I'm going to Arizona tomorrow, and I probably won't be able to post anything while I'm there, so I'm going to post a bunch of chapters today and see if anyone reads them.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3- Specs

Wednesday, September 15, 1999, 7:20 a.m.

"Anthony Edward Higgins, if you stop to pet another dog, I swear I'll make you regret it," reprimanded Specs. He dragged the sixteen-year-old who was mentally nine away from what had to be at least the fifth mangy mutt they had encountered on their way to school. The boys from the Duane Street Group Home were running late, despite Specs' efforts to get everyone moving.

After the obnoxious alarm at six in the morning, everyone besides Specs had gone back to sleep, forcing him to wake everyone up again thirty minutes later. At that point, Race had been alert, which Specs had hoped would be helpful, just this once. But Race had only been awake early because his hyperactive brain wasn't letting him sleep, so he was as chaotic as ever. Then, Albert had refused to wake up because he was busy with some dream make out session with a girl. Or maybe he'd been dreaming about eating a leg of lamb. Specs had not dwelled on it; he'd been more concerned with the actual waking of Albert, a task he had finally accomplished by shoving the ginger boy off of his bunk.

Albert had been less than pleased to be forced away from his lamb lady. He had taken his frustrations out on Henry, who'd been part way through one of his hour long showers. While Henry, forced out of the bathroom by the others, had stood dripping water on the hall floor while Race teased him for resembling a monkey, Specs had gone to check on Elmer. The younger boy wasn't getting ready for school, as he was preoccupied with a phone call from one of his many siblings. Specs had walked into Elmer and Henry's shared room, seen Elmer speaking rapid Polish into the phone, and promptly walked back out again.

Following that chaotic mess, a temporary reprieve came in the form of Crutchie, the new boy, who was ready for school and waiting in the doorway. But then Jojo had showed up, bearing six cups of coffee, two of which Albert had immediately chugged when he came out of the bathroom. Apparently, this meant that Race had no choice other than to drink two cups of coffee as well. Jojo, too startled to react, had not tried to prevent this action. They just left the tray of coffees and got as far away from the Duane Street apartment as possible.

The remaining drinks- after Specs commandeered them- had ended up going to Henry and Mr. Kloppmann, the kind old man who ran the group home, because the latter certainly deserved it for dealing with six teenage boys every day and Specs would never hear the end of it if the former didn't get something in his stomach before school started. Crutchie, it turned out, didn't like the taste of coffee anyway. Specs and Elmer, unfortunately, would have to deal with the absence of caffeine, though Elmer, unlike Specs, would complain about it.

At the present moment, the caffeine was only beginning to kick in, meaning that as they walked along, Albert became more energized, while Race grew more subdued. However, that didn't mean he suddenly stopped doing impulsive things like petting random dogs.

"It ain't my fault all da dogs like me so much," he pouted now, fiddling with the single strap on his school bag.

"Maybe dey likes ya 'cause ya smells the same as 'em!" Albert called from a few paces ahead, where he was jogging in place, waiting for the rest of the guys to catch up.

"Least I don't smell like sausage, da way Henry does!" Race yelled back, earned him several weirded out looks from passing strangers who had been minding their own business.

"Hey!" An offended Henry cried out from the back of the group. "That's only because I spends so much time 'round Elmer."

"I don't even like sausage," muttered Elmer, his thick Polish accent a stark contrast to the other boys' sharp New York ones. Specs could tell he was still pissed about not getting any of Jojo's coffee.

As the other boys continued to trade insults, Crutchie came up to Specs' side. "Is it like this every mornin', Specs?"

Specs laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. You can see why we neva' made plans ta go anywhere durin' the summer, can'tcha?"

Over the summer break, the boys were free to wake up whenever they wanted and do whatever they pleased. This usually meant sleeping in till noon and spending the rest of the day messing around, wandering the streets of Manhattan or bothering Mr. Jacobi, who owned a restaurant in the neighborhood. Some of the older guys, like Specs and Jack, had tried to prepare for scholarships to college, as well as study for the tests that would get them into schools if they hadn't already taken them. Sadly, their efforts never lasted long, due to the antics of the other boys. Once Jack had been convinced to abandon his work, others would follow until there was only Specs. He would join in because he didn't want to be left on his own, as well as to prevent the more idiotic members of the group from getting arrested.

"How do any a' you get away with this at school?" Crutchie asked. He and Specs watched Albert run around terrorizing innocent passerby before Specs replied.

"Oh, they got their ways. You sign up for the theatre class Jack was tellin' ya about?" Crutchie nodded. "Get ready for mass chaos, then. It all happens there."

The blonde boy's eyes widened. Specs could tell he was trying to imagine all the different ways "mass chaos" could occur. "I can't wait," he said softly, making Specs grin. This was why everyone, particularly Jack, liked Crutchie so much. He may have looked like an innocent child, but he liked trouble as much as any other fifteen-year-old boy. And he could get away with it, too, with that smile of his. Specs was sure of that.

