Y'all, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a few days. Here are my excuses: I stayed up late one night watching Dirty Dancing (the original, of course) and Wizard of Oz. The next night, I went bow fishing. Let me tell you about bow fishing, since I'm sure you've never heard of it before – I hadn't. You go out late at night on boat with a shallow draw, and they shine bright lights into the shallow water. Every time you see a fish of decent size, you take your bow and arrow (yes, you read that right) and you shoot at them. I am not making this up. And...it. Is. So. Fun! Seriously.

On a different note, I have that Garth Brooks song She's Every Woman stuck in my head right now. At least I think that's what it's called: She's sun and rain/fire and ice/a little crazy but it's nice... you know, that song. I love that song. Anyway, that's irrelevant. Carry on.

Despite the fact that I had refused to answer their questions the night before, finally resorting to turning to the wall and snoring loudly until they stopped pestering me, I was greeted with more questions in the morning. I rolled my eyes. "Guys, nothing happened. I swear."

"Right," Snitch said. "You went all da way to Maria's house to visit 'er an' den, what? She wasn't home?"

"No, but, I mean, nothing you would be interested in," I said uncomfortably.

Skittery made a face at me, but directed his statement to Snitch. "Snitch, apparently Specs 'ere t'inks dat we ain't interested in his visit to Maria. Why is dat, do you t'ink?"

"Well," Snitch pretended to think for a moment, "y'see, low-class bummers like us are only interested in one t'ing from goils. An' since 'e didn't get none o' dat, 'e don't t'ink we wanna know." Then he grinned at me.

I groaned. "Alright, alright. But let's go down first, or Tanner will kill us."

After a good bit of stalling, the boys managed to drag the night's events out of me. Then, after about fifty overused wisecracks and sly comments at my expense, I finally retaliated. "Well," I drawled, ambling over to Snitch, "at least I'm not dating Chance."

He looked up sharply from his hammering. "What's that supposed to mean?" He tried to look dangerous, but he couldn't hide the glint of laughter in his eyes.

"Oh, nothing," I said innocently, holding up my hands in a placating manner. "Chance is a pretty little thing." I smirked. "But she's not Maria."

I turned to walk back to my table, but Skittery asked, laughing, "Are you gonna take dat kinda talk 'bout yer goil?"

There was a moment of silence, then Snitch let out a yell. "Yaaaah!" he cried, jumping onto my back.

"Oomph!" I hit the ground, the wind knocked out of me for a moment. My glasses flew across the floor. Snitch and I wrestled on the ground for a little bit before I looked up and noticed the laughing Skittery. "Let's get him," I muttered. Before he could react, we jumped on him, forming a mass of whirling, yelling, laughing boys.

Tanner came running into the room. "What is going on here?" he asked in his thick accent. We all jumped up quickly, dusting ourselves off and running back to our tables. Unfortunately, my table was on the other side of Tanner, and, as I passed, his fist shot out and caught me on the eye, knocking me to the ground for the second time that day. "Back to work," he growled, walking out.

Skittery and Snitch stared after him for a moment before looking over at me. "Are you alright?"

I touched my face tenderly, then gave a wry grin. "I've had worse," I lied. "At least my glasses were already off." I bent to retrieve them.

We worked in tense silence for about fifteen minutes, before Skittery asked, "Do you t'ink 'e chooses not to talk much, or 'e jus' can't handle dat many thoughts at once?" Snitch and I grinned at him, and, though we continued to work quietly, the camaraderie that we had grown used to was back.

Apparently, Snitch and Chance had agreed on another date that night, so, after I told him to tell Chance to tell Maria that I would meet her in front of her family's restaurant on Saturday at 7:00, it was a Snitch-less duo that headed to the Newsies Lodging House that night, looking for something to do. When we got there – after getting lost about a thousand times, since Skittery had only been there once and I had never been – the manager of the Lodging House, who introduced himself as Kloppman, said that the boys were upstairs. "I think they're playing poker," he explained, "so you'll want to keep a close watch on your pockets."

"They wouldn't...pick our pockets, would they?" Skittery asked in astonishment.

"No, no, no," Kloppman reassured us quickly. "It's just that the boys tend to forget that they've got to keep at least some of their money. You'll want to remember how much you've got."

