"Becky," I hissed, one leg thrown over the windowsill, the other still back in my room, "Please, don't look at me like that—"

Becky crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at me through the darkness. She was a light sleeper—how had I forgotten that? Hades snored like a lumberjack and Becky would wake up at the drop of a pin. "What do you think you're doing, Rose? How did you get that window open? If anyone catches you…"

"They won't! Not if you keep quiet. I bribed one of the maid's and got the key. She's expecting it back tomorrow morning or else she's ratting me out." I carefully pulled my other leg over the windowsill, silently commending myself for the brilliant idea of stealing a pair of boys pants from the orphanage mending pile. Much more convenient for climbing in and out of windows than a dress, no doubt.

Hades rolled over in her bed, and my heart quickened a beat. "Please, Becky, go back to bed. Or, you know what, stay up and wait– I don't care. I won't be out for long."

With a resigned sigh, Becky sat down on her bed, hands clasped together. "I'll be waiting for you to get back," she whispered as I disappeared down the fire-escape, "be careful!"

I hadn't been outside at night for years, and the city was a different world. I practically ran to our designated meeting spot, the shadows morphing into menacing shapes and strange noises assaulting my ears. What had happened to that brave, fearless girl I'd used to be?

But then I guess that's what happens when you get locked up in a convent for a few of years. You sort of lose that edge, ya know?

The walk took longer than I thought, even with all that running, and by the time I got there I had convinced myself that Pete would have already come and gone. I sat down slowly on a deserted front stoop and sighed. Left alone again.

"Rose?" A sharp whisper made my head snap up. Pete was walking toward me, squinting through the dark. I stood up slowly. "Yeah, it's me…"

He stopped a few feet from me and took off his cap, then set to twisting it around in his hands. "I didn't think you'd make it."

I shrugged. "The Sister's are heavy sleepers."

"Yeah? Well, that makes thing's easier, I guess."

"Yeah."

Silence descended upon us like a fog, and after a few minutes of this Pete laughed uneasily. "This is um…strange, ya know? Talkin' to someone who up until a few hours ago I thought was dead…"

"Yeah," I said quietly, "but I'm not dead. Just...lost for awhile."

Pete cleared his throat. "Look, Rose, about that night..."

It took no more than that for me to snap.

"What, Pete, are you planning on apologizing to me? You think you can just say you're sorry and everything will be okay? You...you disappeared. You deserted me. Why did you do that to me, huh Pete? Why?" Four years worth of questions came flooding out of my mouth, and the burning behind my eyes threatened tears. I fought for my composure. I wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him, at least.

"Hey hey, hold on a second. I never deserted you. It was an honest mistake. I was drunk. We just lost each other. I didn't know it would lead to…"

"To losing me forever? To me almost dying? Because that's what happened, ya know. I almost died." Now I was on a roll, cheeks flushed from frustration. Pete almost looked sorry. Almost. This was Pete Conlon, let's not forget.

"We looked for ya. Me an' Jimmy did. But the snow was comin' down real hard an—"

"Yeah," I interrupted sharply, "I know. I spent the night in it, remember?

Silence again. I glared steadily at Pete, who was glaring right back with eyes full of frustration and anger. Finally, he looked away, giving up. Apparently he had forgotten that his eyes, his menacing glare, had no effect on me. "Look," he finally muttered after clearing his throat and recollecting his pride, "don't be angry at me. It was an accident. We was all drunk and young and stupid…it could of happened to anyone, and it just happened to be you. I didn't lose ya on purpose, Rose. I'd never do that. You were like a sister to me."

I rubbed my fingers across my forehead, sighing shakily. A moment later I felt Pete's arms around me. He was whispering in my ear. "I don't wanna fight now that I finally found you again, okay?" I nodded into his chest. Things hadn't changed. I still couldn't say no to Pete, and it seemed like he knew it. He stepped away from me and smiled. "Good. Now, when are you going to see me again?"

I blinked. See him again? He might as well be asking for me to make straw into gold. "Um…Saturday night? Right here, at…ten o'clock?" Pete's smirk was making my head spin.

"Okay." He began to walk away from me, still smiling. "Don't you go and forget now, Rosie, okay? Don't stand me up."

I waved, grinning like the idiot I was, as he turned the corner. Stand him up? Never in a million years.

True to her word, Becky was sitting up in her bed staring into the darkness as I climbed silently back into my bedroom. Upon seeing me, she heaved a huge sigh—of relief, I think.

"I was convinced you were dead," she whispered as she hugged me tightly. "Did you see him?"

I nodded happily. "Oh Becky, he's exactly the same."

"That's good. Did you ask him about the night that you...and he..." She trailed off, looking at me expectantly. I shrugged.

