Artemis: Thanks again for the review. And don't worry about me, I am a big girl now, I can take care of myself, babe. But you know you're jealous of the shirt … hahahahaha I heart you!

MegabeeAthlete: -sigh of relief- I really appreciate your encouragement on my characterization. Big relief right there. Personally I like the way they are coming along but then again I am a little biased, lol. Ah, I feel mellow tonight (soccer camp in 10 hours and counting). Sorry I cannot muster up something else with which to thank you, but this will just have to do for now. THANKS!

This chapter is for all of my (four?) readers … the last one was really short so this should be a welcome change, I think. Have fun!

And remember, please REVIEW for me … thanks!

Just One (New York, New York)

SIX

SHE AWOKE THAT NIGHT, ALONE IN THE DARKNESS, AFRAID OF WHAT WAS TO COME NEXT.

Moonlight was streaming in through the window and in the silver shapes cast around the room she rolled over and grasped the first thing she felt in the darkness. It was Mush's shirt and it calmed her immediately.

The feeling of panic which had woken her was gone now and she thought, wide-eyed, of what Mush had told her.

"Dey's found a body in Brooklyn wid t'ree bullets in 'is chest," he had said to her in an even, balanced voice. "An' now dey's sayin' Spot Conlon killed 'im even dough Harlem and Brooklyn ain't at odds, really. An' dey's wanna take Spot an' get rid'a him now."

So that was the base of the conflict, the tip of the iceberg … a body and an accusation against the easiest scapegoat -- the district leader. And Jack Kelly somehow felt it was his duty to take it upon himself to protect Spot Conlon, though Jill did not know why. All she knew was that she wished Jack had not drawn Mush, or Race, or any other of the Manhattan boys into the problem. She had seen it tonight -- the other newsboys of New York were dangerous and irrational. It seemed they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted …

Spot dead …

But she did not want to see Spot hurt, however. Cold as ice, he was, but probably for good reason, and besides that, he seemed to be exactly the kind of leader Brooklyn needed. His district was his business, his life. Who had done this to Spot Conlon?

At the thought of Mush's face, though, she calmed. Mush, with that placid, even, comforting expression of protection. He had an unflappable temper, a balance to his thoughts that was odd for someone of his size. Underneath all those muscles … underneath all those muscles was the kindest, sweetest person she knew. Her friends were not here but he was, and it seemed a fair trade. After all, he was exactly like them. Not that she would ever trade her friends, but she hadn't really been given the choice, had she? The cloth of his shirt felt soft beneath her fingers and she slowly raised it to her face and breathed in deeply. It was his scent, through and through, and it was as though she felt him with her. She could memorize him simply by his scent.

Still, the uncertainty of the stability of the news distribution apparatus of New York frightened her. She would not have to witness the death of one of its greatest young leaders, would she? As far removed from everyone as Spot Conlon seemed, she knew that beneath all his attitude and talk, when he laid down to go to sleep at night, he was as much of a person as she was, or Mush … what were they dreaming about on this cool September night?

Mush …

And she could not shake the thought of him, could not forget that slow, glowing smile. She could not forget his kindness, his sweet expressions of sympathy, his overwhelming naivete …

She breathed in his scent again and closed her eyes …

But rain was now pounding on her window and thunder was shaking the sky. For the first time since she had come to New York City, it was storming. How appropriate.

She did not know the time or the day anymore and now, more than ever, she was trapped in this little room with the mess she had created of things all over the floor. Her most important possessions -- her dead cell phone, her money, the contents of her wallet -- were locked inside a drawer in her bed-side standing table to prevent prying eyes from that gruesome discovery. Ever since the Inn staff had come in unexpected and secretive to remove her tub after she had left that day earlier, she understood how direly important it was that nothing she owned could be seen. As it was now the floor was full of blankets and the clothing she had bought; her bed was occupied by her red shirt, the hat … and Mush's shirt as well.

In the storm she could not go back to sleep. She didn't even have anything to read, and when she walked to the window and looked out, there was no one in the street below except for a solitary traveller who was beckoning frantically to a passing carriage. The soggy man climbed on and rode away, leaving the road completely deserted behind him. She sighed.

