Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I've been frankly dreading this chapter, and I procrastinated writing this chapter all week. It was hell to write. Lemme know if my struggle was in vain.

A' course it's raining, Lunch Money thought bitterly as she shivered, waiting for Feivel's signal. That will make everything much easieh. She stood with Nix, Ritz, Starboard and Rodeo, all of them waiting in the shadows across the road from the front gates of the refuge. From their position, they could see Feivel and Tease at the end of the alley next to the refuge, both girls preparing to run. Also in their line of sight were a number of thuggish guards, patrolling the perimeter of the building, just inside the high brick wall surrounding the place.

Feivel's voice shattered the air. It was a heart-stopping, strident noise that made Lunch Money jump. Her first shriek trailed off into nothing, and she had just enough time to take another breath before letting out a second. As Nix had predicted, the guards sprung into action by the start of her second scream. Six or eight guards ran forth, abandoning their posts in order to come to aid of the young screaming girl. The front gates opened, momentarily presenting the four newsgirls across the street with an opportunity.

"Go!"

They ran like the hounds of Hell were on their heels. Under the cover of darkness, the girls slipped through the gates, inside the walls of the refuge. As she ran between Nix and Rodeo, Lunch Money found herself listening closely to the activity outside the walls. From the sounds of it, both girls had managed to escape, for the time being, but the police were still in hot pursuit of Tease and Feivel.

"This is it! This is it, guys." Nix skidded to a stop, looking up at one of the windows. It was barred, and fairly high up— at least thirty feet off the ground. Nix slid the coil of rope off of her shoulder and began unwinding it. The end of the rope was weighted with a lead pipe, which they figured could double as weapon if they later found themselves in need. But for now, it was just an aid for their infiltration.

"Ya gonna hafta get it around that." Nix said, indicating a smokestack on the roof, just above the window. The chimney wasn't an impossible target, but it was indeed challenging. Lunch Money swung the rope, the way Jack had showed her one summer day when the news was slow, and aimed a toss. She missed. The pipe fell back to the ground with a resounding clang. The girls froze, listening for the sound of the bulls coming down on them. None came. Lunch Money took a deep breath and tried again. Three more times she missed after that. The girls flinched at every clang of the pipe tied at the end of the rope. Lunch Money could feel Nix getting anxious, repeatedly checking over her shoulder for Snyder or some other authority to catch them.

"You'se horrible at this." Nix hissed. Lunch Money ignored her. Did she say she could swing a rope like Cowboy? Did she look like a girl with a Santa Fe fetish? On her fifth try, Lunch Money managed to swing end of the rope over the low chimney, and the pipe returned to the earth one last time, this time looping the rope around the smokestack. Great, now came the hard part.

Lunch Money sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, and approached the building. She clasped her hands around the rope and hoisted herself off the ground. Ritz, Rodeo and Nix grabbed the other end of the twine and held it tightly.

"If ya let me fall, it'll be me blood on ya hands." Lunch Money muttered as the three girls struggled to hold Lunch Money over the pavement. It was a bit like rock-climbing, Lunch Money thought of the cables and chains she'd seen at a rock-climbing exhibit when the World's Fair came through New York. She was rock-climbing without rocks.

It was an awfully good thing she had some upper body strength in her, or Lunch Money felt certain she would have plummeted to her doom. As it was, she felt the skin on her hands tearing against the round wound rope, and the muscles in her arms screamed with pain. She slowly, agonizingly pulled herself up the thirty feet, aided by the occasional jutting brick and the three newsgirls hoisting her up like a fish being reeled in on a fishing line.

By some miracle, she made it. Lunch Money eagerly grabbed a hold on the bars outside the windows, and stepped onto the narrow sill. Reaching through the bars, she made a fist, with the intent to rap smartly on the glass to get the boys' attention. Evidently she had already attracted someone's attention, because the window slid open before she could knock.

"What happened ta not gettin' involved with any newsie business?"

"So I changed me mind." Lunch Money shrugged, surprised to see that Spot's expression was not mockingly and smug, like she'd expected, but cold and angry.

"Yeah, okay, Lunch." He rolled his eyes, starting to shut the window. "Just get outta heah befoah ya get caught." Lunch Money made to stop him from closing the pane, but her footing slipped and she started to fall backwards. The newsgirls below her gasped, and Lunch Money herself uttered a surprised cry. Spot grabbed her arm, pulling her forward so that she could regain her balance. They looked at each other, shaken and pale-faced.

By this time the other newsboys had noticed the scene at the window, despite the Manhattan newsies' determination to ignore Spot. Since the conversation Racetrack and Spot had had the other night, the seven Manhattan newsboys had given Spot the cold shoulder—even Jack, to Spot's surprise. Of all the newsies, he had expected Jack would at least remain on friendly terms with him. But Jack was just as distant as Racetrack and Mush. The Manhattan boys were convinced that Spot had taken advantage of Lunch Money, and they were all thoroughly horrified by the thought. Still, when they did finally look toward the window, they were astonished.

