Shout Outs!

m-e lee 12: wow, when you reviewed this last chapter we were still SOPHMORES and taking AP EURO! BOOYA! does a jig SNAP! We passed the AP Ex-am! We passed the AP Ex-am! Now we get to work on our summer work for AP LANGUAGE! …wohoo…or for those of us who didn't do their work, rush around at the last minute and finish it the hour before its all due! Blah!

TheAngryPrincess13: sorry about the flame. Everyone's a critic! I'm glad you like my story! grins Ah, well, MANY of my old stories are EXTREMELY pathetic since I started writing when I was like, 12. AND before I started reading any other fanfictions so I didn't even know other people did this kind of stuff. Well, hope you like this chapter that took me FOREVER to upload! Ta.

SORRY EVERYONE! waves to the three people who read the story Updating for me is like pulling teeth. And now, of all times, I actually am updating. I'm starting AP Language this year and I have about eight essays due tonight by midnight. Oh…and I still need to read Slaughterhouse Five before I can start writing one of them….oops…anywho.

Been off frolicking with the Lord of the Rings/Harry Potter Crossovers….sorry for the long wait. Hopefully once I get back into a schedule, things will get a bit better. Hope you like the chappie!

It all starts with a little thing. Something that goes wrong, or is different that throws off your routine entirely. Then its all downhill from there. My mind races, devising solutions or possible scenarios to correct or alter the situation, or ways in which I could have acted differently to change the outcome of my actions. This is what happens every so often, and inevitably this occurs right at the time in which I was aiming to sleep.

I have I problem. My brain works well enough on its own during the day. Unfortunately, it never seems to want to turn itself off. Sleep deprivation only increases the chance of failures, and sadly, me worrying about a test or project will keep me up all night and ironically cause the failure in which I was so worried about to begin with.

I hate insomnia.

At night, nothing makes sense. Everything makes sense. The world is twisted. People are out to get you. Drama and emotion override the logic and reasoning of the brain when night takes it's hold on the world.

I have a horrible problem. I can't sleep. Before the jump back it hadn't been so bad, possibly the tons of school work and activities was tiring myself enough for my physical needs to override my psychological crisis. In elementary school and middle school getting to sleep at night was a challenge in itself. Every so often, the problem presented itself again, but to a lesser extent than before. (Maybe because I HAVE to stay up to 1:00 a.m. doing homework, out of necessity)

Now, although there was no final project or DBQ due the next day, sleep was evading my eyes and dreams seemed unobtainable.

Damn. I really was tired. I looked around the bunkroom, listening to the faint sounds of the mass of boys breathing. I scowled at my brother next to me. How easy it always had been for him to sleep-napping was second nature to him, and he could do so anywhere.

I sighed and stared blankly, counting the nail holes in the bunk above me for what seemed liked the hundredth time. I was nervous, and jumpy.

My hands fidgeted annoyingly under my covers. My back ached from the motionless position I had assumed for over an hour. Suddenly I remember my bag under my bunk. I quickly and silently reached for it and slid it out from it's hiding spot. Opening up the smallest zipper, I found my plastic bag filled with precious tea bags.

"Ah ha," I barely whispered upon my discovery. Tea that made me sleepy. I smiled as the faint aroma of chamomile and rose seeped through the bag. As a final thought, I also grabbed my iPod and stuck it, along with the tea bag I had extracted from the bag, into my pocket. Slowly I replaced the backpack under the bunk and crept slowly from my bed.

Stealthily and as quietly as I could manage on the old squeaky boards, I crept from the bunkroom and made my way into the hall. As I shut the door, I eased up a little. More comfortable knowing that I would not wake anyone up, I made my way down the stairs to the bottom landing.

Kloppmann's desk, just across from the stairs. I continued straight towards it and ducked behind the counter to where the door was. Reaching out to grab the knob, I opened the door with a slight squeak.

Behind the door was a sort of makeshift kitchen. A tiny stove with a few pots and pans stacked on top of it, a coffee grinder, and a sink. Next to the sink was a cabinet, and upon further inspection I found it to contain dozens of mismatched bowls, plates, cups, forks, spoons, and knives. Each piece looked as though it had belonged to many other owners before coming to rest at the Lodging House.

