Part Two Malachy looked at his hand. The other boys involved in the poker game were doing the same, so while their attention was elsewhere, Malachy slipped the ace of spades out of his sleeve and into his hand. Unfortunately for him, someone noticed.

"Hey, Malachy, whatcha got there?" twelve-year-old Racetrack Higgins asked, a cheap cigar hanging from his lips.

"N-nothin', Race," Malachy stammered, clutching his cards.

"Nothin', eh? Well, ya shouldn't have no prollem wit me lookin' at yer hand," Race said, snatching the cards from Malachy.

Making a face, Race grinned wickedly. "Fellas, I think we got ourselves a cheater here," he declared.

"Eh, get outta the game, Cheater!" ten-year-old Jack Kelly ordered, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Several of the other boys agreed that Malachy should drop out of the game, so he did so, thinking to himself that he shouldn't have even tried slipping that ace.

Falling onto his bunk, Malachy propped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Eventually, his thoughts wandered home. In the two years that had passed since he had left, the pain was still as strong as ever. Malachy sqinted his eyes closed in an effort to keep the stinging tears at bay, but failed. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, unwilling for any of the other boys to see him crying.

After a long while, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, ah, Cheater, time to buy evening edition."

"All right, Race," he groaned, waiting for the other newsy to leave before pulling himself up off the bunk.

Malachy hid his tear-stained face as he made his way to the washroom to splash it with cold water. He looked in the mirror at himself. His eyes were still bloodshot from tears, but he couldn't make that go away, so he just shrugged and went downstairs, exiting the lodging house and heading toward the distribution center. Purchasing thirty newspapers, he headed off to sell alone.

"Extra, extra! Man finds goliath toad in apartment!" he yelled, unable to come up with anything more convincing.

No one bought a paper on that headline. Malachy scanned the paper and found a real one. "Murder on West 57th street! Read all the horrifying details!"

He sold half his papers quickly with that headline alone, and then moved on to a new block using the same headline. Within half an hour, all his papers were sold, and he sat down on the sidewalk to think. For a moment he wondered what it might be like to go back home, just for a moment, to see his parents and his brothers. He wondered if his mother had had another baby, if his brothers still visited his sister's grave every day to give her fresh flowers. He wondered what they thought of him, their son, who killed his little sister and then was such a coward that he ran away from home. Malachy envisioned his parents running to him, embracing him, laughing and crying. But those thoughts soon turned to the opposite. What if he went home and his parents wouldn't talk to him? What if they were cold and hateful toward him, ignoring him and making him feel even more like it was indeed his fault that Annie had died? As those thoughts entered his mind, Malachy decided then and there that there was no way he could ever return home. Pushing the saddening images of his family away, he stood up, brushing his pants off, and made his way to a corner cafe to get dinner.

He sat alone in a corner booth. The waiter was very friendly. He smiled at Malachy. "Hello, there, young man. Haven't seen you in a while."

Malachy grinned. That restaurant, Eddie's Cafe, was his favorite place to go. But, for the past few weeks, he had been unable to make enough money to purchase his dinners there. "Yeah..." he answered the waiter, whom he'd never met before, only seen.

"I've seen ya around, kid," the waiter continued. "What's your name?"

"Malachy."

"Nice name. Irish, is it?"

Malachy shrugged. "I don't know. My parents named me."

The waiter laughed. "Well, Malachy, what can I get for ya?"

Malachy shrugged. "Oh, just a turkey sandwich and a glass of water, please."

"Yessir, comin' right up," the waiter grinned, winking, as he turned toward the kitchen.

Malachy sank down into the cushion and sighed. He was thinking about his family again. "I'll never see them again," he whispered to himself.

A single tear rolled down his cheek but he brushed it away defiantly. He had cried too many tears since he had come to the lodging house; he didn't want to cry any more.

A moment later, the waiter returned with Malachy's food. Malachy thanked him and ate his dinner, afterward returning to the lodging house.

He opened the door and entered into the lobby, seeing his friends sitting around, visiting. A new boy sat on the edge of the couch, having his ears talked off by Jack and Racetrack. Race looked up at Malachy.

"Hey, Cheat, we got a new guy. Beggar Johnson."

Malachy thought to himself for a moment. If he was never going back home, he was no longer Malachy. As he stuck out his hand to Beggar, he said, "Hi, I'm Ma - Cheater. Cheater Molloy."

THE END