Wow it's been literally 8 years since I've last updated...I'm so sorry guys! Life's been pretty crazy, especially with applying to colleges and trying to get through the first semester of senior year. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3!

When I woke the next morning, it was to the sounds of traffic in the streets and the clopping of horse-drawn carriages. My sleep-crusted eyes popped open one after the other and in the few seconds it took for me to wake up I realized that I was not in my own room. I was in someone else's.

I was alone in someone else's room.

My head shot off the pillow like I'd been shot from a cannon. Spot's bed was empty and light was streaming through on the of the windows leading out to the fire escape.

I cursed everything under the sun as I threw off the covers and streaked into the bathroom, checking my reflection only once to make sure I still looked like a boy.

I yanked Spot's bedroom door open and flew down the stairs, almost smacking into the wall opposite me as I rushed. I had no idea what time it was and no clue if the boys had already left me.

In my haste I nearly ploughed someone over. I looked up into sparkling, mischievous green eyes that smirked down at me.

"You'se a deep sleeper, John," Spot said, his morning bass voice a soothing rumble in my ears.

"Are all the papes gone?" I asked in a panic, my heart beating wildly. I couldn't be kicked out of here. I had nowhere else to go, at least nowhere where I wouldn't be investigated.

"There might still be a few," he replied, leaning forward on his cane. "By the way, you were sayin' some strange things in your sleep last night."

I instantly felt my face drain of blood. My neck felt hot and my hands went all clammy. "What did I say?"

Spot cocked his head to the side. "You'se don't go nothin' to hide, do ya?"

I felt my eyes dart from his face to the closest exit, a door that was ten feet away. I could make it. I could run to Manhattan, or Queens, or-

"I'm just teasin' ya, John, no need to look all worried 'bout it. Ya just mumbled a bit is all," Spot said, his smirk returning full force. "Now get your ass outta here and sell your papes 'fore they run out."

I gave him a curt nod and scampered out of the room, breathing a huge sigh of relief while my heart still pounded like a hammer.

I was just able to purchase some papes, getting there almost when they closed the window. Then I ran out onto the street, pulling my hat down lower over my face just in case. My fingers itched as I watched people pass by, and I wondered if anyone would notice if I made a little extra by pickpocketing…

I stood there, unsure of myself as the rising sun beat down on my back. I saw a few other newsies up and down the street, but all I could see were their fists in the air, holding newspapers up and their mouths moving in shouts.

I glanced at the headline on my page and decided to give it a go. "Um, Man"-my voice was scratchy and I cleared my throat-"Man Wounds Deer with Dogs During a Hunt!"

I shouted for about thirty minutes but only sold about 3 papes total. My mouth screwed shut and I scowled at the front page. "Couldn't have come up with somethin' a little more interesting?" I mumbled to the paper.

"Hey, ya look like you could use some help," a voice said from beside me. My head whipped to the left and I saw one of the boys that was in the water that morning, the one talking 'bout a girl he was gonna meet. His cap was half hanging off his head and his pants were a little too short for him, considering his height. He had at least a foot and a half on me.

"Yeah," I said. "First day and not sure how ya sell these so fast."

He gave me a wicked grin. "You'se gotta make stuff up, see." He grabbed my paper and glanced at the headline. "Makes it more interestin', and people buy it. Watch." He held up the paper in his hand and yelled, "Wounded deer attacks man but is stopped by his loyal dogs!" He shouted it several more times and soon enough, one at a time, people stopped to buy a paper and put some money in his hand. After a few minutes he turned back to me, smilin'. "You try."

I glanced down at some of the bilines on the paper. "Snake causes young girl to go blind!" I cried, waving the paper around. The boy stayed with me the whole time, watching as I sold all my papes in an hour or so. The actual headline went something like: Blind Girl Given a Trip to Zoo to See New Snake Enclosure.

"The name's Legs," he said, sticking out his hand to shake mine. "Pretty self-explanatory name, I guess."