"I did, and he said it was an accident. He said it could've happened to anyone. Which is true, ya know?" I busied myself with changing back into my nightgown. "I mean, it could've. It definitely could have."

Becky looked skeptical. "And that's it? You forgave him just like that?"

I moved back to my own bed, carefully concealing the stolen pants under my mattress and pulling my nightgown over my head. "Well…yeah. It's Pete." I said, as if that explained everything. Of course to me, it did.

Becky sighed softly, snuggling down under the covers. She was to nice to call me out for my idiocy, to be the one to take the blinders from my eyes. Becky would let me be, because for the first time since she had known me, she saw me truly happy. "Okay," was all she said, and then was silent for a few minutes, long enough for me to think she had fallen asleep, until she lifted herself up on one elbow and peered at me through the darkness. "Rose?"

I was nearly asleep myself. "Hm?"

"Are you going to leave?"

I opened my eyes. She sounded so... sad. "Leave?"

"The convent. Are you going to leave? For good, I mean?"

I laughed a little, and thought about it, and the words that filled the dark space between us surprised even me a bit. "Not for a bit, Becky. Not until I know what my choices are. Don't worry."

I shut my eyes again, and I could hear Becky settle back in bed. "Okay," she said softly, "good."

And just like that, he was back in my life.

As far as I was concerned, he was the only thing in my life. He was all I thought about. Him, Jimmy, Theresa…my whole other world outside the convent.

By the time Saturday night rolled around, I had found something else to bribe the maid with, thankfully. I was worried there wouldn't be anything she might want. You'd be surprised how picky poor kids can be.

But two extra-shiny green marbles did the trick, and 9:45 on Saturday night found me once again half in, half out of the window, Becky standing close-by, shaking her head. "But it's so early…"

Hurriedly I rolled the rest of the way out onto the fire escape. "Everyone's been asleep for more'n half an hour. Becky, It'll be fine, ok? Trust me." With that I disappeared silently down the ladder, not bothering to say goodbye to poor Becky, who watched me go with a disapproving frown.

This time it was Pete who was waiting for me, leaning against the wall all suave and collected, a cigarette dangling between his lips. When he spotted me he pushed himself standing in one fluid, graceful motion. "Heya doll. You ready to go?"

Caught off guard, I blinked some. "Go where?"

He laughed, flicked the cigarette away into the street and grabbed my hand. "I wanna show you somethin'. C'mon."

There was a sign swinging above the building's green front door.

Newsboys and Newsgirls Lodging House

Brooklyn, New York

I stood there staring at it while Pete grinned next to me. "So, what'd ya think?"

"I... I think I'm kinda confused. You live here?"

He nodded, pulling the door open. "Well, yeah. It's only fitting for the leader of the Brooklyn newsies." A hint of pride colored his voice.

I smiled broadly as we stepped inside. "So you took Jimmy's place then. When did he get married?"

Pete paused to look at me, a strange expression on his face. "He…never got married."

"But his girl–Marie? He gave her a ring an' everything, remember? Your mother was so happy."

Pete shook his head quickly, eyes darkening. "He didn't marry her. He left soon after you did. I haven't heard from 'im since."

My face fell. Jimmy was gone? The scowl on Pete's face told me the subject of his brother was not a good idea, and so I moved on hastily, tucking my questions about Jimmy Conlon away for another time. "And what about your mother?"

Pete turned away from me sharply, his voice gruff. "She died last year. Doctors said she had a bad heart."

He disappeared into a room to our left, and I followed, not knowing what else to do, much less say. It was still sinking in. Theresa and Jimmy Conlon were no longer there, no longer a part of Brooklyn. I could not stretch my brain around that, around how easily people can just disappear, like fog right before sunrise.

Looking up, I realized that Pete was talking softly to me as he collapsed onto the couchso softly I could barely hear him. "…I just keep forgetting you haven't been around for so much. I mean…not even the Lodging House. Not even Ma. Christ."

I sat down next to him, eager to turn the conversation toward a brighter path. "So, tell me about this place. Girls sell newspapers now? Like, more than one?"

Pete chuckled. "Yeah. But ya know, you'll always be the one of th' first." He punched my arm, and I gently shoved him back, grinning. "This place started bout two years ago…that's when us Brooklyn boys became official "newsies", and let girls join, too. There are two bunkrooms, one male, and one female. We get one free meal a day, dinner…"

"But it's usually a sorry excuse for food. Trust me." Someone interrupted Pete's speech, and we both looked up to see a short, smiling girl leaning against the doorjamb. Pete smiled slightly. "Hey, Bittah. What are you still doin' home?"

