Just as Midnight sold her last pape, she heard a commotion behind her. Turning quickly, she took in the scene before her. About fifty yards ahead, a woman was crying out to a nearby police officer. Beside her, a young boy was frozen stiff holding a small purse.
"Rookie," Midnight muttered. But as she looked closer at the thief, she recognized the horrified face. She sprinted towards the boy and pulled him into the alley just as the police officer started towards the scene.
"What are you doin'!" the boy screamed at her.
She glanced behind her, and to her misfortune, the police officer was hot in pursuit of them. "RUN you idiot!"
They ran through the alley, running into the open street beyond it. Dodging apple sellers, they pushed through the townspeople. In the opposite alley, Midnight grabbed hold of the fire escape and pulled the ladder down and the boy crawled up. Midnight followed, and once they were both on the rooftop, she pulled him through the door leading downstairs and they were covered in darkness. The dark was a good sign; it meant that the place was still as deserted as it had been when she left it.
Feeling her hands along the wall, she found the door to the top floor and it open. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Midnight saw everything was the way it had been the day ol' McSwain had captured her. She lit the candles using matches that she had stored years earlier under the loosened floorboard.
"Seven years," she muttered to herself, fingering the old books strewn across her mattress.
"Are you crying?" the boy questioned.
She had forgotten he was there. "No," she assured, drying her face with her sleeve.
He leaned over to look at her more closely. "You're the new girl, aren't you?" She glanced at him and nodded. "I'm Skittery." He stuck out his hand.
"I know who you are," she told him, refusing the hand. Midnight walked over to the mirrors that lined the walls of the old dance studio. It was hard for her to believe that it was so long ago that it was in front of these very same mirrors she had taken on her new life.
"Where are we?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She sighed. "I used to live here." She turned around and glared at the boy. "Why were you pick pocketing? You're a newsie, not a thief."
"Listen, you can't tell Jack about this. It was a one time deal. I was desperate."
"Yeah, well so was I," she yelled back at him. "I was desperate for survival. What are you desperate for?" she sneered.
Skittery shoved his hands into his pockets. "Abigail." Midnight grunted with disgust. "Her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to give her something she deserves."
"Her father's a lawyer, Skittery! You shouldn't have to get her anything."
"But, I want to show up her father. I want to get her something she'll like way more than anything he might get her. How do you know any of this anyway?"
"I make it my business to know!" She immediately regretted her words. She had told him too much.
He glanced sideways at her. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," she turned away from him.
Skittery grabbed her shoulders firmly and turned her around. "It didn't sound like nothing."
For a moment, Midnight's body became faint at his touch. She discarded the feeling quickly though, reminding herself of her past. "It was nothing," she spat back at him, regaining her composure.
He released his grip on her and stepped away. "It seams strange that a girl supposed to be sent to finishing school would have lived in a place such as this." Midnight bit her lip. "It seams I know a few things myself," he said coyly. "Don't tell Jack about my incident today and I'll keep your little secret, whatever it is."
"You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, huh?"
He grinned. "Exactly."
"Okay," she sighed.
A few minutes passed before Skittery broke the silence. "So are you going to tell me your real story or what?"
"I think I'll save that card for when it will work for my benefit. Come on," she said, picking up her things. "Let's get to Tibby's."
Midnight made a silent promise to return to the old apartment, then headed on her way.