Francis couldn't believe it. He kept pinching himself, because he knew he must've been dreaming. His sister AND his best friend was here in Manhattan! And he had found them. After all these years, he felt like he had a family again. He rubbed the goose-egg bump that started it all.

"Alright, now where should Bunny work?" Francis thought out loud. "Perhaps the stables?" He looked at Anastasia with an inquisitive face. "I know people. Let's see. Da boss's name is Jones, and I have a very close friend dat will take real good care of you. His name is Trots."

"Stables sounds great. A lot better than those goddamned sweatshops!"

The two walked to Midtown where they arrived at a small brick building that was connected to a large wooden barn with many stables. Above the brick building a sign was hanging that said:

Jonesy's Ponies

and Horses

"Dis is da place, now let's see if dis is da job," Jack said and sighed heavily.

"Cowboy! Hey, Cowboy!" a tall, skinny boy with slick-backed blonde hair and very dirty hands came running from the barn.

"Trots! Hey-ya, kid, I haven't seen you since the salad incident," Jack spat in his hand and thrust it forward. Trots mirrored the gesture and completed the shake.

"So what's the dealin', Jack?" Trots asked.

"Well, to get to da point right away, me sista needs a job, and, uh, preferably a place ta stay, Trots," Jack pushed Jazz into view.

Trots eyed her down, "Ya eva woik with horses before, kid?"

"Well, I rode a pony at a carnival once," Jazz replied timidly. Jack burst out with laughter. "What?" Jazz snapped.

"I remember dat! Hahahahahahahaaa! You was cryin' before you were even in da saddle! Hahahahahaa! And five seconds into it...hahahahahahaa...you fell off!" Jack lost it and Trots began to laugh as well.

Jazz stood there very embarassed in front of two laughing hyenas.

"It's not funny! I had a bruise da size of Brooklyn on my rump for a month!" Jazz pleaded, but it only made them roar louder. "Bah! Never mind I'll get the stupid job meself!" Jazz stormed into the small brick building, took a deep breath, and put on a cheesy, innocent smile, and stepped up to the clerk's desk.

"Hello, little missy. What can I do for you today?" Asked a delightful and jolly man that reminded her of Kloppman, only much shorter.

"Good morning, sir, I was wondering if you could give me a job," Jazz stood there trying to look as innocent yet hard-working as possible.

"Sorry I'm not in charge of that. You'll need to see Mr. Jones. He is the man in charge here." The small man jumped off his booster stool and stepped out from behind the desk. Jazz's eyes widened at the sight of him. He looked like a character from one of her fairy tale books, his eyes were like bright, twinkling stars made of ice and his height was most obscure for the top of his head only reached the bottom of her ribcage.

"Follow me, please," the short man said. Jazz looked back and could still hear the boys cackling outside. The man led her up a passage of wide wooden stairs and through a surprising number of doors. Finally they arrived at a large cherry-wooden door that said:

Mr. Bartholomew Jones

Owner & Founder

"You'll find him in there." The short, jolly man pointed inside the door.

"Thank you," Jazz curtsied and opened the door.

As the small man walked away she could hear him saying "What a polite little girl." She wanted to laught but knew she had to stay serious.

"Excuse me, um, Mr. Jones?" Jazz said in a bit of shock at the look of his office. It wasn't all satin and gold like Pulitzer's, but it was filled with books. Next to a large window there sat a normal wooden chair and a small and obviously cheao desk, but all the walls were covered with overflowing book shelves. The most elegant of book shelves too. "Oh my god," Jazz whispered breathlessly. Anastasia had learned to read from her grandparents and ever since she could read, thats all she did in her free time. Her favorite materials were Shakerspeare's works.

"Yes?" Mr. Jones looked up from his paperwork. "Yes?...Yes!?" He realized that he walk talking to a wall, a wall that was astounded by his library. So he stood up and walked over to her. She didn't even notice. He started looking at the same bookshelf that she was. "My favorite is 'Utopia'," Mr. Jones said.

Jazz jumped and suddenly realized that the owner had watched her drool over his book collection for the past few minutes.

"By Sir Thomas More," Mr. Jones finished.

"Oh yes, yes. I'm sorry. It's just...wow," Jazz sighed.

"What is it that you want? Hopefully it wasn't to stare at my books," Mr. JOnes chuckled. Jazz looked down and blushed.

"Uhh, I was hoping you would give me a job. I'm a hard worker and don't require anything special. So please?" Jazz splurted out.

"A job, eh? These horses and ponies are the best in all of New York City. This job is not to be taken lightly. You can't be afraid, you can't be weak, and you are definately not allowed to give up. I only hire people who take this seriously. Are you serious?"

"Of course I am!"

"You'll have to prove it to me. I'll gove you one trial day, if you last, then you got the job, but we don't need a weak link."

"Good thing I'm not one, sir"

"You'll be working with Will today. Now the trouble is going to be finding the rascal."

The two walked back through the labyrinth of the building and into the New York air. They saw the sad sight of Jack and Trots still slightly laughed and wiping tears from their eyes.

"WILL!" Mr Jones said with authority.

"Huh?" Trots quickly looked up and stopped laughing.

"You will work with this girl today. It's her trial day."

"Oh, ok. Come on, kid. See ya, Cowboy." Trots took Jazz's arm and lead her into the barn. "Sit down and I'll show ya da basics."

After a long lecture, the work began. It was much harder than she thought. Keeping all the different kinds of food and the horses straight was exceptionally difficult. She also realized how heavy everything was. After falling onto the dusty ground so many times she could barely feel her legs, ankles, or feet. While she was feeding Horace, her locket fell out and frightened him and Horace went bizerck.

Mr. Jones was getting fed up with her sad excuse for a good job. He walked down to where she was trying to polish a saddle to tell her the unfortunate news.

"Look, kid, you seem nice, but I dont think you're what I need around here. So let's just say your trial day is over. You should probably leave to look for a job." And with that he returned to his book filled lair.

A solitary tear fell down her cheek and she slumped away.

"Jazz! Jazz!" Trots ran up to her. "Where ya goin, kid?"

"I was fired, I mean, I didn't get the job. I just have ta leave."

"Do ya even have any idea of where ta go?"

"Well, no, but..."

"But, nothin'! Besides the sun's about ta set so ya betta get back to da Lodgin House."

Jazz looked at the brightly colored pink sky. "Oh gees." Jazz stumbled off in the directionof the Lodging House.

"Oh and, Jazz. Good luck, kid."

Jazz didn't look back she just started to run. She felt like such a klutz and a failure. She didn't feel like dragging her sorry ass into her brother's kindness only to show how badly she did.

Once she arrived at the Lodging House she just walked past it until she arrived at the Horace Greeley statue. She climbed into the staues lap and fell into an uneasy sleep.

________________________________________________________________

"Owwww!" Jazz awoke from a hard poke to the stomach. Once her vision came she saw the last person she expected.

_________________________________________________________________________

review if you wish (but plez no flames)