Skittery and I walked up the stairs, opened the door, and headed straight into a closet. However, we agreed not to spread that around, and tried to appear casual as we walked into the bunkroom. With a few exceptions, everyone was gathered around a circle of boys, in the center of which was a fair-sized pile of money. It looked as though Blink, Jack, and Itey were the only ones still playing. I wondered for a moment why Racetrack, who I'd heard was an avid gambler, wasn't there, but I was distracted by the greeting that arose from the group.

As everyone was shouting hellos, Race walked in with his arms full of food, answering my earlier question. "Hey, guys, I got it!" he yelled. Then he turned to us, "Hey, what were you'se guys doing in the closet?"

Skittery and I glanced at each other, then sat down quickly. "Deal us in," Skittery said, and the game began.

Two hours later, Skittery and I walked out of the Lodging House. Our pockets weighed lighter in our pants, but heavier on our minds. I groaned, "Skitts, I can't believe I just lost all that money in there."

"Yea," Skittery agreed glumly. "Dat was pretty stupid."

Needless to say, we were not in the mood to face Snitch's inevitable elation over his date with Chance. As we neared the blacksmith's shop, Skittery said darkly, "Dat boy jus' better keep 'is mouth shut tonight, dat's all I'm sayin'." Fortunately, Snitch still wasn't back, so Skittery and I had time to crawl into bed and pretend to be asleep when Snitch came back. However, our closed eyes didn't stop us from hearing his off-key singing or occasional one-sided conversations. Slowly, I began to grin. After all, my night hadn't been all that bad. Sure, I had lost a lot of money – more than I had intended – but I had fun. I looked over at Skittery to see if he was sharing my thoughts, but he was still facing the wall. I shrugged and went to sleep.

The next day, it was obvious that Skittery was still in a bad mood. Before Snitch had even opened his mouth about Chance, Skittery walked up to him and said, quite calmly and evenly, "Don't talk." Chance stared wide-eyed at me as Skittery walked out of the room and downstairs.

I shrugged, "I don't know. He was in a bad mood last night after we...um...played poker."

Snitch noticed my hesitance in saying that, and he grinned. "You played wit' Race an' Itey, didn't you?"

I made a face. "Yea," I admitted.

He slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked downstairs. "I let you out by yerself fer one night, an' you can't handle it," he mocked.

"Well," I said sarcastically, "maybe if my friend had let me know dat dose bummers..." I trailed off, open-mouthed. "I mean, that they..."

But Snitch was already laughing. "Aww, too bad. Maria jus' loved yer accent."

I swatted him. "Aw, shut it."

Snitch and I had predicted that Skittery's bad mood would fade out by lunch, but he was still going strong when I left to meet Maria. Even our weekly pay did nothing to cheer him up. His last words to me before I left were, "Have fun wit' yer goil. Not dat you can trust goils or anyt'ing." Snitch raised his eyebrows at me, and I walked out with a heavy feeling in my stomach.

That faded as soon as I saw Maria. She was waiting for me outside of Casa Garcia, and I paused in my walking when I saw her. The setting sun was caught in her hair, bringing out the red highlights hidden in her black locks. The color was mirrored in her flushed cheeks, and she was smiling at the sight of some children playing in the street. My breath caught at the thought that this girl – this amazing, fun, beautiful girl – was really interested in me.

At that moment, Maria turned in my direction. "Specs!" she cried, running to greet me with a hug.

I laughed, picking her up and spinning her around. "So, where to?" she asked, once we had stopped laughing. Then she noticed my bruise. She touched it gently, asking, "What happened?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Nothing really. Tanner, the blacksmith I work for, caught us goofing around during work hours." I shrugged again. "No big deal."

Maria looked worried. "Are you sure..." she began to ask, then seemed to change her mind. Her expression changed as she asked again, "Where are we going?"

"Well, I figured that we could eat dinner somewhere and then just walk around for a while."

"Our dates are falling into a pattern," she smiled.

"We could do something else, if you'd like," I offered.

"No, I like this," she replied. She started walking, then turned to me. "Um, where are we eating?"

I laughed, and shrugged. "Wherever you want."

