Chapter three:

"So, whadda ya wanna do?" I asked after about five minutes of silence.

"I dunno, what do you wanna do?" Spot answered. Great, this is gonna be another we-don't-know-what-ta-do day, isn't it.

"We're alone, in an empty lodging house, what is there ta do?" Not much, I know that already. But I don't want to leave because of all the guys I want to avoid that are unavoidable outside our LH.

"Well, we's could do de unthinkable," Spot said after a moment with a sly grin.

"NO, we couldn't, we shouldn't," I said, a smile touching my lips, also.

"But dere's nothin' betta ta do," he continued to persuade. And by-jove, frog-boy's done it.

"OK, we'll do it." At that point I start laghing. We stand up in unison and head over to one of the beds. I lift the mattress and Spot pulls out the slim brown box. It's Wood's private stuffs, he doesn't let anyone see it.

We all have our private stuffs. Mine is hidden under a floor tile in Spot's bathroom. Nobody knows that, but everyone knows where Wood's is. We are all sworn to never touch a newsboy's stuff without permission. Punishment would be given by Spot. What would he do to me? I mean, he can't do anything because I was only an partner in crime.

"Should we?" I ask again. I know we shouldn't, but I figure, he should have hidden it better. We just stare at the box for about two minutes, then Spot opens it.

Inside the box isn't anything too interesting. Just some pornography (big surprise) and old pictures, probably of old family. Tucked away in a bag in the corner is some money. Nice to know I'm not the only one saving for something.

"What do you think dat's for?" Spot said, referring to the money.

"Why should I know. It's not my money." This has proven to be boring, so we slip the box back under the mattress and leave it. "I think I'll go take a nap. Go do something else for a while."

"Why, ya wanna be left alone?" he said mockingly. I just nodded and I guess that was enough for him. "Eh, I'll go hang out with ol' Jacky-boy an' his newsies." He walked out casting a wave over his shoulder.

As soon an his footsteps disappeared down the stairs, I shot into his room and through the door that led to the private bathroom. I knelt down and lifted the tile.

I don't really have anything private, just a stash of money that I plan to use to get home. I pull out all the coins, most of which are pennies, and the four single dollar bills. I add the makings of the day to the pile and count it. It amounts to just over ten dollars, not quite enough for what I need.

I put everything back in the hole and put the tile back in place. I walk out back into Spot's room to take said nap. But before I even get to the bed someone says my name.

"Gidge," he says. I turn on my heal just to verify who was talking. I was right, it was Jack. "Where'd Spot go off to?" he continued, making it seem like he really didn't know that he'd left.

"What are ya doin' here, Jack?" I ask. He has no reason to be here, he wasn't invited.

"I jus' came ta see you, thought maybe you'd be a little lonely without Spot." Yeah, thought I was lonely, I believe him.(sarcasm)

"Well, Jack, I can take care of myself, an' I ain't lonely. So you can leave." I'm hoping that he'll leave with that, but instead he walks farther into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Gidge, baby, you know I've been so lonely eva since I lost Sarah." I don't like where this is going. "I was kinda hopin' that you might help keep me company." Really don't like this.

"Get outta my room," I say, backing away from him. He keeps coming closer until I'm up against the wall. "I said get out." Now I'm talking British talk. God help me if he notices.

He puts a hand on either side of my head, pinning me against the wall. I know I can't take him, not without Spot to help me. Stupid Spot, can't see that Jack, his best friend, wants me. He doesn't know to protect me.

"Now Gidge, tell me, honestly, what's Spot got dat I don't?" He keeps getting closer, and he's way too close for comfort just being in the same room alone. I never answer. "That's what I thought." He presses his mouth against mine and my eyes bug out. I knee him, well, you know where, and when he pulls away, slap him across the face. He stumbles backwards, giving me a chance to escape.

"For one thing, Spot respects me," I mutter. "And, Spot knows where ta stop, an' I like Spot." I push him out of me way and go to the door. He recovers much faster than I would have expected and grabs me when I'm fumbling with the knob.

"Oh, but Gidge, you dunno what you want, 'till you'v tried more dan one thing." He throws me at the bed, but I land on the floor. "Now, let's be civil. No more a dis violent stuff. You gimme what I want, an' I'll leave you alone."

"An' how long would that last?" I say, all traces of me New York accent gone. "You got lonely pretty damn fast after Sarah died." He hit me across the face and I screamed.

"What are ya afraid a? It's not like ya haven't done stuff wit Spot." He's wrong. Spot an' me haven't gone very far. To be honest, I had no intention of it, and Spot was fine with that.

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I apologize for the cliffhanger. And I want to thank all of those who reviewed. This proves my theory that it's all in the title and genre. Oh, never mind. I have solved the mystery of who Patrick from "Caryin' The Banna'", it's Racetrack. There's this boy at our school that looks just like Race, and his name is Patrick Longfellow. Coincidence? I think not.

Please review! I luv you all. Goodnight.