If it continued to rain she would not be able to see the newsboys, right? And the last thing she wanted was to be alone the whole day -- it was bad enough to be alone every evening and every night. Perhaps if she had something to read, or a pen with which to write … but even those simple pleasures were denied her. As it stood she had no friends, no way to entertain herself. Oh, God, what was wrong with this picture?

And the room seemed smaller every second, seemed tighter and more cluttered. Feverishly she picked up the blankets and folded them and put them on the edge of the bed. She combed out her hair and brushed her teeth and put on the most comfortable of her underskirts and red shirt. It was all dirty clothing by now and today she would go down for a washtub to bathe, and use it to wash all her things, too. She fixed the arrangement of the furniture, she dusted the wooden borders, and she tugged the wrinkles from the curtains. She straightened the lone picture on the wall above the bed then evened out all of the sheets. Everything was set at a perfect angle and when she was done, she stood back, looking at her work. It was perfect -- and now she had nothing else to do until morning, or whenever it was.

A crack of lightning streaked across the sky and she sat in the chair near the window, watching. Thunder rumbled and she felt the floor shake. This was highly disappointing, this storm. What to do, what to do? There was nothing to do. Nothing, except sit and wait … and think …

Her eyes were drawn to the hat now sitting on the bed and she studied it intensely. It was tan and soft and almost able to study her right back; there was no reason to be angry with it anymore, however. What reason had there been to be angry in the first place? She was well enough off, that was not untrue. Over her head was a roof, around her was nice clothing, and under her on the floor below was a kitchen full of food. It could be worse, she told herself as she thought of Mush and Racetrack …

But will it take me home, too?

More than anything she missed her friends … they were her love, her comfort, her life … but everything would be alright, maybe time without her would do them good. Sooner or later, though, the hat would have to offer a line back home, wouldn't it? The thought gave her chills -- what if she never went home? No, she was here for some reason, maybe. Should she be learning some kind of lesson? A streak of lightning, a crack of thunder and she jumped. The approach of the storm should have been obvious with the falling temperature.

And now it must have been very early morning as well. The downpour had not relented, however, nor had the thunder and lightning. How long was this going to last? But there was a crisp knock on the door and she leapt up.

"Someone to see you, Miss," the man said. She recognised him as the clerk from downstairs. Snooty bugger from the front desk.

She peered around. There was no one in sight.

The man appeared to roll his eyes. Perhaps it was just her imagination. "Well, should I send him up to see you?"

Him … oh, if it was Mush … "Yes, thank you," she answered, her heart racing. Could he really be so good of a soul as that?

Yes, he could, came the answer when the uncertain gait of the young man brought him into the hallway. She saw him and the smile welled up from the bottom of her soul.

"Hullo, Jill," he said, smiling in relief.

She loved the sound of his voice. "Hello, Mush."

It took her a moment to realise they were still standing there dumbly and she mentally cursed herself. He was not dressed warmly enough, and he was soaked to the bone.

"Oh, God, look at you," she said, turning to go inside. He did not follow. It was his manners, she remembered. He would never not be proper. "Well, come in, sit down. Here," she put a blanket around his shoulders. "Didn't you notice the rain?"

He smiled shyly as if he wanted to laugh but said, "I'se was tryin' tah sell. Ain't good sellin' weddah, dough, an' dah papes was all soggy 'fore I'se even got tah dah harbour. An' I figured yous was still lonely, too. Still ain't fahgotten what yous said tah me." He pointed at his head, looking at her.

The statement amazed her and she for a second was unable to look any way other than shocked. But a smile blossomed magnificently and she sat down on the floor at his feet.

"So you couldn't see your papers today?"

He shook his head. "Gee, I hate days like dis when I'se can't sell. I'se needs dah money -- say, Jill, when's yer aunt comin' in? Yous 'ave been on yous own for an awful long time." His eyes were concerned as he looked at her.

She knew the question had been coming, she had sensed it -- it was now or never. Lying came naturally to her now, though this lie scared her indefinitely. Lying to Mush -- now or never. "I wrote to her and told her I don't need her to come in. I'm doing fine on my own, don't you think?"

"Jill, I don't t'ink dat's a good idea -- " he began.