After dinner, we walked around the city, just as we had on our last two dates. But, somehow, this one was different. We laughed more and chattered and teased each other instead of dreamily discussing nonsensical things. The moonlight quality, the excitement and mystery of a new relationship was gone from our date, replaced by a comfortable sort of happiness. There wasn't an obvious aura of magic hanging about, but I found that I rather liked the change. I also discovered that the magic wasn't completely gone as we walked back toward Maria's apartment arm in arm. And, this time, when I wanted to kiss her softly smiling mouth, I did.

I didn't head back to the smithy right away. Instead, I wandered around for a while, reliving all my time with Maria. I looked up from my thoughts to realize that I was in an unfamiliar part of town. I smiled and shook my head. I really had to stop falling into these reveries or I was going to get into trouble someday. I sighed and headed back to the blacksmith's to face another round of questions.

To my surprise, the others weren't back yet. Not having a watch, I wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but I knew that it was late. After all, I had spent a lot of time with Maria, then wandered around for a while before realizing that I was lost and finding my way back. I was trying to decide where they could be when I heard the door open and a frowning Skittery stalked in, heading straight for the washroom. Snitch wasn't too far behind.

He followed my gaze to the washroom and gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, I'm jus' glad I didn't bet on how long dis mood was gonna last. Cuz I'd o' lost ten times over."

"He's been like this all night?"

"Well," Snitch paused, "yea. I mean, we went out wit' a buncha friends to a vaudeville, fer Chrissake! Most people are pretty happy when dey do dat, right? But no, not Skitts over dere. I swear, we shoulda named 'im Glum'n'Dumb instead o' Skittery." He grinned. "Dat's what Race kept callin' 'im all night. Glum'n'Dumb. Skitts was so mad."

Snitch's tirade was cut off by Skittery's reentrance into the room. Without looking at either of us, he climbed into bed. I had expected to be inundated with questions again, but Skittery's bad mood had a dampening effect on all of us, so Snitch and I got ready for bed in silence, without our usual goofing off, and turned in.

The next morning, I went to church again, for what would turn out to be the last time. When I got home, still trying to convince myself that I felt better – my mantra was, "I am cleansed. I am pure. I am holy" – Tanner shoved a letter at me. I received an extremely predictable grunt when I asked, "Who's it from?" It didn't matter. I could already guess. Mother was the only person who would be writing to me.

Because of that fact, I was surprised to see a page filled with a tiny, precise hand, instead of my mother's untidy, sprawling writing. The letter was dated almost two weeks ago. I tried to do some quick figuring, finally coming to the conclusion that Tanner must have had this letter for at least five days. Rolling my eyes and muttering dark comments at his expense, I began to read:

Thomas Pickens,

I smiled at the thought that my given name was becoming unfamiliar to me.

My name is Frank Collins; I am the coroner of your county. I regret to inform you that on [some date that I don't feel like making up] your mother, Mary Hardy Pickens, passed away. Her death was natural, resulting from a sickness that she caught while visiting an ill friend. I am also functioning as a lawyer, and I ask that you return to you home immediately upon receiving this letter to settle the will. Again, I offer my condolences.

Sincerely,

Frank P. Collins

I stared at the letter after I had read it, stood up and walked around the room, then sat down and read it again. Dead. Mother was dead. Had been for quite some time, apparently. I was amazed at how clearly I was thinking as I realized that that explained the absence of letters. I walked upstairs slowly to see Snitch sitting on his bed.

"How was choich?" he asked with a smirk. Then without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Skitts is in a better mood today. He didn't say anyt'ing 'bout last night, dough. Jus' woke up smilin' again, same as always, an'...say, are you alright? 'Cause you look like someone jus' died." He chuckled. "What're dey doin' to you at dat choich, anyway?"

"My mother," I said faintly.

"What about yer muddah?" Skittery asked, walking in.

I cleared my throat. "Someone did just die. My mother." I began to babble, "Well, actually, she didn't just die, but I did only just get the letter." Somehow, telling them made it extremely real. I began to shake.

"Are you alright?" Snitch asked me quietly.

"Sure," I lied, "it's just, you know, she was my mother. And, well, I hadn't seen her in a while, but I just...I'm going to miss her." My hesitant words seemed to hang about me. They were inadequate for what I was feeling. And yet, what was I feeling? Not very much, that was for sure. I was shaking and very sad, but it didn't seem like enough. "Why am I not crying?" I asked desperately. "My mother died. I love her. She's a wonderful mother." A thought struck me, and I corrected myself, "Well, was, anyway. What kind of terrible person am I that I don't cry when my mother dies?"