I let out a hearty laugh and he smiled, awkwardly shifting on his feet. "My name's John."

He cocked an eyebrow. "John? No nickname yet?"

I shrugged. "First day, I guess. I just hope I don't get anythin' embarrassing."

"There was a boy who left last year and his name was Dump, cause he'd leave one in the privy every day and we couldn't go in there for an hour afterwards. Can't get any worse than that," Legs replied.

Suddenly a sharp whistle went up from a corner down the street and a few of the newsies perked up, following the sound. Legs turned his head to watch.

"That'll be the lunch whistle," he said. "We all get lunch and then do whatever we feel like. Most boys waste away the days at Medda's. I'm headed there myself. You comin'?"

My fingers twitched and I shook my head. "I'll be there in a bit. Don't wait for me."

"Okay," he said, givin' me a two fingered salute. "See ya later."

When he had disappeared into the crowd of people, I turned the opposite way and started walking, checking out the men I passed. They all had their coats wrapped tightly around them, and I knew taking anything from them could get me caught. My eyes zeroed in on a man walking my way checking a pocket watch, his coat blowing a little in the breeze. He looked lost in thought as he slid the watch in his pocket with his right hand. As a pickpocket I learned how to tell which pocket most likely held the valuables. With any luck, his wallet would be in that pocket as well.

I started jogging toward him, laughing as if I was being chased by a sibling or something. I was short enough I could pull off a twelve year old boy, and my "pre-pubescent" voice helped a lot. I calculated my steps carefully and bumped into the man, knocking his shoulder fairly hard.

"Sorry, sir," I said, sliding my hand in and out of his pocket like I'd practiced my whole life.

With that, I took off and rounded the corner, running along the side of the street to avoid most of the people. I ducked into an empty alley so I could check the items clenched in my fist, and eagerly released the objects.

In my palm sat the small silver pocket watch, as well as a small beat-up leather wallet. I opened it and found several coins. Excitedly I counted them and my heart leapt in my chest. 70 cents! That was enough to buy my papes the next day and get a few extra things! I almost squealed. I'd hit the jackpot!

I turned to bring my stolen goods back to the lodging house so I could stash them, but as I looked up I saw the face of Legs, his arms crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed.

"And where'd ya get them fine trinkets?" he asked, but his tone of voice told me he already knew.

"I...found them on the side of the street. Someone musta dropped 'em," I said.

"How'd ya manage to get them outta his pocket wit' out him knowin'?" he questioned, moving a little closer to me.

No use trying to pretend I did no such thing. He already knew. I deflated a little bit. "I, uh, just slipped my hand in an' took it."

Legs stared at me for a few more heart pounding seconds before his face broke out in a smile. "I knew you'se was up to somethin'! I followed you and saw you'se bump right into that man."

I shrugged. "I have a lot of practice, I guess."

"That's a lot of silver ya got. Feel like sharin'?" He held out his palm and hesitantly I flipped him a coin, hoping it would buy his silence.

"Silver, I like it," he mused. "I think that should be you'se new name. Gotta talk to Spot."

I looked down at the stolen goods in my hand and then a quick glance behind me to make sure no one was comin' after me. "Um, Legs, why don' we head back? I don't want any bulls after me."

Legs nodded. "I'm actually goin' to Medda's this time. Wanna tag along?"

I broke out in a grin. "Yeah, let's go."

When we arrived at the brick building several blocks from the lodging house, all the lights were on. It was afternoon but tons of people streamed into the club. I glanced down at my simple pants and shirt.

"Were we s'pposed to dress up?" I asked nervously as we approached the entrance.

"Nah," Legs said, giving me a hard slap on the back. "All us newsies come after work all the time. Medda don't mind. Come on, ya gotta meet 'er."

He yanked my shirt and dragged me toward the door, pushing a few people out of the way in order for us to get through.