"It's fine."

"Yous needs someone tah protect yah, tah keep watch'a yah in dis city -- "

"It's already done." she broke in firmly. "She's not coming." It seemed a weak lie, a stupid one, but at least he would leave her alone about it now. She was alright so far -- at least she was fed, clothed, sheltered, and washed. The streets would be worse. "And you've been with me every day, so I have had someone to protect me. Or would you have kept walking had something happened to me?" She smiled up at him.

He laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "For sure, no." he said, returning her smile in a friendly manner. He looked up and glanced around. "Nice place yah gots. Real tidy, like."

She nodded. "For now. Who knows when I'll go home." And let him interpret that in whatever way he'd like, she thought.

His face fell a little. "Yeah. Until you go home."

But she did not like when he was not happy. "Say, Mush, have you had breakfast yet?"

He shook his head. "Sold no papes, got no money."

"Well, I'll pay, then," she said and had to fend off a protest. "No, you've taken me everywhere, to Brooklyn and to the meeting and everything. Think of it as a thanks." she looked at him. "Come on, I want to be able to give something in return."

It was a reluctant acceptance, but an acceptance nonetheless. He put the blanket on the floor and shed a layer of wet clothing which was promptly stretched out on the back of the chair. They left together and she locked the room.

"It ain't right tah make yah pay," he continued as they descended the stairs. There was a piano playing in the corner of the room and she thought for a moment that she recognised the song. But no, it was unfamiliar.

"I told you, it's a thank you. And besides, I'm hungry too. What's the use of eating alone if I can have company?"

He grinned shyly, then was suddenly serious. Pulling out the chair for her, he said, "Jill, I'se sorry 'bout yestahday. I'se didn't t'ink it would get so bad." His face was crestfallen. "I'se real sorry."

"Nah, not your fault. I just wish Jack wouldn't use you and the other boys to follow his purposes." she told him, and he shook his head.

"We's volunteahed tah protect Spot," he said, looking at her with dark eyes from across the table. "I couldn't sit an' watch Spot get hoirt. He scares me, but dat don' mean I won' try tah help him out."

"So what's Jack going to do now?" she asked. She knew she had led him unknowingly onto a path he had refused to discuss last night on the long walk home.

"Well, Race is stayin' in Brooklyn wid Spot right now, fer two reasons."

She had to tread the path carefully or else he would realise what she was doing and stop talking. "What are they?" she asked softly.

"Foirst of all, Race is keepin' an eye out on dah t'ings happenin' aroun' Brooklyn, an' second, he's stayin' wid Spot tah protect him. He's gonna tell Jack everyt'in' dah happens."

"Race and Spot are very close."

"Childhood friends. Dey's known eachuddah fer a real long time an' dey's gets along real well." Mush answered. Then he seemed to realise what he was doing. Not acting angry or rude about it, he picked up a menu and began to read it.

She had been wrong to pry in the first place, glad though she was. But she would not press now, not when he had realised what she was trying to do. However, she did have a better handle on the situation, and for that she was grateful.

"I'm so hungry," she said to Mush, who nodded and continued to read over the menu. Then suddenly she wondered if he could read. Ah, he couldn't as angry as that. He had never refused to talk to her before.

"Everyt'in' looks so good," he said, alleviating her fears. Maybe he simply knew what food the place served, and pretended to read the menu. But he sold papers for a living, it was unlikely that he would have no grasp on the written language.

She did not what to ask, so instead she questioned, "What are you doing after we eat?"

"Going back tah dah Lodgin' House tah be wid Jack." He sipped on the water a waitress had brought around. "Tah help 'im out, yah know?"

"Can I go with you?" she asked. "Please, Mush, I'm so tired of sitting here with no one to talk you. I still haven't met the other boys."

He sighed and suddenly looked very tired. He could have hit her and she would have felt better about herself and less guilty. "If yah want, I'se guess yah could come. But it ain't fun, an' I'se'll pro'lly be busy plannin' t'ings wid Jack."

"It's better than here." she said. "Please, Mush?"

He sighed again and the weariness in his eyes was too much for her. God, how long had he been this way and she had not noticed?

"If yah want, yous can come," he replied. "Dah uddah boys'll keep yah company."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Mush."