Bittah snickered. "I was just on my way out when I heard ya down here, Spot. But now that I see your, um…" She eyed me and smirked, "…busy, I'll leave ya to it. Have a nice night." With a wink, she disappeared out of sight.

Next to me, Pete groaned. "Great. I give Mix about five minutes before she's in here, ripping my head off about 'cheatin' on her. Again."

I looked at him as something occurred to me. "She called you Spot..."

Pete shrugged. "Yeah…everyone does now. Most of 'em don't even know me real name."

"Oh." I sat back, thinking this over, not liking it one bit. "Well, just to let ya know, I ain't callin' ya anything but Pete. I always hated Spot." I made a face, and he laughed.

A few minutes later, the calm of our quiet conversation was broken by a loud yell, accompanied by the slamming of the front door. "Conlon! Where are ya, ya dirty rotten…"

Pete sighed, peering up at the mantle clock. "What'd I say? Five minutes? I underestimated 'er."

Eyebrows raised, I watched as a girl with long, wavy ebony hair came stomping into the room. Her hazel eyes flashed with anger as they looked me over. "Who the hell is this?" An accusatory finger went out in my direction. Pete stood up.

"Hey, Mix, don't talk to 'er like dat. There ain't no need to be rude."

I blinked. Mix? Why didn't any of these people have normal names?

"There's a god damn need for me to know who dis girl is who you're cheatin' on me with," Mix spat, still glaring at me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, only to have Pete start talking first.

"Relax, will ya? I'm not cheatin' on ya. She's an old friend."

Mix did not look convinced. Her eyes shifted slowly from me to Pete, back and forth, like a pendulum. "An old friend, eh? What's 'er name den? I want details."

"I'm Rose Nolan," I said, my voice much too loud. "I've known Pete since…well…since forever." Pete nodded, and we both gazed evenly at Mix, whose face was contorted in a spiteful frown.

"Pete? I thought no one called you that, Conlon. At least, that's what you told me. You told me to call ya Spot."

Pete sighed and rolled his eyes. "Christ, Mix, she's like me sister. Of course she calls me Pete. She doesn't know Spot Conlon. Only Pete."

Mix snorted and threw me a glare before turning to leave. "Well Rose, here's some advice, from me to you. You leave Spot alone, ya hear? He is spoken for."

With that she was gone, and I was left sitting stunned on the couch, blinking like a goldfish, mouth slightly ajar. Pete glared after her, voice colored in frustration. "Sometimes I don't know why I put up with 'er attitude…" He said, leaning against the mantle and running his hand through his hair.

"You've got a girlfriend," I said slowly, turning this very strange concept over in my mind.

"Well, I had a girl…. We'll see how she feels about it tomorrow." He laughed a little, but the sound stopped suddenly as he watch me rise quickly from the couch and head for the door, muttering.

"I...um...I gotta get goin'." This was too much for me. The fact that Pete had a girl, a very unfriendly one at that, with which he did God knows what with, was making my stomach tie itself in knots.

I felt like I was drowning. I was overwhelmed and over-stimulated and panicking. What had happened to the Pete I used to know? What happened to my world? My hand was turning the doorknob as I felt Pete's touch come down on my shoulder. "What's da matter with you, Rose? Where are ya goin'?"

"Hom—" I caught myself, disgusted. Had I really almost called the Convent home? "Back to the convent. It's late."

"It ain't late. Come on, you just got here. Stay awhile."

I fell into silence, eyes trained on the doorknob, waiting for Pete to let go of me and disappear back into the past, where I was beginning to think he belonged. Finally, I think he got sick of waiting. Slowly he turned me around, big hands on both my shoulders. "Rose..."

Jesus. One syllable and I melted. Reluctantly I brought my eyes to meet his. "Everything's changed," I mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. Pete laughed a little.

"Not everything. I'm still the same old Pete."

I shook my head, frowning. "But you're not. Your Spot Conlon. Leader of Brooklyn. They don't even call you Pete anymore. The Pete I knew…"

Pete's rough fingers reaching up to touch my cheek momentarily distracted me. Suddenly I was all too aware of the closeness of our faces, the sound of his breathing, the way his hair fell into his eyes…

I panicked. He probably wasn't even thinking of what I thought he was going to do, but I panicked still. I suddenly realized that this boy, this gangly, smirking young man, was a stranger to me. A stranger whowas now abit to close for comfort.

My hand searched wildly for the doorknob behind my back, and when I finally managed to turn it open, I pitched backwards, much to the surprise of Pete, who fell right along with me. We landed in a jumble of arms and legs on the front stoop, and the moment I recovered from the shock of the fall I began to struggled to get free of his touch as fast as I could.