Chapter Three: The Note

Criss-Cross felt her mind slowly drifting back, and was about to open her eyes, but then what she'd seen before she passed out came back to her. What if Specs was still there? She opened her eyes a slit and saw a face right above hers.

"Kat? Kat Conlon?" Dark, her fellow resident was standing over her. Criss-Cross sat up fast, causing her hat to fall off, and punched him hard in the nose.

"How many times I'se gotsta tell yas? Da name's Criss-Cross! CC foah shoit if yas can't membah it, chump!" she hissed at him, furious. Her temper was running high as shereached back for her fallen hat.

"Sorry,"Dark said, rubbing his nose. "What happened?"

"It's none a yer business," Criss-Cross grumbled at him. She twirled her hair up and stuffed her cabby hat on over it, causing her appearance to change from that of a rather pretty girl to a that of a cute, tough boy. Her glare finished it off.

As she stood up, she realized that Specs was nowhere to be seen. Had it just been her imagination? Or had he really been there? Shaking her head, she walked back to where she'd been perched on her stool before the stranger had come, and sat down to finish her bowl of stew.

"Alright..."Dark said. Finally, after a moment's silence, he turned and walked up the stairs to the bunkrooms, leaving Criss-Cross to her rather muddled thoughts.

Wells, I'se guess it was jus' me imagination gettin' ta me... Criss-Cross thought as she pull off her shirt and pants that night. Wearing just the men's underwear she always wore and her hat (she'd grown accostumed to sleeping in it back in the boys lodging houses she had stayed in when she'd been living in New York that she still slept with it on), she slipped under the old quilt covering her bed. She stretched her legs out long, and as she did, the sole of her foot hit something cold and metal. A small scream of surprise escaped her lips as she threw back the quilt to see what it was.

Her eyes grew wide as she saw the gold-tipped cane lying amonst the dull colors of the quilt, around it was wrapped a note. Criss-Cross looked up to see if anyone was watching her, but she had already pulled down the thin sheet that acted as a curtain for her small bunk, and so no one could see her. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch it. For the first time in four years her fingers felt the familiar cool metal. The sensation sent chills up her spine. Excitement seemed to flow from her fingers resting on the metal, all through her body, making the small scar on her head feel hot. With the excitement came a longing she hadn't felt in years...

Criss-Cross gingerly touched the scar. That scar held her last memories of the cane. A memory that she had long tried to forget. She blinked, suddenly realizing how moist her eyes were. It was amazing how such a little thing as a cane could give her such powerful emotions. Realizing she'd forgotten the note, she slowly unwrapped it. There, written in an untidy scrawl was written a short message. It read:

Criss-Cross,
It's been a long time since we'se last talked. Remembah me? It's yer ol' pal Specs. Anyway, sorry ta surprise ya like dat. Ya looked like ya hit yer head pretty hard. Hope you'se okay. Anyway, please meet me at the corner a da street at 10 o'clock. I'se really need ta talk ta ya. Please. Be there. You'se really gotta here what I'se gotta say. We'se all been missin ya bunches-Specs

Criss-Cross gave it some thought and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 9:45. If she was going to meet to meet Specs she'd have to get dressed again and slip out quietly. She sat for a moment, silently carressing the cane as she thought, and then finally she decided what she was going to do.

A/N: Okay, now we're starting to get farther into the story. Please review!