The storm had stopped momentarily when they finally made their way out the door. But with the sky still black and threatening, Mush called to her to hurry. Because he spent so much time around the harbour, he was able to pinpoint every passing carriage and she laughed in sweet delight as they jumped from one to another, hanging on as it sped through the cobblestone streets. It was not too far away, and Mush laughed with her as they jumped off, his face flush with a high color. Several boys were standing talking outside the door and at the laughter of the two friends they stopped.

Mush was quiet and straight-faced immediately. Not sure what to think, Jill followed his example.

"Heya, boys," he called out. "Howyah doin'?"

They murmured replies, eyes flickering back and forth between the pair. Perhaps it was only Jill who could see that Mush kept folding and crushing his hat as if he were nervous …

"Dis is Jill, boys. She's gonna stay dah aftahnoon wid us." he said. "Just fer tahday. Jill, dis is Specs, Dutchy, Snitch, Itey," he pointed them out, going down the line. "Snoddy, Pie Eater, Snipeshooter, Boots -- heya, Boots -- Swifty, Bumlets, Crutchy, Skittery, Jake."

There were about a million, or so it felt to her. Completely overwhelmed and intimidated, she waved shyly. Mush stayed close to her as they approached the door as if he sensed her fear.

"Don' worry," he whispered in her ear. "Dey's ain't gonna hoirt yah. Dey's real nice."

She trusted him completely and quietly made an effort to overcome her nervousness. She knew that he would never put her in any sort of danger … even at the meeting, his first concern, and Jack's, had been to get her out of the building. The thought made her feel better.

"Hiya dere, Jill," one of the boys said kindly. Another offered to take her arm and help her through the door even though he was already burdened by a bad leg and the walking stick which evened it out. Their fuss, their concern -- it was sweet and flattering.

They were a flurry of questions. "How long yah been in New York?" called one while another said, "Mushy been treatin' yah good?" and another asked, "Where yah from, I'se can tell yous from outtah tahn?"

It made her smile. "I can't understand you when you all talk at once." she told them gently, unable to hide that smile away again.

"Sorry, Miss," one of them said and they all stammered their apologises -- all at once.

She laughed. These boys were just as vibrant and different as the ones she had met before, and her affection for them was immediate and full. All of them at once, all gathered around her anxiously awaiting her answers, still intimidated her, but she made herself as bold and confident as possible.

"So," one of them ventured, maybe it was Skittery. "Where yah from?"

"Pittsburgh," she smiled at him. He was very cute. "Right outside of the city."

"Yous evah been tah New York before?" asked another. She thought it might have been Snitch. He was cute, too. Wrongly enough, almost all of them were cute.

"Once, just for a few days, though." she nodded, looking around into their wide-eyed gazes. "Always wanted to come back."

"We's was just talkin' about some pokah, Miss. Yah want dealt in?" Was that Itey?

"Please, call me Jill. And yeah, I'll play." she told them. This room was obviously the lobby. Stairs led up to what she guessed would be the bunkroom, and at the bottom stood an old man behind the desk.

"What've you got there, boys?" asked the old man in a faltering voice. For some reason Jill liked him immediately … around him was a feeling of great warmth, of caring and love.

"Dis is Jill, an' Jill, dis is our lodger Mr. Kloppman. He takes care'a us all." She thought it was Dutchy who spoke.

Kloppman's smile was genuine. "Why, hello there, young lady. Can I help you?" he squinted just a little to be able to see her but they were eyes filled with warm emotion, true kindness.

She politely returned the smile. "No, thanks, Sir. I came with Mush." What else should she say?

"Well, then, any of these boys gives you trouble and you come get me." But he winked, and she felt happy at his presence. It was obvious that although this was his business, he loved these boys without self, his love infinite and gentle. Did fathers even love their own children in this way?

Not mine, for sure …

"Heah, take dis seat," someone pulled out a wooden chair for her. Oh, she was about the luckiest girl alive right then, or so she felt. All this fuss, all this courtesy … was it really all for her?

Unbelievable. This doesn't exist in my place or my time.

