A few weeks went by. Torch started to get more comfortable with the others. But every time they offered a place at the Newsboys Lodging House, he declined. He always avoided the question of where he was staying, so one day, Blink got too curious for his own good. He followed Torch home.

Torch walked around the distribution office, down the block, and a hip and a hop to the right got him right in front of another alley. Blink blinked. Right there in the alley, there was a bundle of blankets on a couple crates. A small sack held his few belongings. Across the way was a mound of garbage. It reminded himself of how he used to live before he was a newsie.

Kid stepped to get a closer look, and his shadow fell across Torch, who was pouring that day's earnings into the sack. Torch paused, then turned around and lunged at Kid, knocking him down. Torch's fists were out already, and he was standing ready to give blows.

"Woah, easy dere." Kid threw up his hands. "It's jus' me."

Torch lowered his fists, but that didn't mean his guard was down yet. "Whadda ya doin' heah? Why'd ya follow me?"

"One question atta time. I was jist wonderin' where you'se was livin' dat was betta den livin at da House." Torch helped Kid back to his feet.

"I neva said it was betta, did I?"

"No."

"It's jist…cheaper. Dat's all. More privacy. I don't got nosy brats like you'se crawlin' down me back evry day." Blink bristled at being called a brat, but continued trying to make conversation.

"How 'bout da coppers on da beat?"

"Offica Grady? He's fair. He ain't pulled me in yet." Torch didn't add that he had sneaked blankets to him and that they shared roasted peanuts while talking when he was off the beat. And that he'd convinced the others to "be nice, or I'll make shoah you'se goes back ta filin' fo' da judge."

Kid continued. "Whatcha gonna do when da snow starts fallin'?"

"I'll live. I've done it before."

Kid Blink slid down the wall near the makeshift bed. "So, you don't got fambly either?"

"Does any street kid? Dey all dead. Da fire." Torch sat on the bed, leaning against the wall.

For some reason, Torch was confiding in Blink. He decided to try to keep him talking. "Ya mean da big one in uhh…what was it…Jersey?"

"Yah."

"Dat one was a good sella for da headline."

"Glad I kin help. So, where's your fambly?" Torch didn't even skip a beat while changing the subject. Blink's head whirled, but he managed to answer the question.

"Dead, too. Well, mostly. Dad left my ma when she was pregnant wit me. She died while givin' birth ta me. Ma olda sista, she died in a factory accident. I'm da only one left."

"That's gotta be rough," Torch sighed, while lighting a cigarette.

"Yeh, losin' my folks in da same year, den my sis 6 years lata. But it's betta, now dat I'm wit da newsies. So, really, where are ya from? Ya don't sound like ya from New Yawk."

"I ain't."

"Well, ya can't be from nowheres."

Torch sighed, reluctant to give any information to this nosy, half-blind street rat. "Take a guess. I'll give ya t'ree."

"Ya really like ya privacy, don'tcha?"

"Yah."

Blink wracked his brain for any clues he could pick up from Torch's speech and his habits. "Let's see…I'm thinkin' ya folks immigrated ova…"

"Dey did." Torch blew a ring of smoke out of his mouth.

"And ya from…Switzaland."

"Nah."

"Ireland?"

"Got a wee bit o' it in me, but no." Torch commented with an Irish accent.

"Den…Swedeland."

"Bingo. Whaddaya want fo' ya prize?"

There was a break in conversation. "So, have ya been havin trouble wit da Delancys since ya foist day?"

"Has anyone eva told ya ta mind ya own business?"

"Yeh. I'll take dat as a yes. Why haven'cha told da newsies?"

"Cuz I can handle it on my own." Torch's voice became defensive and what seemed like frustrated, and he stopped leaning against the wall and sat on the bed. Blink snorted.

"Shore ya can, dat's why ya came ta woirk one day wit a nice shina."

"That was jist luck."

"Den why ya been limpin' for real lately, Red?" Blink and Torch jumped up. Morris and Oscar Delancy were standing in the alleyway, blocking any escape. Oscar walked closer. "As I recall, I gave ya da sore hip."

"And I gave ya da shina." Morris grinned proudly.

"And I'm gonna fix ya so none of youse can walk!" Kid Blink charged at the Delancys, Torch right beside him. (Insert a fight scene. Make your own, I suck at these. Kid Blink takes both, Torch cleans up.)

The Delancys ran off, yelling bloody murder.

"Tanks for ya help dere," Torch said grudgingly. Blink shrugged.

"It was nuttin'."

"I still won't come wit ya to da House, but…uhh…couldya do me a favah?"

"Shoah, what?"

"I tink I can trust ya. Take dis," he handed Blink his small sack, "and protect it wit yer life. Don't look in it, don't show nobody, don't give it to nobody cept me. It's got me kale in it, and a few udda things dat's nobody's business."

"Awlright, awlright, I won't look, I'll protect it wit my life, and it's goin in my box at da House. So if'n ya need ta get ya money, or put more in it, its dere."

"Ya swear?" Blink wondered how much he'd have to do to prove he'd do what he said he'd do.

"I swear on da promise of life, on da pain of death, and on da grounds of Brooklyn."

"Tanks."

Kid Blink walked off with the sack underneath his jacket, putting it in his box when he got to the House. He wondered what was in it besides money that was so worth protecting. Normally he would, but he had sworn with the Newsies oath.

Dang it, Blink! Ya really done it up good dis time. Ya even forgot to figgur out what's so strange 'bout da kid.