, curiosity piqued. "What sorta thing?"

"I think ya'd better tell 'er from the beginnin', General," said mom. "The very beginnin'."

I narrowed my eyes. "Tell me what?" I demanded of the general. "What's with my pops?"

With a glance at his two companions, General Robinson began.

"Fifteen years ago your father was a soldier in the war. He was a good fighter, strategic-minded, strong, disciplined… anyway…

"He was given a mission a few years ago, to take out the enemy base. He— can you keep a secret, Alexa?" the thought seemed to suddenly occur to him. "I would say yeah either way, general. Does my word really count?" he stared at me. "I suppose not," he murmured finally. "Anyway, he was instructed to take out the enemy base — I cannot enclose its exact whereabouts now — This he failed to do."

"…So…?"

"Your father left an extra note in his will," said the General, holding out his hand to Wing Commander Rose, who handed him an envelope. My mother jumped up, her cheeks red with anger. "Why wasn't this disclosed to us before?" she demanded hotly. Mr. Rose looked down, and the general sighed. "I admit, milady, that it legally should have been disclosed earlier, but being a personal letter to the Wing Commander here, he chose to keep it." Mom sat down again slowly, glaring at all three of our guests. "ANYWAY," I said loudly. "You were saying? This letter?"

"Ah yes," said General Robinson. "This letter was addressed to Rose here…" he paused, perusing the letter. "Perhaps you'd prefer to read it yourself?" he handed it to me. I took it slowly and slid my eyes down to my father's handwriting.

"So," I said slowly, when I'd finished, "What has this got to do with me?" it basically said that my father was chosen for this suicide mission to take out the enemy base and he knew it.

"Do you know why your father was chosen for this assignment?" the general asked gently.

I scowled. "What do you think?"

The constable rolled his eyes but the general stayed patient. "Your father, and his family, are descended from an ancient sect of warriors, did you know that?" I shook my head once. "Well, these warriors had special abilities. They were trained to enhance these abilities, but they were born to it — it was physical. Genetic."

I said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "This ability would enable him to penetrate the enemy base and have the best chance of succeeding." I was beginning to see where this was going. But I wasn't about to make it easy for him. "I still don't understand what this has to do with me. So my pops could penetrate this base. So what?"

"So now we need someone with his ancestry — his blood — to finish the mission." I couldn't pretend I didn't know what he was talking about now. I looked at mom, who was wearing an impassive expression. She looked up as if she felt my eyes on her, and shrugged apologetically. "I promised to let them tell you, Lexi. You don't have to," she said. A flash of impatience crossed General Robinson's face. "This is not something to be sneezed at, Mrs. Kennedy," he said. "The outcome of this war could depend on this."

"On this? On the suicide of a thirteen-year-old girl?" demanded mom. "Wait, wait, wait," I said quickly, before my mom could throw one of her Mrs. Kennedy tantrums. "What 'xactly would this mission have me do?" I asked the general challengingly. He looked slightly hopeful, as though he'd convinced me. "You'd have to go into the enemy base and plant an explosive. They've got detectors and—" he paused. "—Other equipment for detecting bombs in their building. The bomb would have to go off in about five minutes — you wouldn't have time to vacate the premises." I noticed that something — possibly excitement — had slotted contractions into his sentence. "You'd", "They've", "Wouldn't"…

"Will there be people in this building?" I asked. The general frowned slightly. "I expect so, yes. Enemy troops, keeping things up and running."

"How many?"

"I'd expect in the hundreds."

"So…" I said slowly. "You want me not only to kill myself, but hundreds of other people in this building?"

"Alexa," said the general gently. "These people killed your father."

"No," I corrected him. "The man-nuh" —I emphasized the singular— "Who killed my pops is dead, general. I 'eard that much. These people are just doin' their job. I don't have a problem with taking out the HQ, general, just the whole death thing. Besides. Why ask me? If it's genetic, why not ask uncle Frank?"

"Ask… who?" asked the general.

"Uncle Frank," I repeated, slowly and clearly. "Dad's brother."