Poker was a good game, luck always fell to her when the cards were dealt. No other game, but poker was a good solid bet for her. Any big money went down on this game, it almost always being a sure thing. Regular five card, that was her best. Simple and quick, the luck always fell to her as the cards flew out. A few fixed games here and there just for the thrill of it as a dealer and she loved to talk fast to her players so that they would not notice the sleight of her hands. As long as it was five card she had no doubts. Good cards or bluff with spirit. Poker face with conviction. Too bad Race wasn't here to get crushed …

"Two pairs, Queen high," she said, putting her cards fanned out on the table. The other boys gaped at her as she smugly looked up. "I win, boys."

Fast game, fast talk … she loved the thrill of betting and bluffing, dealing and winning. But it did not seem right to take the money from those poor boys … her hand crept out to cover the pile of coins and after she drew it back, she divided it evenly amongst them.

One of them laughed. "Yah shoah ain't no strangah tah dah game," he said, looking at her with a big, embarrassed grin. She only nodded, then her poker face broke and she laughed, too.

"Nope, it's my best." she told him. "My only good one."

"Well, den, we's gonna hafta get Race tah teach yah some skill at dah uddahs, ain't we?" Was that Specs?

This was definitely Crutchy. "Oh, yeah, yah should see our Racetrack wid 'is cards," he said excitedly. "He ain't nevah lost'a game tah us. T'ink 'e lost tah Spot once, but maybe I ain't remembahing right."

She smiled at the animated speaker. A gimp leg, but he was more energetic and lively than most people she had known from home. The variation between these boys each as individuals was incredible … a roomful of imagination and pride and loyalty … what a shame that they were on the streets and not at the heads of companies and other industry.

"Is there -- is there a bathroom here?"

A few looked surprised at the straight-forwardness of the question. "Up dah stairs tah dah left," finally came an answer.

Well, it's not as if they don't ever have to piss, she thought but did not say as she bounded up the stairs. She realised, half-shamed, that she was dressed in what was all but the underwear of the times. What had the boys thought when she had showed up with Mush? Her face burned at the thought.

She saw the bathroom, a wash-room, really, with a collective sink and three or four flush toilets. But next to that, on the right, sat what was obviously the bunkroom, and two soft voices floated through the doorway to her ears. Under any other circumstances, she would not have done it, but because at least the first voice was familiar, and because she was already fond of Mush's friends, she listened quietly in the hallway.

"An' I dunno, I'se waitin' fer Race tah get back an' tell me wha' he's seein' in Brooklyn."

"You can't make him into a spy, that's wrong and it puts Racetrack in danger. And us."

"I can't let it alone, dough. You know dat, an' so do dah rest a'dah boys. Dey's bein' real good about it, Dave." The softness had returned to the voice. It was true regret, true affection. "Dey knows dis ain't dere fault, an' dey's willin' tah help out."

She had not even made a sound but Jack Kelly came walking from the room. Quickly she turned to the washroom but it was too late. A reprimand she would have expected, and would have deserved, but Jack's voice made her freeze. Jack's gentleness stopped her in her tracks.

"Hey, Jill," he said, smiling slightly. "Howyah doin', kid?"

What was she supposed to think of him? If he had been angry she would have been almost relieved. But the kindness in the language of his body, the level of understanding to his speech … "Good, Jack," she said with genuine warmth. "How about you?"

"Good, good," he said, even though he looked tired and frustrated. A tall, curly-haired boy with big blue eyes was peering over Jack's shoulder with an expression that was half worried, half curious. "Jill, dis is Davey. Dave, dis is Jill. She's one'na Mushy's friends."

It was clear from the caution in Davey's eyes that he was part of the brains behind every function in which Jack partook. A constant worrier, sometimes grating on Jack's last nerve like a bad toothache, probably. But Davey gave her a polite smile and stood a little awkwardly in her presence.

"I was just coming up for the bathroom," she said, shaken at last, pointing to the washroom.

Jack one hand behind him, gestured with his other. "You've found it. Home sweet home," he laughed then, motioning around him to the modest surroundings.

She smiled in spite of herself. "Thanks. Nice to meet you, David." With a respectful bow of her head and a fragment of her earlier smile, she turned the corner into the bathroom.

