It's such a pretty little thing, isn't it? Brown, with spindly legs and an oddly shaped white spot. It's body is hard, yet oddly shiny, and the spider moves its legs so quickly as it spins its web. The thread is so long, so thin, and yet I know how much strength is in it.

I let the spider continue to spin, not minding its presence. Other boys - Snipe in particular comes to mind - would kill it, but I cannot bring myself to do so. I have considered the action, but I could no more kill this spider than harm a newborn child. It would be wrong.

Their voices are loud, but I ignore them. As intent as I am on watching the movements of the spider, some of their words drain through.

"..Jack, sometimes I don't know what to say to you-"

"You gotta watch it-"

"I got me a date tomorrow night!"

"You wan' me to soak you?"

"...so then the nail says to the wall, it says-"

"No way are you as fast as I am!"

"You doan' think of anyone but yourself-"

"You'd better believe it! An' she's a doll too, prettiest brunette I've ever seen-"

"I said shut up!"

"You doan' wanna mix with them, Snitch-"

"...and the window says, let's screw! Get it? Get it?"

"Met her, she works at the factory 'round the corner-"

"I can't do this anymore, Jack-"

"Fine, then! I'll race you tomorrow mornin', you scab!"

"Take it back!"

"I jus' doan' wanna see you hurt again-"

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard!"

"An' she kisses real good, too. I've never met no one like her before..."

"...keep your voice down, Jack, you fuckin' idiot..."

"They're bad people, really they are...I've heard-"

"Try this one, then. Knock, knock."

"Shut your mouth!"

"I could beat you with my legs tied together!"

"It's a bit scary, Blink...I like her so much..."

"Jack, please! Just try to understand-"

"...and there's drugs, too! Listen to me, Snitch...don't do this..."

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

"You wan' everyone to hear you?"

"How can you do this to me?"

Their sentences dribble into one another like the sweet sugary liquid at the bottom of a melted ice cream cone as it hits the warm cobblestones. It is so hot that I can hardly think. All I can do is watch the spider as it slowly moves, its every motion mesmerizing.

There are so many webs spun in this Lodging House, though they are invisible to the eye. We are all friends, brothers, really, though not by blood. Our lives are woven together so intricately that to attempt to pull away would mean certain death.

I sleep soundly that night, but when I wake up, one of my knuckles is swollen. There is a spider bite, huge and pink. It hurts so much that I can hardly move my finger.

The web is still there, in the corner of my bunk. Filled with rage, I tear it down, using my bare hands. I stomp over to the sink to wash the sticky web off of my hands.

I dress in a hurry, not bothering to shave. My face is scratchy with blonde stubble. I straighten my glasses and hide my oily hair beneath my cap. I have to get out of here.

As I leave, I brush past Racetrack, whose eyes are red. He glances through me to where Jack is sitting on his bunk, yanking his shoes on. Both have angry expressions on their faces. Race follows me down the stairs, but we don't speak.

We walk silently beside each other, he caught up in his thoughts, and I caught up in the pain produced by my throbbing knuckle. As we wait for the gates to open, I notice Mush jerk his head up as some girl walks past, a few feet away. Several of the guys catcall and take their hats off, and she smiles slightly. Mush walks up to her and they begin to speak. She has a round, cheerful face. Her hair covered, though I can see a few brown curls poking out from underneath. They seem to be very intent upon one another as they talk.

Blink frowns at the sight of the two and turns back toward the gate, yanking his cap lower over his good eye. He is not the only one who seems put out. Skittery keeps scowling. I notice that Snitch is conspicuously absent, but it really isn't unusual for the kid. Sometimes he wanders around early, trying to work his fingers into a few pockets before buying his papes.

Bumlets is talking to a small group of newsies, all who groan every time he pauses. I catch Snipeshooter rolling his eyes. He notices I'm watching and winks at me.

The gates open and Swifty darts in front of me, taking my spot in line. Specs follows shortly after, scowling as he sees Swifty has made it there first. He looks so angry that I don't bother to greet him. Specs is a nice guy, but he can fall into very bitter, black moods. Crutchy looks indignant as he waits in line, occasionally glaring at a small newsie beside him.

The air is hot with anger, especially as Jack pushes others out of his way until he ends in his customary spot. As I wait for my chance to buy papes, the pain in my finger becomes so intense that I pop my knuckle into my mouth, sucking on it, hard.

Race is at my elbow. "Somethin' wrong, Dutchy?" He asks sourly.

"Naw," I reply from around my finger. He snorts and turns away.

If only I had killed that fucking spider when I'd had the chance. Now it is loose somewhere in the Lodging House. If it bites me again, I swear, I will hunt for it in every inch of that godforsaken building. I need to be harder, less caring. I will last longer in this world if I do not care so much.

With a sigh I ask for twenty-five newspapers. I slap down the appropriate amount of coins and collapse, ready to pretend that I am perusing the headlines. I can't read very well, of course, but I can look at the pictures.

Jack scowls as I accidentally meet his eyes. I quickly look away, back down at the smudging ink of the paper. It's best not to cross Jack this early in the morning.

There's a new boy here, with what looks like his kid brother tagging along. Jack gets up and starts harrying him.

"Will ya spot me two bits, Race?" He asks slyly. The rest of us look up. Racetrack struggles to reign in his anger, and grudgingly flips Jack the required amount of money. All of us know Jack has more than two bits in his own pockets, but we say nothing.

The strands of the web pull us all so tightly together. The strands are sticky, as well, so that we cannot escape, even if we wanted to. But what would we leave for? This is a good life. This is better than anything I have ever known.

That night, I find the spider hiding in a sink, and I kill it.

I am surprised by how much better its death makes me feel.

I wash my hands and say nothing of the spider to the other boys. It is best if they do not know.