"Lunch!"

"Lunch Money!"

"I knew ya weren't gonna leave the newsies fa'eveh!"

"What the hell ya wearin', Lunch?"

"Heya, fellas!" Lunch Money grinned at her friends, "Ya wanna help me get these bars off?" She pulled a short, narrow crowbar from a deep pocket of her skirt and passed it through the bars. The bars were secured both inside and out, and it took several minutes to completely disengage the bars from the brink wall. They pulled the metal contraption into the dorm, and Lunch Money climbed inside after it. She was out of breath, her hands were still bleeding from gripping the rope and her arms were so sore, they felt like they were going to fall off. The instant she was inside the dorm, her friends barraged her with hugs and excited greetings. Lunch Money enthusiastically returned the greetings—it seemed like ages since she'd seen them. But the one person she'd really wanted to talk to was Spot. Lunch Money thought she owed him a-- well, not exactly an apology, but she knew she owed him something after what she'd done. She hoped she would get a chance once her friends had cleared off a bit. No such luck.

"It's Snydeh!" One of the other refuge boys hissed from his bunk. The Manhattan boys quickly set the bars against the window, hoping to create the illusion that the barred window had never been tampered with.

"Lunch, get down!" Jack ordered. She ducked behind the boys, who tightened into a phalanx formation around her.

Snyder made his entrance. He looked happier than anyone could remember the old man looking, which almost certainly spelled trouble for the newsies. The silver lining to his obvious glee was that he was too distracted to notice either the near-destroyed window, or the girl crouching just out of sight.

"Conlon. Sullivan." He beckoned maliciously to the boys. Jack and Spot stepped forward, both giving Snyder cold, defiant looks. "I'd like to have a little chat with you boys. So would the magistrate." He clapped them around the shoulders in a false show of fatherly feeling. Jack didn't even react; he just stared straight ahead, obviously trying not to let his temper get the better of him. Spot shrugged Snyder's hand off his shoulder with a scowl. Snyder spared Spot a menacing glance then led the two boys from the room.

"Spot—!" Kid Blink clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her cry. Lunch Money glared at him and jerked away. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Lunch Money had been so close, had even been talking to Spot, and she hadn't told him. Now who knew when she'd see him next?

"Ya wanna get caught, Lunch? What's a' matteh wit' ya?"

"Listen, Lunch." Racetrack said seriously, "You don't hafta worry about Conlon no more."

"Whaddya mean?" Lunch Money stared at her brother, confused. "Whaddya mean, I don't hafta worry about Spot?"

"We told him off." Mush spoke up, his arms folded angrily. Lunch Money bewilderment must have read on her face, because Racetrack sighed.

"Lunch Money, we know what happened. Wit' you and Spot."

"Ya do?" Lunch Money bit her lip. She supposed the truth about her and Spot would come out sometime, but she didn't want to face her friends right now—Nix, Ritz and Rodeo were still waiting outside. They were sort of on a clock.

"Yeah." Racetrack nodded, "Spot's scum, Lunch; we told him off, and we ain't talkin' ta him anymore. Don't worry."

"This isn't the place ta—" Lunch Money changed direction mid-sentence. "What? Why ain't ya talkin' ta Spot? He didn't do nuttin', I'm the one who left; I'm the one who—wait. What didja think happened between us?"

The newsboy all glanced at each other awkwardly. They didn't really want to explain such a delicate subject outright. Oh dear Lord. Lunch Money inwardly rolled her eyes, Could Racetrack get anymore paranoid? He thinks Spot raped me, doesn't he? They all think that's what happened.

"Racetrack, you gotta be kiddin' me." Lunch Money shook her head, "You thought he'd actually take advantage of me like that?"

Racetrack looked chagrined. "Well, it shoah looked like that's what happened. I mean, you runnin' off and everything? And c'mon, Lunch, I saw him kiss ya."

There was an instant uproar at his words.

"What?"

"You kissed?"

Lunch Money glared at Racetrack mutinously. Her brother sure knew how to screw things up. "Al'right, get this straight, ya bummehs. I'se neveh been raped. Not by thugs in some alley, coirtainly not by Spot. He didn't do nuttin' bad enough fa' you'se ta stop talkin' ta him. So, can we just drop it? We gotta go anyway. Ritz an' Nix an' Rodeo are waitin' fa us."

"But you'se two kissed?"

"I said drop it, Mush."

Lunch Money turned back to the window, and moving the bars away from the window once again, she climbed back out. She gave the rope two sharp tugs to let the girls outside know she was coming down, and she began to rappel back down the wall. Lunch Money jumped the last few feet, barely able to keep her feet upon landing.

"Sorry, that took so long, guys, I tried ta hurry, but that bastard Snydeh was hangin' around." She said, turning around to face the other newsgirls. Nix wasn't there though. Neither was Ritz or Rodeo. Snyder stood in their place, sneering. Behind him was a group of coppers, looking stern and intimidating. Lunch Money felt her insides lurch unpleasantly. The air vanished from her lungs. She had just been caught.