All the stupid clothing of the times … how do these women manage? She peeled away layer after layer of skirt and untied knot after knot. This was ridiculous, and it was heavy -- even her underskirts were thick and uncomfortable, but less so than the real thing. The red T-shirt at least, that was bearable. But this other stuff? No. Something had to be done.

It was with a feeling of great satisfying relief that she exited the stall. The white wooden door swung open at her touch and she bathed her hands in a pan of water sitting next to an old razor. She had never before been inside of the Lodging House and now that she could see the boys' articles of everyday life, she was very interested in what all the rooms had to offer. But it was wrong to pry, so with her curiosity controlled with an iron will, she went downstairs.

The games were still going strong and the boys beckoned her for another game. For an instant she considered refusing but what else was there to do? They divided to let her have a look at the dealing table.

"Here, I'm going to teach you a little game called Texas Hold 'Em," she said, collecting the cards. "It's poker, but different."

"You said five card was yer good game," someone called, but she shook her head.

"I'm alright at anything poker, but Hold 'Em is fun. Just wait, it's easy." With that, she dealt in five players with two cards apiece and put out a penny as an opener. "The trick is to get pairs. Now put in a bet, or check, and I'll flop."

"Yah'll what?" exclaimed a voice.

"I'll turn over three community cards we'll all share and then we can bet higher stakes if the pickings look better. Just stay in for a round, you don't have to start with good stuff."

Her hands knew cards well, and she barely had to look as she turned them and motioned to the community pile. The pot grew larger and larger as the boys became more and more confident but she lost only one game, and even then she had become reckless rather than unlucky. At one point she was two cards from a royal flush but the next round saw her with a straight. Not bad, and twenty cents poured in to her when Skittery thought it could get no better than a pair of aces.

"Sorry," she grinned, pulling the giant pot toward herself. "Straight high wins."

Skittery ogled at her cards. "I dunno if even Race could hold 'is own next tah yah."

She played often enough to understand her freakish luck when it came to poker, although she was occasionally still amazed at her perfect hands. For the most part, however, it was all the usual to her.

"I'll have to ask him for a game when he gets back," she said, throwing out another giant bet on her ace and king.

It was her final win but she left her winnings on the table. "Nah, I don't want them. You boys keep them. It was your first rounds of the game. I know it better than you do." Of course they chivalrously refused to split her winnings, arguing instead that it was only right she keep what she earned, but when she slowly drew away through the crowd, almost unnoticed as the boys clamoured to deal for the next game of Texas Hold 'Em, she left the money on the table.

There was a bench near the window and she sat down to rest for a moment. Outside she could see Jack with Mush, Blink, and Davey, all talking quietly, sitting around a statue of Horus Greenly. She gazed at Mush. His face looked so studious, so thoughtful … his wits must have been much quicker than she first suspected if her was this close to Jack and he was this involved in the affairs of New York. Which boy's words carried the most weight with Jack, or did they all count for the same?

A shadow over her … "Mind if I sit, Miss?" the boy asked politely, hat clutched in his hands.

She nodded. "Sure --"

"It's Snitch," he said immediately, sensing that she needed a name. She smiled. There were so many, she could not be expected to remember all their names right away.

"Sure, Snitch."

She felt his tall weight on the bench next to her and she moved aside slightly to allow him some room.

He smiled in a friendly manner. "Mushy's tawked about yah befoah, but we's t'ought 'e was makin' up stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah, an' we's all was wonderin' where 'e was headed off tah so early in dah mornin'." Snitch told her. "'E was up befoah usual an' we's didn' know why."

"He's usually already sold most of his papers before I see him. And I'm up pretty early most of the time, for some reason."

"Weah yah stayin'?" he asked. Skittery was looking their way, too.

"A little train stopover on the harbour." she answered. "It's not a bad place."

All the boys still made her nervous, and she was glad for the one-on-one talk for which Snitch had given her the opportunity.

"How long yah been heah?"

"About six days now. Not long, although I was so bored staying in that little room. Nothing to do, and no one to talk to."

"Yous should tell dah boys weah yer stayin', an' we's'll drop by tah visit, den. Yous can always come heah an' talk tah us. Besides Sarah, we's don' get many goils comin' tah see us."

