Wow, it has been an exceptionally long time since my last update. In fact, it's apparently been long enough for to change it's document manager. Hmm. Anyway, I am so sorry! School is...adfksejao. Seriously, that's the only way to describe it. I should be doing hwrk right now, but, well, I'm not. So y'all better be grateful for this update and review, review, REVIEW!!

The next day, Annie followed her normal ritual: wake up, get da ready for the day, go to work, come home, care for Da… This time, though, she allowed herself to wonder if it was worth it. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life this way. "Yes," she said staunchly to the kitchen sink, "I promised mother." The rest of her explanation was cut off by a knock at the door.

Annie wiped her sudsy hands on a towel, then opened the door to see Race fidgeting before her. "Obviously you haven't talked to Jack," she said drily.

"What?"

"Nothing. Come in," Annie began to open the door wider, then, remembering the scene of last night, hastily shut it so that only her head was visible. "Actually, I'll come out. Jus' hold on for a minute." She frantically scurried about to grab her things, checked on her father, who was drunk enough that she didn't have to worry about him doing anything – He'll just sit here talking to Ma, she thought bitterly – then stepped outside.

The two stared at each other for a moment, before Annie broke the silence. "So," she stated.

"So what?" Race replied automatically, and the two grinned at each other before Annie sharply reminded herself that she was supposed to be isolating herself for her father, not grinning idiotically with Race.

"You came. Not me," Annie said rudely.

Race sobered immediately. "Exactly." Seeing her confused look, he hurried to clarify. "I mean, you haven't come. In a while. An', well, we've all been worried 'bout you."

"That's what Jack said," Annie sighed.

Race looked up quickly. "Jack?"

"He came yesterday," Annie started walking, "We didn't talk for very long." She turned to Race, who was still standing at her apartment door, "Are you comin'?"

He hurried to catch up. "Where're we goin'?" Annie shrugged. "OK…" he trailed off. They walked in silence down the stairs and into the streets. After a few minutes, Race glanced cautiously at Annie, then stopped abruptly, grabbing her arm. "Alright, Annie, what is it? No, really," he objected to her protests, "what's wrong? Why haven't you come to see us, huh?"

Now would be the perfect time to hurt him, to send him and his friends – her friends – away forever. But do I really want to? Her head was spinning, the only thing that drew her back to the moment was his eyes focused on her own. "Who says I wanna see you?" she spat without thinking. "You're not all you think you are, y'know? I jus' got tired of it all."

Race glared at her for a moment before replying. "You're gonna need a better story dan dat, kid. I believe dat you don't wanna see us, dat's obvious, but you ain't sick of us yet." He started walking again, and she followed. "Jus' start talkin' whenever you wanna tell me da truth."

After about ten minutes, Annie began counting the seconds in her head. After exactly 22 minutes and 43 seconds, she snapped. "Alright," she growled, "I ain't sick o' you'se guys. I'se jus'…I can't, alright?" she said desperately.

"Why not?" Race asked calmly.

"Because I can't!" She didn't even have to look at him to know that wouldn't be enough. "'Cause o' my Da," she whispered. She sank down onto the bench next to her, then looked up to realize with some surprise that they were in Central Park – deep in Central Park. Race chuckled at the startled look that crossed her face, then nodded at her to continue. "See, up until I was twelve, I had it pretty good, y'know?" Annie began hesitantly, but soon words were spilling out of her, a story that she had retold to herself time and time again, but never shared. "Ma and Da were so in love – wit' each other and wit' me – and everyt'ing was just…perfect. Da worked in an office, an' Ma was a seamstress. A good one, too. Taught me everyt'in' I know. We used to 'ave so much fun when Da came 'ome from work, an' on Sundays – that was our favorite day.

"Den, da winter after I turned twelve, Ma got real sick. It didn't take too long after dat. Da an' I never really had a chance to realize it before she was gone. An' Da – 'e loved 'er so much. Still does, really. Anyway, 'e took some time offa work, said 'e'd go back in two weeks. But two weeks turned into three, then four, an' I realized dat 'e wasn't plannin' on goin' back. I tried to talk 'im into it, but 'e had gotten into da bottle by den."

