As I slept, I was ten years old again.

The building was huge. I was afraid to go in, but I trusted Jack. The doors closed, and everything was dark until my eyes adjusted. Jack put a hand on my back and led me towards a reception desk.

The receptionist looked like he hadn't been happy in years. "And what can I do for you...gentlemen?" he asked as he stuck his nose in the air.

"My friend here and I need to talk to Pulitzer," Jack replied. "Now."

The receptionist laughed a bit. "You can't see Mr. Pulitzer," he said.

"But we're—"

"Nobody sees Mr. Pulitzer."

"Listen, I ain't in the habit of transacting no business with office-boys, all right," Jack growled. "You tell him that Jack Kelly's here to see him now."

The receptionist stood up and walked around the desk. He grabbed Jack and me both by our collars ("HEY! What the hell--? Get offa me!") and pulled us towards the door, and kicked it open when we got there. "Get out, you hooligans!" he yelled as he threw us out of the building. My eyes were blinded with sunlight.

"Well so's your old lady!" Jack retorted. "You tell Pulitzer he needs an appointment with me!"

"Yeah!"

Just then, I was tugged out of youth and dreams, and I was harshly sixteen again.

You know how you wake up in the morning with no idea where you were, or why you were there? Well that's how I felt that morning. Half of me was under my bed. I had a pain in my neck and I was still wearing everything I had on the night before—even my coat, and those stupid mittens.

I'm on the floor, I thought. Why am I on the floor? ...Was I drunk? ...Am I still?

I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. At that moment I remembered. The girl—Rosemary—had been sleeping in my bed. The blood in my hands had frozen. I wasn't drunk, I was sober. Poppy—she kissed me, kind of. Blink left town. Everything was coming back out of order.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know what time it was. I shuffled the part of me that was under the bed out from there and sat up. The bunkroom was absolutely deserted, save for one small figure three feet away from me, sitting on my bed.

Now that I actually looked at her, I could definitely tell she came from Kid Blink. She had the same color hair and the same color eyes. Her face spelled negativity but somehow you knew that wasn't the case. Her dress was obviously made from two of Blink's shirts sewn together. And yet with all the Blink in her, she was still half-foreign to me.

"Hi," I said quietly. Rosemary didn't say anything, she just stared at me. The poor kid looked so sad. I was afraid she'd cry.

"Um...I'm Les. You're Rosemary, right?" Again I got no reply. "How old are you?"

She held out five fingers. So the kid could count. That was good. "Five...all right. Well, I gave you all my money yesterday, or else I would get you something to eat."

"I already ate," Rosemary said quietly.

I blinked. Confusion. again?"

"I said I already ate," she repeated. Clearly she wasn't stupid. "A mean-looking boy with a cigarette gave me some bread."

I managed a smile. It was things like that which proved that you could find a heart in Johnny if you really looked. "Are you still hungry?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Where's papa?" she asked.

Uh-oh. "Um, where did he tell you he was going?" Hopefully I could dodge an honest answer until I could figure out somewhere to put her.

She shrugged. "He said he'd be back."

I fought the urge to yell at her, "Well your father is a bum, and he ain't comin' back because he's irresponsible!" but that would just be rude. "Uh, well Rosemary—"

"You can call me Rosie. I like you."

For the second time in a minute, this kid caught me totally off-guard. I blinked before continuing, "Um, okay Rosie. You see, your papa's gonna be gone for awhile."

"When's he coming back?"

Never. "Soon."

Rosie was silent for a couple of moments. Then her eyes lit up. "Papa said you'd teach me how to read," she said with an innocent smile.

It was strange hearing Blink referred to as "Papa." When I thought of "Papa", I thought of, well, my own father. Just then it occurred to me that this Rosie and I had something in common: our fathers were gone. I bit the inside of my lip.

"Yeah, I'll teach you to read," I said. I took a deep breath and smiled. "I'll teach you everything."


This was short and sweet. Hope it was enough! I find that whenever I'm bored, I start to write more of this, and then all of a sudden there's enough for a chapter. I know all my chapters are relatively short, but such is the life of the little Jacobs boy!

Raeghann—Thanks! I always thought Les would be more well-liked had he been about six years older, and so that's why I write about him. I read some of your stories, and they're great! No time to review though...mostly coz me = lazy. But just so you know—I've been reading!

Buttons—I donno if Poppy's gonna show up for awhile. We'll see! I'm making this all up as I go along. Hope the semi-flashback in this chapter was good enough for you! ï