Well, I started walking, going towards my own house, but it was reluctantly, I'll tell you that. Once we reached the darkness of the doorway, I reached inside

the neck of my shirt, and pulled out the chain with the key.

I fumbled to unlock the door, and then stepped inside.

Neither one of the guys said anything, so I preempted them with a little bit of attitude.

"There's no use trying to turn on the lights," I told them.

"Hmmm," Micky said.

"Do ya have a flashlight around?" Davy asked.

"Yeah. I'll get it." I inched forward in the dark room towards the couch where I'd slept at last night. I fumbled around between the cushions until my

hand closed on the flashlight that I'd left there. I switched it on, and shined the light around the room.

"Home sweet home," I said, and I knew I sounded bitter.

"How long has the electric been off?" Davy asked.

"A couple of days."

"Let me have that," Micky said, reaching out to take the flashlight from me. He walked on and I could hear him opening and closing the

refrigerator and the kitchen cabinets.

I heard a thumping in the pipes, and knew he was checking to see if there was water.

When he came back to where Davy and I were standing, he had matches and a candle from the cabinet. He lit the candle and set it on the coffee table.

There was a minute or two of uncomfortable silence.

"No food and no water," Micky informed Davy.

"Beth," Davy said, in a drawn-out sad voice.

I went to flop down on the couch, feeling as though I could burst into tears at any moment.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Davy asked.

I pressed my lips together, and was silent.

"That doesn't matter right now," Micky said, sounding practical.

"Right," Davy agreed. And then, he rubbed his hands together, and started issuing commands.

"Go and get some clothes together," he told me. "Hairbrush, and toothbrush, and all of that."

I sat there, staring at him in the candlelight.

"No," I said.

"What?" Davy asked, sounding puzzled.

"No," I repeated. "I won't go to the social services office."

"Beth-" Davy began.

"I won't go to foster care!" I said fiercely. "I have to be here so Gramps can have a place to come home to!"

"Your grandfather can't come here, with no electric and no water, now can he?" Davy pointed out. "Just getting out of hospital, is this

what you want for him?"

"Of course not! I'll figure something out!"

"I'll bet you can," Micky said, sounding calm. "But not tonight you can't."

"Micky's right," Davy said. "So go on now and get your things together. We won't leave you here by yourself."

"I thought you guys were my friends!" I hurled at them, feeling as if I had no emotional strength left.

"Of course we are," Davy said.

"Friends wouldn't take me to where I'd be shipped off to some lame foster home!"

Micky shined the light of the flashlight onto my face. "Who said anything about goin' to foster care?" he demanded.

"Right," Davy chimed in. "I didn't say that. Did you, Mick?"

"Nope," Micky offered. "Not me."

Even at that moment, it struck me how funny they were.

"Well, what then?" I asked tentatively.

"You'll come along with us back to the pad," Davy said. "You can stay there until we figure all this out."

I held my breath, hardly daring to hope.

"For real?" I asked.

"For real," Davy affirmed. "Now get cracking, and go get together anything you want to take with you."

"Okay," I said, and took the flashlight from Micky, hurrying to my room and grabbing some jeans and t-shirts, another pair of

shoes, and my pajamas. Then I hit the bathroom, scooping up my hairbrush and toothbrush, going back out to the living room, and

stuffing it all into my backpack. I remembered something and went back to my bedroom, reaching into a dresser drawer and pulling out

my wallet. It's old, and nearly falling apart. The five dollars I had left was tucked inside, and a couple of pictures of Gramps and I that were taken when I was

younger.

Both of the guys had gone to stand outside the front door, and I went out to stand beside them.

"I'm ready," I said, after I'd pulled the door shut.

"Let's go," Micky said, and we were halfway down the sidewalk when a door nearby was thrust open, and light shown outside.

"Well, well," she said. "You did come back."

I stopped so suddenly that I nearly plowed into Micky, and Davy nearly plowed into me.

"I'm surprised you have the nerve to come back around here," she ranted on.

Davy stepped in front of me. "I'm Davy," he said. "And you are?"

"I'm Leticia Shields. I own this property," she said, and gestured toward my house.

"You're a bit young to be bringing men around, aren't you?" Mrs. Shields went on, and I felt my face flame

at her filthy insinuation.

"There'll be no talkin' of Bethie that way," Davy said, in an angry tone.

"Who are you to tell me what's what?" Mrs. Shields demanded, sounding outraged.

"We're her brothers," Davy said, without missing a beat.

"That's right," Micky chimed in.

"Really?" Mrs. Shields said, plainly disbelieving.

"And she's coming with us right now," Micky went on.

Mrs. Shields shrugged in the dim light. "No skin off my nose," she said. "I'll be glad to have the brat out from underfoot. She and that

grandfather of hers owe me a month's back rent."

"There's some things of Gramps that are still inside," I said, in a low voice, and Micky spoke up,

"We'll be back in the morning to clear out the rest of the stuff," Micky told her.

"I don't have to allow you back in at all," Mrs. Shields threatened.

"But you're goin' to," Micky said, with an edge to his voice.

"I suppose," she said, and shut the door with a slam.

"Whew," Micky said.

"She's a charmer," Davy added, and I had the urge to giggle.

We walked back to the pad, and none of us said a darn word.

MMPD