The snow was coming down in huge flakes. Lorraine shuddered and pulled her tattered sweater tighter as an icy wind cut through the city. This was the coldest night since she had been living in the streets. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Her father had decided that their family should leave their home in Ireland and come to America, the land of opportunity. On the boat over, Lorraine's mother got sick so when the family arrived at Ellis Island, the officials refused her citizenship in the United States. Her father refused to leave her to die alone, but forced Lorraine to go on without them. He promised they would follow soon, when her mother got better. That was almost one year ago. Lorraine long since let go of the idea that they were still coming.

Lorraine was struggling to survive her first winter on the streets of New York. It was harder than she had anticipated and she was just looking for a place to get warm for even a few minutes. Unfortunately, it was late at night and everything had closed hours ago. She fought sleep, knowing that if it came in this cold, it would most likely bring death also. She was starting to lose hope on finding shelter of some kind when she heard faint music. Lorraine followed the sound to an abandoned factory. Peaking in a window, she saw a large group of kids gathered in a room lit solely by candles, causing eerie shadows to dance on the faces of the dirty children. She debated between going inside and risking trouble with these kids that she did not know, or staying out in the freezing cold. Lorraine convinced herself that if she stayed outside all night, she was sure to freeze to death, so she decided to risk this strange group of vagrants.

Lorraine crept around to the side door and slowly pushed it open. No one inside seemed to notice. She slipped in and quietly shut the door before the strong winter wind blew out the candles inside. She noticed the reason no one noticed her entrance. They were all entranced by the card game they were playing. After a minute, Lorraine recognized the game as poker. She had seen it played before, but had never played herself. The pile of money in the center of one of the games caught her eye. Now she understood why all of them were so intent of the game. They were gambling, and by the looks of them, they were probably betting their life savings on each hand.

God, I could use that money, she thought as she watched one of the younger boys happily claim the kitty he had just won. Figuring she could probably pick up on the rules of the game just by watching, Lorraine sat in the shadows, in the back of the group of boys that had gathered to watch also. She sat with rapt attention, trying desperately to learn the game so that she would be able to play, and hopefully win some money.

After a few hours, she felt ready to try the game herself. Two of the younger children, a boy about ten and a girl about thirteen, started asking around to start another game. Lorraine jumped at the chance to play. These two are so young, they can't be that good, she laughed to herself. The three sat down and were soon joined by a forth, a blond boy looking a little younger than Lorraine, probably about fifteen. The game began.

By the second hand, Lorraine had lost ten of the twelve cents she had been saving. The blond boy who had just won her money looked at her and smirked.

"I take it ya never played b'fore." His Scottish accent was heavy, but failed to mask the mockery in his voice. "Care ta play anudder hand? I could use th' money." Lorraine sneered at him and stood up.

"I must be getting' along," she said in a cold voice. She hated losing, but could tolerate it. Being mocked was something she would not stand for, however. She turned curtly and walked away. She laughed to herself when she overheard the two younger children scolding the blond boy for driving her away. They couldn't continue their game now that she had left. Serves him right, she thought. The rest of the night, Lorraine sat silently in the shadows, watching the players, trying to learn the game better.

The group grew smaller with each passing hour. Soon there was only a handful of people left. Lorraine stood up to leave, figuring it was time to find a place to sleep. She reached for the handle of the door when suddenly it swung open in front of her.

"Hey dere!" A short boy with dark hair and a heavy New York accent strolled into the room, greeting everyone at once. His eyes appeared to be skimming the room, stopping on an unfamiliar face. "And who might you be, dollface?" he turned to Lorraine. "I ain't neva seen you heah before."

"I'm no one of importance," Lorraine said quickly as she brushed past him, her hand skimming his vest pocket. She quickly exited and ran a few blocks before stopping to look at her prize. While passing him, she managed to swipe two dimes out of his pocket. I may not be very good at poker, but I'm still the best pickpocket, she thought with a smile. She made her way to the train station, remembering that it was open all night long and people sleeping there was not particularly unusual.

The next day, Lorraine awoke to an old man nudging her.

"Which train are you waiting for, miss?" he asked. Lorraine groaned softly and pretending not to understand.

"No English," she said with a confused look on her face. The old man sighed and walked away. Lorraine checked her pocket to make sure her twenty-two cents were still there and made her way out of the station. Not knowing what else to do, she wandered around and eventually sat on the corner outside of a church and begged for money. By the time evening rolled around, she had gathered thirty cents.

"I know exactly where to go now," Lorraine thought. First she stopped by a market and bought a couple apples. With her remaining fifty cents, she headed to the racetrack. Let's hope I'm better at betting than I am at poker, she thought as approached a sign reading 'Sheapshed Races'. Lorraine followed a small group of men to the betting window. She glanced over the horses' names and decided to bet on a horse named Last Chance. She took the betting receipt and read over it.

"Hey wait, you put the wrong name on this! I wanted ta bet on Last Chance and this says Racer's Delight!" Lorraine complained to the man behind the counter.

"Look kid, you placed your bet right before the race started. I can't change it now that the race has already started, so why don't you go sit your pretty little bum down and hope that you win." The man said in an annoyed tone. Lorraine was willing to continue fighting with him, but knew that she had no chance of winning the argument, so she walked away to watch her race.

A few seconds after she sat down, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Excuse me, but I think you owe me some money."

"Why the hell would I owe you money?" Lorraine could not believe that another person was looking to pick a fight with her. She turned around and saw the dark haired boy from the night before.

"You owe me the money you stole from me!" he exclaimed.

"How dare you accuse me of stealing! I've never even seen you before!" Lorraine was growing nervous. What if this boy called the police on her? Judging from the numerous betting tickets in his hand and the gold chain hanging from his pocket, he seemed well off, which meant that the bulls would believe him over her. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to watch my race now!" she continued. She turned around just in time to see Racer's Delight win the race. I won, she thought with elation.

"I know you stole money from me!" the boy was not willing to drop this. Lorraine turned to face him again. She had an idea.

"What horse did you bet on?" she asked.

"Last Chance. What difference does it make you to?" he answered in a nasty tone.

"Look, I admit that I did steal from you last night, but I just won this bet, so how about I give you some of my winnings and we can it even?" Lorraine offered. "Just please don't call the police." The boy looked confused, but agreed to the offer. He followed her as she claimed the five dollars she won.

"Here's a dollar of my winnings. Can we call it even now?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah shoa," he was obviously amused by her nervousness. "Don't think I like ya now that you've paid me back."

"I gave you more than I stole from you!" Lorraine protested.

"But you still stole from me. What makes ya dink dat I got money that you can be stealin' from me?" he was growing angry again.

"I paid you back and that's the end of it." Lorraine walked away, happy to be away from the source of her annoyance.

"Hey wait!" He called after her. "What's your name, kid?" She paused, questioning if she should tell him her real name.

"Mickie," she called over her shoulder. Mickie, short for Michaela, had been her mother's name.

"Now I can warn oddas ta watch out for ya!" he laughed as Lorraine fumed.