She had been staring at her hands through the whole story, but now she looked up at Race, her eyes fierce. "'E's a good man, really. 'E jus' doesn't understand. I couldn't tell 'im – I didn't have the heart – how hard it is for me. Out here," the wave of her hand encompassed the whole of the city, "but mostly in dere. You know we still live in the same apartment dat she did? Dad won't move, even dough we can't really afford da rent. An' 'e drinks like a fish, jus' drinks an' drinks until 'e can convince 'imself dat she's dere, dat da past few years were jus' a terrible nightmare."

The tears that had been threatening to spill over despite her clenched fists and determination suddenly exploded out, and, without either quite understanding how, Annie's head was buried in Racetrack's chest, his arms circling her as he soothed her with senseless words and awkward motions.

Finally, Annie sat up again, wiping her eyes. "I'se sorry," she sniffled, "I don't usually…" she gestured helplessly.

"I know," Race reassured her, pausing for a moment before saying, "So, what are we gonna do about dis?"

"What?" Annie asked, startled. Then she started to laugh – a bit hysterically, it was true, but a laugh nonetheless. "I'se sorry, it's jus' dat I expected you to be all sympathetic an' tell me 'it's OK to cry,' an' 'you deserve better.' Jack would've—anyway, I was bracin' myself for dat; you bein' all practical caught me by surprise."

"Would you rather I was 'all sympathetic,'" Race asked with mock-seriousness, but he didn't even finish the sentence before Annie was shaking her head energetically. "Well, den, what are we gonna do about dis?"

"What do you mean? About what?"

Race rolled his eyes. "About da crime rate in New York," he replied sarcastically. "About you an' your pop, o' course."

"Oh. Um, nothing," Annie began toying nervously with the hem of her shirt. "I've tried everyt'ing to make him stop drinkin' an' realize dat she's not comin' back. Nothin' works."

"OK," Race said slowly, "but what about you?"

"What about me?" Annie asked defensively, obviously trying to stop his questioning with rudeness.

"You can't keep doin' dis to yourself, Annie. I don't know what it is dat's makin' you give up everyt'ing for 'im, but you can't. You gotta have friends, an' fun, an' –"

"He's my Da!" Annie interrupted ferociously, "Dat's what's makin' me stay wit' 'im, an' as for givin' evert'ing up; he is everyt'ing."

Race shook his head helplessly, "Annie, it's not worth it. You said it yourself, 'e doesn't even know where or when 'e is most o' da time."

Annie looked at him angrily, "What do you know? He's my fadder, an' I love 'im, an' you have no right to judge my family."

"Dat ain't a family," Race answered. "A family is parents takin' care of children, it's everyone growin' an' helpin' each other." He leaned towards her, putting a hand on her arm and staring earnestly at her, "You're jus' a kid. I know dat dere's really no such t'ing as kids on da streets, but we all deserve to be taken care of a little. Or at least to not hafta take care of anyone else. It's OK to want to stay wit' your fadder an' take care of 'im, but you gotta let us take care o' you a little bit, too."

The two stared intently at each other before Annie dropped her eyes. "What do you care? It don't matter, I don't matter. Dere's a hundred other kids jus' like me, givin' up everyt'ing every day. Go take care of one o' dem."

Race grinned, "Well, y'see, I would, but I've gotten kinda attached to dis one: Annie."

He reached out to ruffle her hair, but she smacked his hand away, glaring at him. "Why Annie? Annie's just a poor urchin who lives on the streets and probably will die on the streets."

"But you're not just Annie. You're Annabelle," Race replied, then smacked himself in the head. "I can't believe I just said dat!" he exclaimed.

Annie refused to give in to Race's attempts to lighten the mood. "I ain't Annabelle no more! I stopped bein' Annabelle da day my mudder died, da day I had to treat Da like a child!"