It was like entering another world. The atmosphere changed to crowded and noisy, but the exciting kind. I heard laughter and looked around, seeing several tables with newsies all around them, playing cards and placing bets. Past the bar area sat a small stage, where a woman in a suggestive dress sang sultry songs to drunk boys near her. Glasses clinked and people shouted, causing a mind-numbing ruckus where you could hardly focus on anything else.

Legs brought me to one of the far tables, and as we drew closer I could see Spot sitting in the middle of a group of newsies, a smug smile on his handsome face, his feet up on the card table, and a cigar in his lilting mouth, clearly having just won a hand. He slapped his cards down and let out a triumphant whoop. His eyes found Legs and I and he waved us over.

Spot slapped Legs on the back and pulled out an extra seat on his left. Ace was slouched in a spot to his right, and he gave me a onceover as I passed him. He sensed something off about me, I could just tell. I needed to be more careful.

There were no more spots available so I awkwardly stood behind Legs' chair, watching as a new game began. Some women came and served drinks, which the boys eagerly downed. I was offered one but waved it away. I was a very honest drunk-I found out after drinking some of my father's liquor once-and there was no way I was going to possibly spill the only thing keeping me out of jail.

Eventually a bigger woman in a beautiful dress bustled over, a pleasant smile on her face. "Boys, how are ya? The girls treatin' you right?" She winked at a few of the newsies.

"How ya doin', Medda?" Spot asked in response.

"I'd be better if ya got your filthy boots off my nice, clean table," she said with a hard look in Spot's direction.

Cowed, Spot grudgingly slid his feet one at a time off of the surface and back to the floor.

Satisfied, Medda gave him a nod and turned toward me. "Have I seen ya here before? I don't recognize your face."

I shook my head. "No ma'am."

"Well, what's your name, son?" She prodded, coming closer and pulling me into an embrace. I was painfully aware of my wrapped breasts pressed up against her free ones. She wouldn't be able to feel them, would she?

"The name's John, but they call me Silver," I replied, stepping back from the hug self-consciously.

Medda was oblivious to my discomfort. "Welcome to the newsies, my boy!" She boomed, lifting her arms. "I'd best be heading back to my girls, but enjoy yourself and come back again soon," she said, patting my shoulder

Feeling out of place, I sat uncomfortably through five games of cards before I leaned over and murmured to Legs, "I'm gonna head back to the lodging house." He gave me a nod and I stood, heading toward the door. Squeezing past people who were packed like cattle, I turned my head and caught the stare of Spot Conlon, his eyes piercing through mine. Instantly I tore my gaze away, pushing through the crowd until I was able to walk out the front doors. The heat of the afternoon was almost a relief after being crammed in Medda's for an hour.

Though it's where I told Legs I was going, I didn't feel like being alone at the lodging house for three more hours before the boys decided to come back. So I went the opposite way, heading for the last place I thought I'd want to go.

It only took me thirty minutes to arrive at the police station. I didn't want to go inside an' risk recognition, so I snuck quietly around the corner of the building to the rec yard where a ton of male inmates were scattered around, playing cards, smoking, and sitting in the sun. The metal fence that surrounded the yard glinted in the light, causing me to squint my eyes. Easily I was able to find my father. He was sitting alone, watching the other inmates pass by. I knew his game. He was sizing them up, trying to see who might be the easiest to steal from.

Immediately I did the same, studying the posture of each man and seeing if they protected certain areas. Usually the ones with confidence who didn't bother protecting their pockets had what we wanted.

That man, I thought to myself. The one in the corner.

The man was surrounded by a group of other men, his chest puffed out and his arms gesticulating as he recounted some dramatic story. I watched as my father stood and made his way slowly toward the man, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground. Biding his time, he waited until the man had his arms up in a theatrical retelling before casually bumping into him.

"Pardon me," my father said. To the untrained eye there would've been nothing out of the ordinary, but I saw the quick flash of his hand as he slid it in and out of the man's pocket.