The general seemed stumped. After a moment, he turned to Rose. "Did you know about this?" he spluttered. Rose shook his head. "Alcatraz," my mom said quietly as an explanation. Her face was white with anger. "Perhaps ya'd like to do a proper background check before ya ask my daughter to commit suicide."

"Well," I said brightly, "It's somethin' for ya ta look inta. See yas," I excused myself from the house before they could say anything and went to look for the others.

"" "" "" "" ""

"Given!"

"Oh, hey, Lils."

Lily rounded the corner and I saw that the guys were with her. They ran up to me. "What was that all about?" they demanded, faces shining with curiosity. "Oh, a copper and a couple of mils." I used the slang for military men.

"Mils? Why?"

I glanced up and down the street. "Well — hold on." I searched in my pocket for the money my mom had given me a while ago and held it up. "C'mon, we can go down ta Dom's and I'll tells ya."

"Hey, Blue!" called the guy behind the counter of the bar. "Hey, Dom," replied Lily. "Lexi, Colin, Al," Dom continued. "What'll it be?"

"Four lemonades," said Lils, while I slid the money over the counter. Dom grinned at us and handed over the bottles. "Be with ya in a minute," he said, winking, then shooed us off to a table so he could serve the next customer. We slid into the booth by the window and Clue leaned forward. "Talk fast, Given-gal, before Dom comes over."

"OK," I said, and we all leaned in like Clue. "So. These guys from the mils came, right? A general, a Wing Commander and a copper. And they says that my pops was chosen for a suicide mission, 'cos of some genetic thing in his ancestors. But he didn't manage it, sos these men came 'ere to try and convince me to. 'Cos I got the same "ability" pops got."

Lils stared at me for a moment. "Wait on. They want ya ta go on a suicide mission? While you're thirteen? Are they nuts?"

I grinned. "Sure. I mean, they hadn't even heard 'bout uncle Frank."

"Isn't he the one in Alcatraz?" asked Colin.

"Yeah. But he's an adult, right? And he's dad's bro, so he should have the blood, right? How stupid can ya get?"

Clue laughed with me. "Totallys. So—"

"What you guys whisperin' 'bout?" asked Dom, sliding into the booth next to Lils. "Nothin'," we all said at the same time. Dom raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Sure y'are." Lils smiled at him sweetly. "Coppers paid Lexi a visit."

"Coppers! Not in trouble, are ya, Given?"

"Ah, nah," I said easily. "Just some stuff 'bout my pops." Dom looked slightly uncomfortable. "Oh." I rolled my eyes. "Ah, it's right, Dom. I never knew 'im anyway. Just a letter 'e wrote never got to us, and it was handed over today, s'all."

"A letter that never got handed over? After thirteen years?"

"Fourteen," I corrected him. "But yeah, s'right. Got it from a friend of 'is, Wing Commander Rose." Dom raised an eyebrow. "Wing Commander?"

"Yeah," I said. "Didn't ya know my pops was in the mils?"

"'Course I did," he said. "That was stupid. Never mind. So, 'sup?"

"Not much," said Clue, "Other than Given's little problem. What 'bout you, Dom?"

"Ah, the usual. Serve customers, get paid, go home. Oh yeah — someone broke in the other day." He said it in a flippant tone, but we knew Dom too well to be fooled by it. We obligingly let out shocked gasps, pretending that every unemployed kid in the neighbourhood didn't know who did it: Les Kent, better known as Wall. Almost definitely, anyway. He did most of the juvie crimes around here, like break-ins, pick-pocketing and vandalism. Occasionally he did joyriding in stolen cars, but not often. His theft 'tutor' — Tan Brooks — got in the slammer a few months back. "Yeah," Dom was saying. "But they didn't takes much. Just broke in the back 'n' stole some alcohol. They reckon it's connected with the stoled car the coppers found afterwards.

Colin rolled his eyes at me so Dom couldn't see and mouthed "Les". Lils exclaimed over Dom's story, enough that the rest of us didn't have to. Dom paid the most attention to Lily anyway.

"OI!" bellowed a voice from behind the counter. "Are ya gonna sit there gossipin' all day!?" Dom grimaced apologetically at us. "I 'ave a feelin' my break's over," he said.