"I guess Kloppmann must cook sometimes," I murmured while picking up a mug to examine it closer.

I turned to the stove and inspected it closely. It was old. Really old. I examined it closer. A pile of wood lay next to it, and I quickly deduced that this was a wood burning stove.

Ok. Easy. Just like Little House on the Prairie.

I opened up the grate below the stove top and peered inside. Right away I knew I would need more light, and as though by magic, I noticed a lamp placed on a table close to the door. I lit a match from a book I found in the cabinet and watched entranced as the little flame sprung up suddenly then died down to a manageable glowing flicker. I love fire. After lighting the lamp, I turned my attention back toward the stove.

I took wood from the pile and made a little stack in the ashy grate below the stove top. Proud of my little pile of wood, I then sat back on my haunches and lit a match to start the fire with. I threw it into the grate, and it went immediately out.

At once I knew what I had done wrong. Behind the pile of wood sat a smaller pile of tiny twigs-kindling. Haven't I read enough books to know how to do this? Anyway, after altering the arrangement slightly, I again lit another match. This time, the flame ignited when it made contact with the wood. I stepped back and enjoyed the pride I felt at producing my own fire. I poked it with a fire stoker and shut the grate when it seemed safe enough.

I made my way over to the sink. Clutching a pot in my hand, I stuck it under the faucet and filled it with water. I glared at the pot of water, scrutinizing it with my nose scrunched up at the idea of microorganisms having a party in my tea.

I stuck the pot on the stove, which had surprisingly become quite hot with the added flames roaring in it's belly. Then I waited. I was convinced that the water had to boil for a while, to kill any disease causing bacteria that may infect me. I could hear Mr. Szevery's voice echoing ominously in my head from Freshman year. The main causes of the rising death rate in the 1900's in big cities due to close living spaces: Fires, Gangs, Disease.

I hated watching water boil. So very tedious.

I busied myself by taking up the coffee grinder and playing with it.

After a few minutes, the water started to form bubbles at the bottom of the pot. I watched intently, waiting patiently for the bubbles to spring to life. Finally, the whole pot was boiling. I felt safer waiting a little, so I did. After a few more minutes, I took the pot off of the hot stove and set it on a mat on the little table.

How the hell was I going to put out that fire?

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks. I opened the grate carefully with the fire poker, and I peered in to the mass of flames.

I took the pot of water, now it had stopped boiling. I poured the amount I needed into the mug that I had set aside. Holding the still hot pot, I carefully took aim and dumped the rest of the water into the stove. My plan was somewhat successful. Successful in that it DID put out the fire-but it let off huge billows of steam and smoke as well.

I looked into the stove to see if the fire was completely out. It was, but the water I had used to extinguish the flames now lay stagnant in the belly of the stove. I looked around for something…anything. Underneath the stove sat a huge tub…undoubtedly used for washing. I ducked down to grab it when I then noticed a lever attached to the side of the stove. I pulled it.

At once I was glad I hadn't moved the tub. All of the water emptied out of the stove and into the tub, by means of iron holes that had opened up when the lever engaged to sift out the old ash from the stove.

George just lucky I guess.

I emptied the tub of ashy water into the sink, praying that it wouldn't clog or anything. Finally, I turned to my cup of tea, which sat brewing and steaming comfortingly on the side table. Wiping my hands on my clothes, I reached out and grabbed the warm cup and turned towards the door. Before I left, I grabbed the lamp, thinking it would be useful to see my way through the even darker rooms.

With a last look around at the room, I shut the door triumphantly, tea in hand, ready to finally get some sleep.

I look around, letting my eyes adjust to the different room. As I made my way to the stairs, I was suddenly startled by a sound from the door.

"Mmmppfff," it said.

I turned in time to see a silhouette of a body stagger it's way into the Lodging House. I stood still, somewhat afraid to be seen, but I wasn't sure why I would be afraid. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Still, somehow I felt like I would get in trouble for being where I was.

As if it were my own shadow, the figure at the door froze. I waited there, waiting for the person to make the first move. In the darkness, I could tell it was a newsie, at least, it was the figure of a teenage boy, but which newsies I did not know.

Sorry for the short chapter. REVIEW PWEASE! The more reviews, the faster I update-I SWEAR! Thanks!

Brownie