"Watch where you're headed," the man spat, unaware of the theft. My father lowered his head in mock humility as he passed, waiting until he was out of eyeshot before taking out the contraband cigarettes and lighting up with a few other men.

My heart ached. If only there was some way to break him out. His sentence wasn't terribly long-only six months. But until he was free, I'd have to stay hidden. I couldn't have the police finding me as well. Who knows what would happen to me in prison?

With one final look at my only family left, I turned away from the scene and made my way back to the lodging house the long way. I walked down alleys and backstreets that hid me from the public. Even though I had on a boy's disguise, my face still looked relatively like the wanted posters and I didn't want to expose my face if I could help it in case someone tried to follow me.

I knew I should check in on my mother as well, but I didn't have to heart to see both my parents in one night. I could drop off the cash to my mother's doorstep in the morning before I sold my papes.

I could imagine her sitting at our kitchen table, a cup of hot tea in her hands as she stared out the window, hoping I would come home and at the same time hoping I never showed my face again for fear of the police.

The best thing you can do for both your parents is stay out of jail, I told myself. You can't get your father out if you're behind bars with him.

I pulled my coat tighter around my small frame. If I saved my money and barely spent anything on food, I would only need to stay for a couple months with the newsies before I could post bail for my father and then move all of us out of here. We could start over in a new city, lay low for a while. We could make it.

By the time I got back to the lodging house, I could see that most of the boys were starting to return from Medda's, staggering around with their arms around each other, and singing-more like slurring-drinking songs in loud voices.

I walked through the front door and tried to ignore the boisterous laughter of the newsie boys. I was in no mood for games. I thought I heard someone call my name, but I hurried past the dining room filled with card players and headed up the stairs to Spot's room.

As I pushed open the door and saw the empty room, I hated myself for my sudden urge to cry. In just a few days, I had lost my family and was completely alone to fend for myself in a world where people would want to exploit me and my gender.

You will pull yourself together. Newsies don't cry. If anyone saw you, you'd be discovered.

I pulled my features into a scowl and stripped off my coat, throwing it next to my cot on the floor and sitting down to remove my mud-caked boots.

Then the bathroom door opened, and Spot sauntered out, only a towel around his waist and almost obscenely low on his hips.

My mouth went dry as I took in his chest, still glistening with droplets of water from what I assumed was the shower. His wet hair fell into his face, almost hiding his eyes as his gaze found mine.

"Evenin', Silver," he said casually, walking over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of underwear and a night shirt. "Enjoy your night wanderin' the streets?"

I took a second to find my voice. "Yeah, decided to go for a walk to clear my head." Then I realized what he'd called me. "I assume Legs asked you about my nickname."

"He told me about your activities. It suits you," he replied, reaching for the knot on his towel. Immediately I averted my gaze, and my cheeks flushed as I heard the sound of the damp cloth hitting the floor. "If ya gonna be stayin' here long term, you should have a name. Silver's better than the names I was coming up with." In this last sentence I could hear the teasing smirk in his voice.

"I don't think I wanna know," I said, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. I had no idea how to act around Spot. I was afraid if I said too much, he'd figure me out. I was afraid if I said too little, he'd figure me out. He seemed too perceptive to not see that I wasn't the average boy off the streets.

"Stop fidgetin', I ain't gonna interrogate you. Plenty of boys in this house got stories they're not too fond of sharin'. As long as you're no danger to me or my boys, I won't ask questions." Spot moved into my line of sight-finally decently dressed-and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not a danger, are ya?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Well then," Spot said, heading toward the lamp near his bed and clicking it off, leaving us in darkness, "I'm gonna retire early tonight. Got a meetin' with Manhattan tomorrow. Try not to wake up late again, why don't ya?"

With a cheeky grin, he fell backwards on his bed and threw his blanket over his lower half, his back to me. I busied myself by getting under my threadbare covering and praying for the second night now that my hat didn't come off while I slept.

"'Night, Silver."

"Night, Spot."