Any other time, I would have laughed at the lost expression on Skittery's face. He so obviously didn't know what to do. He couldn't say a single thing to me to alleviate my pain, although he had gone through so much more than I. That's the way things are on the streets, though. You can't let grief in, because one bad thing comes after another, and soon you're grieving all the time. So, you push back sorrow, shove it out of your mind to deal with later, and you just forget about it. Skittery had experienced more pain than I ever had, but he couldn't help me because he couldn't help himself.

Snitch stood up hesitantly and walked over to me. He squatted in front of me, where I sat on my bed, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Yer not a bad poison," he insisted. "You jus' dunno what to do yet."

I nodded. "Could you just...I just want..."

"Sure, we'll leave you alone," Snitch straightened back up, looking undeniably relieved. We'll jus' be downstairs if you need anyt'ing, awright?"

I sat there for a long time after they left, before I began packing. Mr. Collins had said soon, and it had already been two weeks. I would surely miss the funeral, but I could at least see her grave, and..." at the thought of my mother's grave, I finally broke down. I cried until I began to frighten myself with the intensity of my sobs. I struggled to calm down, to choke back my tears. Finally, I regained control of myself. I told myself sternly to pull it together. "Yes, Thomas, she was a good mother, and, yes, you loved her, but you've got to control yourself," I said sternly to the mirror. "You've got to take care of yourself now, and no crying is going to change that." Still, I couldn't repress a little shudder at the thought that I was now completely alone.

I don't know how long I sat upstairs, but, when I finally headed down, I had carefully erased all signs of tears, and I was carrying a suitcase. Snitch started up. "Where're you goin'?" he asked.

"I've got to go home," I replied. "There's some stuff I need to clear up."

Snitch nodded, and Skittery asked, "But you'll be comin' back, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't have anything to stay there for. Now," I whispered. "I'm going to talk to Tanner," I said, louder. After everything was settled with him – I was to have the week off and be back by next Sunday – I turned to go. "Oh, Snitch?" He looked up. "Um, tell Maria 'bye' for me. Soon, please, so she doesn't wonder where I've been all week. And tell her I won't be able to see her Saturday night, but I'll try to come by on Sunday."

He nodded and shook my hand. "I'll see you in a week. And," he looked uncomfortable, "it's gonna be OK, Specs."

"Yea," Skittery muttered, "jus' hang in dere, awright?"

"Hang in there," I thought as I walked out the door, "I'll do my best."

Y'all, I know the insults exchanged between Snitch and Specs were lame, but I just couldn't think of anything that wouldn't make them look like jerks. And you know what else I noticed? Snitch, Specs, and Skittery – all "S"s. Weird, huh?

OK, I told myself that I wouldn't do it. I swore that I wouldn't beg. But I just can't hold out any longer! REVIEW! Please. Look at the way I'm degrading myself, and review out of pity. Or, you know, because you like/dislike the story. Whatever floats your boat. And then, I'll answer in the story, and you can be as cool as these lucky people:

Smartass: Very nice detective work on the Skittery thing. And I'm glad you liked that chapter so much. (sigh) I wish that I had a guy like Specs. Or at least who thought I was as wonderful as he thinks Maria is. Wow, OK, it's really sad when you start having crushes on your own characters!

I'm so glad that you like this story so much! I love reading your reviews, they're such confidence boosters!

You should definitely do everything in your power to go to camp next year. Any camp, really, although Kahdalea is, of course, the best. I think that everyone should go to camp. But I'm not biased or anything.

Koodles: I know, Skittery is the greatest. I just want to hug him. Although, like I just told Smartass, I'm obsessed with the way Specs just worships Maria. Great balls of fire! He is so cute! And you know what else? I'm only just realizing that Specs actually is pretty cute. I'm going to have to go watch the movie again (big sacrifice there) and check that out.

Daydream: Evidently Skitts was pretty obvious, because a few people guessed him. Well, I guess that's good, in a way. And Kahdalea is pretty small and a lot of the people who go there are from Baton Rouge, so I guess most North Carolinians (well, what else would you call yourself?) wouldn't have heard of it.