"Who's Sarah?"

"She's Jack's goil. Been tahgeddah since dah Strike in July. Davey's sistah, if yous met him yet."

"Yeah, just today," she said. "He's Jack's friend."

"Yeah, 'cept he's goin' back tah school like befoah. Means he won' be sellin' papes wid us no moah."

She nodded. "Why was he out of school?"

"Faddah got hoirt real bad in dah factahry. But s'all bettah now, an' Davey's gotta start school again. Shame, he was a real good guy."

"He's not coming back to see you guys?"

"Well, yeah," Snitch nodded earnestly. "But wid school woirk, he's not gonna be 'round as of'en. Jack'll be hoirt by dat one. Loves Davey, he does. Like broddahs."

She nodded, quiet again, and gazed back out the window at the group of boys talking outside. Jack was consulting Davey, and the others were listening intently.

Skittery approached tentatively and motioned to the bench. "Mind?" he asked courteously.

Both Snitch and Jill moved to the right. He sat at her other side and she smiled … surrounded by cute guys … how often did this happen to her?

"Yer gonna hafta gimme some pokah lessons, Miss," the second boy said in an exasperated voice. His good-natured frustration was obvious.

She shrugged. "It's all in the cards." But then she added, "I can teach you how much money to throw down."

"Yah usually play fer big money?"

"Yeah, although I do lose on occasion. Not too often, though," she said and smiled. "I'm still pretty shaky on Texas Hold 'Em."

"Well, yah coirtenly didn' look it just den," Skittery said with the look of a controlled bad mood and Snitch laughed.

"Ah, lighten up, you," he said and reached across Jill to gently punch Skittery on the shoulder. Snitch's hair was all mused from his hat and he looked wonderfully young to her. They were all so fantastic, no wonder Mush loved them so much. Painfully, they reminded her of her own beautiful friends.

Her friends … without them she was half a person, half the imagination, half the happiness. Being without them was the exact same as being without her legs … everyday at home she had maintained some line of contact with them because time without them was like time in a slow death. Whether it was a text message, a phone call, or the occasional e-mail, she had talked in some way with them every day. There was nothing more she loved than spending the day with them, just being near them. At their homes she felt safe, protected, loved. She owed them the world, and would gladly give it to them -- whatever they asked, it was theirs. Sometimes she felt awkward at being unable to express her love for them, it ran so deep and true. Her friends, her beautiful friends, they were her universe, they were the only things that kept her rooted to her home because she knew she could never leave them. Without them near her, she would have been gone a long time ago. Was it that way with Mush?

"Yeah, dey's plannin' dah next move," Skittery said softly, seeing her blank gaze turned to the boys outside. She turned her head back to him.

"The next move?" she asked, then bit her lip. Always so many questions … at what point would they finally become impatient with her?

But he and Snitch seemed perfectly at ease, perfectly relaxed, perfectly calm. "Yeah, tah try tah unite dah districts." Skittery answered and Snitch nodded to agree, then added, "Since no one's gettin' along, we's tryin' tah protect Spot 'til Brooklyn gets organised. Brooklyn's dah key tah dah whole fight. Us'lly no 'un moves 'til Spot moves. S'all differen' now since dah body's been found."

She nodded, considering. If only she could break down the wall around Spot and hear the whole story … if only Mush would really tell her the entire plan. He should trust me, he's told me other things, she thought, the slightest bit angry. But when she thought of the meeting, of all those jeering dirty faces, her anger softened then faded. Mush was trying to protect her as best as he could. He did not want to endanger her in any way, and at the same time he was trying to make her comfortable, make her happy.

"Look, heah dey come," Snitch said anxiously, then stood and shouted. "Stand up now, boys, dey's comin' back tah tell us dah plan!"

There was the sudden noise of chairs scraping the ground as they were pushed aside by the boys who now clamoured to stand up and catch a glimpse of Jack and the rest. The door opened and in strolled Jack with the others proudly following.

Silence as Jack paused to look at the dealing table. Jill realised how wonderful he was as a speaker and she wondered how he had acquired the skill. He turned his head to look at them and seemed to consider for an instant before starting.

