Author note: I know it's short, but I really didn't want to put too much in this chapter.

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Irish was up all night, wondering what she would say to Ben if he were still in Harlem. She could imagine his face – those eyes; that smile – it put her in a daze. It was about four in the morning until she actually drifted off to sleep, not really dreaming of anything. Before Irish knew it Suds was shaking her awake.

"Hey, wake up sleepy head," Suds said as she threw Irish's sheets off her. "We got papes to sell."

Irish groaned against the light that blinded her sensitive vision. It felt as if she had dozed off just five minutes go. She rose up, hitting her head on the top bunk causing all the other girls to laugh.

"Ow," she said, rubbing her now sore head. Irish got to her feet and continued on to the washroom, getting dressed as she did so. She threw water in her face to fully wake herself up. Her reflection was rough – gray sags under her eyes and a noticeable frown. She looked terrible. Irish felt nauseous once she thought of seeing Ben. What would he think of her? How would he react? She was frightened by the thought.

Irish skillfully shoved her hair under her hat to make the impression that she were a boy…it was all that convincing. It was a good thing old people couldn't see sharply; otherwise Irish wouldn't sell one pape. She followed Suds down the stairs and out into the streets. Italy was waiting outside.

"Heya sis, you ready to – what happened to you?" Italy stared intently at his sister's face. She looked terrible.

"Nothin'," she mumbled, although Italy already knew the truth. She had been stressing over Ben.

"Well Spot and Rhy are waitin' for us. Best not keep 'em waitin any longer."

Irish followed Italy down the sidewalk and she immediately recognized Spot in his red suspenders and Rhy with that toothy grin. Rhy was a twin – his sister, Dusty, lived in Harlem. It was their family tradition to go out on your own at the age of 11 and take care of themselves. They separated years ago but they still spoke to one another.

Without another word the four of them headed off towards Harlem where Ben was hopefully waiting. Irish once again felt queasy.

Irish bit her lip and constantly glanced over her shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide under her warm sheets where nobody, not even Ben, could find her. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face him in such a vulnerable state. She wouldn't be able to handle it if there were another woman clinging to his arm.

"You okay, Irish?" Italy asked, a little concerned.

Irish nodded and struggled to keep a straight face. "I'm alright," she lied.

Italy rolled his eyes. He didn't say anything else but Irish knew he was worried about her. Even Spot continued to glance at her every now and then. When she caught him looking he hid his concern with a charming smile and an encouraging wink. He was constantly reminding her of Ben…Stop that, Rose! Irish told herself angrily. Nobody in this world could ever compare to Ben Almond.

Irish almost regretted saying that she loved Ben. She knew, deep down inside, that he didn't love her back. He treated her as if she were a child and she hated that the most. Irish clenched her fists that were hidden in her pockets.

The day was passing and it was nearly lunchtime when the group finally made it to Harlem thanks to a few generous rides. Irish's palms felt sweaty from the nervous butterflies in her stomach. Stay calm, she told herself. It'll probably do that egg-head some good to get a taste of the real world.

Spot stopped walking, as did the other boys, but Irish was too caught up in her thoughts to notice. Italy nearly jumped three feet into the air when Irish walked straight into him. She was caught by surprise and tumbled to the ground with a small shriek.

"Oh man!" Italy exclaimed.

Irish groaned in the dirt. She turned over on her back and stared at a rough hand extending out to her.

"You alright?" Spot asked as she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet.

Irish nodded. "Yeah, I think so," she said. "Way to go Italy!" she accused as she turned to her red faced brother.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. His eyes seemed to widen in shock at what he saw behind Irish.

Irish, confused with Italy's odd stare, turned around urgently. There he stood, glowing like a god, his feather-light hair blowing lightly in the breeze. There was just one thing missing - the girl Irish imagined to be with him.

"Ben," she said so lowly that nobody, not even herself, could hear.

Ben looked shocked and bewildered. "Pokah night already?" he asked, breaking the awful silence.

"Ben!" Rhy exclaimed with a laugh. "Damn, we was sure you was steppin' down. Ya see Spot, Cowboy was wrong. Looks like all great leadahs make a wrong."

Ben seemed to frown. "Not quite," he said. He stepped closer to the gang. "Jack ain't lyin', Rhy, I am steppin' down."

Irish's heart seemed to sink.