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Sketch peered around the corner of the boxes he had hidden behind that afternoon. It was evening now. He hadn't been hurt in the fusillade of gunshots, but had crawled away to safety. He had felt bad as he'd crawled away, but Wolf's voice echoed in the back of his head saying, "Everybody's gotta take care of hisself. Even if it's hard. Dat's jest what ya's gotta do." Sketch crawled behind the boxes and collapsed, his muscles aching from the adrenaline that had been racing through his body a moment before. He had tensed again as the Higgins boys came around to help the other members of the gang to safety. He had longed to shout out to them that he was behind the boxes and he was safe, but he didn't dare. As long as the boys didn't talk about him then he was alright. But otherwise, things might be different. The Higgins might come after him, as well as his sister. He didn't want that.

He didn't want her ruining everything. His sister had the most incredible sense of intuition. She could sense him a mile away most of the time. Her eyes could search anyone out that she was searching for. It would be a piece of cake for her to find him. But that was only if Sketch didn't outsmart her. That was not an option. He WOULD outsmart her. He could do it. He had to.

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