Turning suddenly serious, Race gazed at her, all the pain that she was afraid to show evident on his face. He didn't reach out to her, didn't utter any comforting platitudes – he knew better than that. Instead, he pretended not to notice her weakness; the only sign that he even knew she was suffering was the gentleness in his voice as he suggested, "Well, we'll hafta get you a new name, won't we?"

"Like what?" Annie returned angrily.

"Like…" Race pretended to think hard, then grinned gleefully, "Princess!" Annie snorted in disbelief. "OK, dat could be da least princess-y t'ing I've heard all day. Um…Rose. No, no, wait: Lily! Dat's better, but…"

Annie took advantage of Race's idiocies to wipe her eyes and pull herself together again. It didn't take long; hiding all semblance of emotion was something she had to practice often. She was calm soon enough to catch "Snowflake" in the midst of Race's list of names.

"Snowflake?" she asked incredulously. "You have to be kiddin'. Where did dat come from?" She turned to address the rest of the park, "Where could dat possibly have come from?" Then, turning back to Race, she added scathingly, "It hasn't snowed once since I knew you. You are terrible at picking nicknames."

"I'se saved the best for last," he said, smirking as she braced herself for another sickly sweet pseudonym (A/N: how's that for an alliteration?). "Bell."

She wrinkled her nose. "Bell?"

Race sighed, "Look, don't ever tell anyone I'm bein' dis–" he waved his hand helplessly.

"Sentimental?" Annie suggested with a giggle.

"Nice," Race glared at her. "Anyway, I was sayin' Bell because, well, you don't wanna be Annabelle no more, but, well, dat's who you are." Annie struggled not to smile at his obvious discomfort. "So, um, an' you don't wanna be Annie, 'cause Annie's 'jus' some urchin,' right?" He looked to her for confirmation, so she quickly sobered up and nodded. "Well, Bell's all dat's left," he finished triumphantly.

"Bell," Annie said contemplatively. "Yeah, I guess dat could work. Only, I dunno, I'se kinda used to 'Annie' by now. An' 'Bell', it don't really strike fear into da hearts of anyone who meets me, does it?"

"What, an' 'Annie' does?"

"More dan 'Bell'! Bell sounds like some dance-hall mistress or a scared little girl. I don't know which is worse."

Race feigned astonishment, "You're not eidder of dose t'ings?"

Annie gasped, then glared at him. "Oooh, I am gonna beat you into next week for dat," she threatened. He leapt up and dashed off, with Annie in hot pursuit.

She finally caught him at a little pond somewhere in the park. "Took you long enough," Race panted, "guess I'se a little too fast for you."

"You cheated," she said, indignant, "I could barely breathe, I was laughin' so hard at dose stupid cries for help."

"Cries for help! Where?" Race looked around frantically, then grinned down at her. "Oh, you mean dese cries for help:" he pitched his voice higher and began running in circles, flailing his arms about and screaming, "Help! Murder! Police! Fire!" He kept up a steady stream until Annie finally tackled him, then rolled over so that they lay side by side.

"You know I'm still gonna call you Bell, right?" Race addressed the sky.

"Yeah," Annie sighed, staring up at it, too. "Jus' as long as it's only where no one can hear. I don't wanna be mistaken for some dance hall mistress."

Race sat up and glared at her. "Bell is a nice name," he stated.

Annie didn't say anything for a moment, then she sat up, facing him. "I know. And thanks. For…well, thanks."

Race nodded, and they both sat there looking decidedly uncomfortable before Annie leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "It jus' – it seemed like sometin' Bell would do," was her hurried response to his startled look. "I've gotta go."

"Wait," Race called as she began to leave. She turned halfway around. "You really better start comin' 'round again," he threatened, "or I'll be back wit' new names, an' I'll tell people 'bout 'em, too."

Annie stuck her tongue out at him and walked away. Race sat on the grass and stared after her for a long time before getting up, dusting off his pants, and heading home.