The older boy pushed up his glasses, checked the time on his battered watch, and let his eyes drift toward Race, who was holding his bag up to his stomach. He rooted through it as he walked, finally pulling out a small pack of cigarettes. He took one out and stuck it between his teeth, dropping the box back into the depths of his bag. Race kept right on walking, occasionally taking the cigarette out of his mouth, fidgeting with it, then placing it back in its original location. He didn't light it. In the three years Specs had known Race, he had never once seen him light a cigarette. Specs had asked why, one time, but Race hadn't given him an answer.

"Eddie!" A young voice shouted, suddenly.

Race started. He looked around, trying to locate the owner of the voice. Specs noticed the short, brown-skinned boy sitting atop a porch railing waving at Race before Race himself did. The boy hopped off the railing and ran down the steps, coming to a stop in front of Race, who gave him a quizzical look as he tried to figure out who this kid was.

"Uh, sorry, I don't think I-"

"It's me, Romeo!" The boy interrupted.

A little bit of recognition dawned on Race's face. "Right, Romeo. From, uh..." his brow furrowed in confusion.

"We was brothers, rememba'? I was ten, an' you were twelve, stayin' in the same home as me. Don't tell me you's forgotten this pretty face." Romeo smiled, pointing at the corners of his mouth with both hands. Specs was immediately drawn to the dimples.

Race ran his hands across his head, messing up his curly blonde hair. Then he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and fidgeted with it. Specs knew he was trying his hardest to remember. Any memories Race had from when he was twelve were really fuzzy, Jack had explained once, after Specs had given the younger boy a crash course in seventh grade math, all of which it appeared he'd forgotten. Not forgotten in bits and pieces in a normal way, more like all of the information had vanished. Jack didn't know the exact reason for this, but he knew things about Race's past that none of the other boys did, and Specs knew not to pry. Anything that had happened to Race before Duane Street was Race's business.

"I'm sorry, kid," Specs told Romeo, seeing Race was lost in thought. "But I don't think he really-"

"Eddie," back in Race's teeth went the cigarette as he spoke, and the boy continued mumbling through it. "Some character from a romance novel you were reading had that name, an' ya started callin' me that when you realized it would work with my name."

"I knew ya remembered!" Romeo cried triumphantly, bouncing up and down. Race brightened immediately, pleased at having been able to recall something correctly, especially with his sleep-deprived, caffeine-affected brain.

"I rememba' you was always tryin' ta get me ta read those books," he teased.

"Yeah, an' ya neva' did!"

"Why read when there're more excitin' things ta do?"

"For knowledge, pleasure, escape," Specs listed.

"Specs, ya gotta 'preciate the simple things in life," said Albert, pretending to be wise as he walked backwards down the busy Manhattan sidewalk. "For example," he stopped for a second, plucking the cigarette out of Race's mouth. Then he took off running.

"Hey, that's mine!" Race cried, sprinting after the red haired demon.

"Race-" Specs tried to warn, but the chaotic pair of Albert and Race was already gone. He turned back to the rest of the group.

"I don't believe I caught your name, pretty boy," Romeo said, looking up at Specs with a flirtatious grin.

"Uh..." Specs was taken aback. He felt his cheeks heat up. "It's Samuel. Samuel Jordan. But most people call me Specs."

"Nice ta meet ya, Specs."

"So, you an' Racetrack, I mean, Anthony, er, Eddie?" Specs shook his head, having lost his train of thought. "I'm sorry, but that boy has way too many names."

"He does, doesn't 'e?"

"Anyway, you an' him were foster brothers?"

Romeo nodded. "He was only there for 'bout eight months, though, before 'e disappeared. S'pose tha's why he don' rememba' me much, huh?"

"Don't take it personally." He wanted to ask what Romeo meant by "disappeared", but it wasn't the right moment. "Race would lose his head if it wasn't attached," he said, instead of pressing the subject. Maybe Specs would ask Jack later. Anyway, Romeo would probably be too busy flirting to answer any questions. Not that Specs minded the flirting.

"ALBERT DASILVA, GIVE IT BACK!" Race roared from up ahead, so loudly it startled a flock of pigeons into taking flight, abandoning the popcorn they had all desperately been pecking at. Albert cackled, taunting Race by dangling the cigarette over his head before he ran away again.

In front of Specs, a short white girl with closely cropped dark brown hair sprung up from her spot at the top of an apartment building's steps. She slid down the thin metal banister, looking eager to join the chaos.

"Hey, fellas. What'd I miss?"

So, that's the Duane Street boys. Plus Romeo. If you want to find out who this girl is, proceed to the next chapter.

Please review and tell me what you thought!