"We's maybe gotta'n answer tah dah problem," Jack called and every boy straightened at his words. "But I need tah know wha' yous t'inks a' wha' we's wanna do."

Jill suddenly felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw Mush. "Come one, we's bettah go."

She really wanted to stay and hear but it was not her place to argue, especially not in front of his friends. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly as she allowed herself to be led from the room.

"Bye, Miss," a few of the boys whispered as she passed in front of them, pulled along by Mush's iron grip which encircled her wrist tightly. She waved and smiled kindly, no choice but to follow her friend.

Outside it was much cooler with a comfortable breeze and she took a deep breath.

"I like your friends," she said immediately. His grip was almost crushing her wrist and she struggled to pull away. He realised he was hurting her and released instantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said fretfully as she rubbed the ugly red mark on her arm. "Sometimes I don' realise me own strength."

"It's alright," she assured him. "No worries, no worries." Then she shot a glance to the Lodging House. "Can I visit them again sometime?"

He frowned. "I'se told Jack wha' yous said about yer aunt," he announced with a deliberate firmness. "He said dah same as me, he ain't too happy wid dat."

"Doesn't matter," she said stubbornly. This freedom was what she had always wanted and no one was going to take it away from her.

But his words were not to be taken lightly. "Yah can't go doin' dis no moah. I'se gonna look at some nice places closah tah heah an' we's gonna put yous up so's yous'll be neah tah us."

"I want to stay where I am. I'm not moving."

"Yah don' undahstand, Jill," he said with an even deeper frown. "Yah can't be cut off from us, all isolated, like. Dat ain't gonna woirk no moah."

"But you sell on the harbour --"

"Don' maddah. T'ings could be changin' soon an' wha' wouldyah do den?" he asked. She took a seat on the base of the statue and he gave a sigh. "I'se real sorry, Jill. Times ain't good tah any'a us no moah."

"Aw, Mush, please don't make me move. If you really want, I will, but I'd prefer not to travel all through New York carrying my stuff. I'm not that far to begin with, anyway."

"I know, I know," he said with a regretfully understanding tone. "But dat's what I want, an' dat's what Jack says. Please?" he asked. "I'll carry it all, yous don' hafta lift a fingah. Come one, Jill, fer me?"

It's those eyes, damn it, she swore as she looked at him. Usually she would battle wills with him, but she found that she could not. She sighed heavily, tiredly. "If you want me to, I'll move."

He smiled and his eyes crinkled. She loved the warmth of his smile, the friendliness. "T'anks, Jill. Dis way it'll all be safer. An' we'll be closah dat way."

They started off for her apartment, talking softly. A good portion of they day had already passed and the skies were still black, threatening to open up and pour down at any minute. She matched him, stride for stride, as the harbour loomed into view.

"I hope dah guys was good tah yah," he said earnestly. "Hope dey's treated yah real nice an' ever't'in."

"Yeah, I like them," she replied, walking along beside him, with a tone that was completely and openly honest. "Nothing but the best manners. Nice guys, Mush, I really like your friends. Can I visit them sometime?"

"We's'll see," he said. He must have realised how controlling he sounded because his voice dropped a few pitches to a velvety softness and he said, "T'ings ain't so safe anymoah wid Spot caught up in dis whole situation. Sometimes I dunno if it's safe tah let yah come neah us."

"Oh, no, you can't leave me by myself. Mush, I am so lonely. You have no idea. You live in a house full of your friends. Me … I'm all on my own." Then she felt a pang of guilt for placing this burden upon him. Quietly, she added, "But whatever you think is best." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I trust you."

His giant eyes were full of gentle tenderness. "Don' worry, Jill. I'se'll fix dis an' yous can have anyt'in' yous wants. I promise yah, okay?" He looked her straight in the eye, waiting for an honest answer. Both of her hands were hidden in his.

She hesitated for a second, thinking. Finally she nodded. "Alright, Mush. Can I see you tomorrow?"

"I'se'll come tah get yah, den." he told her and released her hands. "Yah'd bettah go in befoah it starts tah rain again. Go ahead." he said gently, watching as she went in.

From her window she watched his retreating back, wishing that she was not alone, wishing that he was not leaving her again …