"'Kay, Dom. See yas."

"Yeah, see yas guys." He grinned, then suddenly swooped down and kissed Blue on the cheek. She slapped at him playfully; he ducked to avoid her hand then returned to the counter, leaving Lils blushing spectacularly and fighting to keep a smile off her face.

"Woo, Lils."

"Shu'up, Lexi." I knew she wasn't really angry.

"Well finally," said Colin. "I was gettin' tired of him continually droppin' hints."

"C'mon, let's clear out," I said. "Boss's givin' us The Eye." Lils glanced at Dom's boss, who was giving us dirty looks. He'd never liked us — he reckoned we would "lead Dominic astray".

"Yeah, let's go," said Colin, jumping up. The rest of us stood as well, and saluted at Dom as we went out.

We came across a small crowd down by Southmarlin Road. "What's goin' on?" I wondered out loud. "A fight," replied some other kid I vaguely recognized from around town. "Oh, I bet it's Wolfie and Swift," said Clue. "Wolfie said Swift stole from him. He was boastin' 'bout how he was gonna teach 'im a lesson." As we pushed through the crowd — most of whom pushed right back — we saw that Clue was right. Wolf and Swift — whose real names were Derek and Mick — were standing almost nose-to-nose and shouting at each other.

"Liar! You took it, I know you did! Hand it over!"

"I never took ya freakin' thing, so I couldn't give it back, could I? Get outta my way!"

Swift was an OK guy. I reckoned he was nice. But he was also the most notorious pick-pocket this side of town, so Wolfie probably had the right of it. He definitely had the brawn to back it up — Swift's only chance, really, was to run away, but the crowd encircling him were here for a fight, and by hell they were gonna get one.

Wolf'd hoicked Mick up by his collar, and Mick was trying to kick Wolfie's shins. Excitement rippled through the onlookers. "Dollar on Wolfie," Colin whispered to Albert.

"You're on."

The chant started up from the crowd, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

And suddenly they were fighting. Wolfie's fists flailed, and Swift dodged as best he could — but the crowd shoved him back at Wolf whenever he came too close to the perimeters. Wolfie got a punch in, and Swift stumbled back, looking winded. They tussled for a minute, before Wolfie suddenly yelped and doubled over, clutching his groin.

"Ooh," said the crowd with one voice. Then Swift was reeling, hand flying to a bloodied nose. The onlookers hissed in through their teeth sympathetically.

Wolfie got a few more punches in, and eventually Swift was curled up on the road. Wolf kicked him and roared "Give 'em back!" before the copper grabbed him from behind. "That's enough!" he bellowed. There was a hastily stifled groan from the crowd. "Go 'ome, all of ya," said the copper. "Show's over." I looked around and saw coins and bills being passed from hand to hand, and when the crowd had dispersed a bit, I went to see how Mick was doing.

"Y'OK, Mick?" I asked, kneeling down. He sat up, groaning, and put his sleeve under his red-dripping nose. "Been better," he said, squinting through an eye that was already beginning to blacken. "True," I said, helping him up. "So did ya steal from Wolfie or not?"

"Yeah," he admitted easily. I rolled my eyes. "Hey," he sounded a bit hurt and defiant. "I ain't gonna feel guilty 'bout stealin' what was stoled in the first place. 'E got it from the Wall, and you can bet he didn't pay for it, cain't ya?"

"Ya can," I said, "But ya can also bet that stealin' from the Wolf is a bad idea, no matter hows 'e got the stuff. What'd ya steal, anyhow?"

"Liquor 'e was tryna sell ta the junies." I pricked my ears. "Junies? How old?" Mick shrugged. "Dunno… 'bout ten, maybe? Eleven?" I frowned. That was low, even for the Wolf. He must be really, really tight on dough.

"Well, I'm off," Swift's voice cut through my thoughts. "Later, Given."

"Right. Later, Mickey." He flicked the gun fingers away from his forehead at me and ran off. I turned back to the others, who were milling on the sidewalk, and we quickly ran off, trying to ignore Mickey's bloodstains on the road.