Chance stumbled around, bleary eyed from only getting a couple hours of sleep, and attempting to avoid questions about where Skittery had been the night before and why he was in Chance's room and Chance was in the bunk room. He ignored everyone, and stomped out of the bunk room, relentlessly pounding on his bed room door, before walking in. He threw open the drapes, letting the sun shine into Skittery's eyes, and then yanked the covers off his head.

"What the fuck!" Skittery exclaimed, rolling onto his stomach and burying his head in his pillow.

"Time ta get up. You's got about five minutes ta get dressed. So I suggest you's get up. Now." Chance wasn't in the mood to play games, and stalked back out of the room, figuring if he didn't get up, it was his own fault for staying out late and doing drugs.

Spot was hanging around outside the room, and waited for Chance to walk past before he let himself into the room. "Where was you's last night?" He greeted Skittery.

Skittery avoided making eye contact and for the first time in his life, he lied to his younger cousin. "Jus' needed some time ta me self," He muttered, climbing out of bed, and trying not to topple over.

"What's wrong wid you's? Ya sick?" Spot asked, tilting his head, watching Skittery attempt to walk a straight line.

"Um, yeah," Skittery replied, distractedly.

Spot watched him for a few more seconds, knowing full well that there was something he wasn't being told, and then he grumbled out of the room, and headed out to sell, deciding he wanted no part of whatever Skittery was up to.

Spot sold by himself for the first half of the morning, until he spotted Chance down the street, and hurried to catch up with him.

"Hey Little Man. Whatcha need?" Chance greeted him, nodding absently to the man buying a paper from him.

"Where was Skittery last night? And why does he look so sick dis mornin'?" Spot wasn't one for idle chit-chat and cut straight to the point, staring at Chance, daring him to deny him the truth.

"It ain't me place ta tell ya. I'm sorry, Spot. But if I was you, I'd leave you's cousin be for awhile. Find someone new ta pal around wid or soin', all right?" Chance threw an arm around his shoulder, which Spot quickly knocked off with a look of disgust.

"T'anks. Dat was real fuckin' helpful," He muttered.

Chance flicked Spot's ear and retorted "Watch ya mouth, kid" before turning and walking away, leaving Spot shooting daggers at his back.

Spot quickly sold the rest of his papers, and was pleased to find he had plenty of time before the next edition to go get something to eat at the diner. He opened the door, and stood in the doorway, letting his eyes roam the dim room, finally seeing Skittery sitting at a table in the corner, with his head down. Spot walked over and pulled out the chair across from him collapsing into it. Skittery didn't stir.

Spot poked him in the shoulder, and he mumbled something, but still didn't move. "Are ya dead? Can I 'ave ya bed, if you's dead?" Spot questioned him.

Skittery raised his head slightly, glaring at his cousin. He tried to think of a clever comeback, but failed, and dropped his head back onto the table. Spot felt a hand drop on his shoulder, and glanced up to see Chance.

"Can I talk ta Skittery a second?"

Spot shrugged and stood up, heading to another table, and Chance dropped into the now vacant seat. Skittery kept his head firmly planted down, refusing to look up at the older boy.

"I was only a year older dan you's when I started to lead da lodgin' house. Didja know dat?" Chance asked, seemingly out of the blue. He got no response from Skittery, but he hadn't expected to, so he continued. "I'm gonna be leavin' da newsies soon. I'm getting too old ta do dis shit. I was kinda hopin' I could count on you's to take over when I leave." Chance waited, hoping he'd get a response to this, but there was none. For all he knew the kid was sleeping across the table and he was talking to air.

"Den you's go and pull some dumb ass move like last night. Am I s'pose ta leave an' den wonder everyday whether or not you's alive or dead in da streets?" Chance waited, finally getting fed up and reaching over and yanking Skittery's head up. "I'm talkin ta ya, kid! How 'bout some respect?"

"You's want respect? Den next time, try not hittin' me," Skittery spat at him, letting his head fall again.

Chance took a deep breath, calming himself mentally before responding. "Well 'ere's da deal. I'm willin' ta overlook you's lapse in judgment, an' so is Lawrence. But if either of us catch you's pullin' a stunt like dat again, den you's out a da lodgin' house. Got it?" Skittery made an obscene gesture with his hand which Chance decided meant he understood.

Spot listened in from where he was sitting, occasionally nodding to the boy sitting next to him so no one would realize he was eavesdropping. He hadn't learned much, though, and it only succeeded in piquing his curiosity even more.

"Spot!"

Annoyed Spot turned back to the guy sitting next to him. He racked his name for his name, knowing it was something to do with a dog. Hound. That was it. The kid was around Spot's age, and had come in about six months ago. Actually, now that Spot thought about it, he'd gotten his nickname because he was so good at sniffing things out. Which meant he'd be the perfect person to help Spot figure out what was going on with Skittery that had Chance and Lawrence in such an uproar.

"Sorry, Hound. Hey, wanna sell da afternoon edition wid me? I's got soin' ta talk ta you's 'bout," Spot gave him his most innocent grin, trying to appear friendly.

"Sure," Hound shrugged, shoving back his seat and following Spot towards the distribution center.

"So, Hound. You's pretty good at finding out what's goin' on, ain'tcha?" Spot asked, pasting a sincere look on his face.

"Yeah, usually," Hound agreed, nodding. "Why?"

"Well, I was wonderin' if you's would wanna help me figure out what's goin' on wid me cousin an' Chance." Hound looked at him suspiciously, but Spot kept the sweet and innocent look pasted on his face. "I's jus' real concerned 'bout 'im. Ya know, he's always looked out for me, an' I want ta make sure noin's wrong. Dat's all." Spot ducked his head, pretending to be shy, and watched Hounds reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Well," Hound thought for a minute, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess I could dig around a little, see what if I can find anythin' out for you's."

"Really? You'd do dat for me? T'anks, Hound. I sure appreciate it!" Spot wanted to throw up at his own act, but he could tell Hound was buying it, and that was all that mattered.

Hound started to reply, but Spot was already halfway down the street, cornering a rich looking lady, and giving her a sob story which caused her to buy a paper. Hound thought there was a good chance he'd just been played, but he'd already told Spot he would do it, and he wasn't a liar.

Spot sold all his papers for the second time that day, and then wandered over to his favorite place. A small tree down by the river, which was hidden from everyone and everything. No one ever came down here except for him and Skittery. It had been their safe haven of sorts, where they escaped to when the house got to be too bad. Spot still made his way down there a couple times a week, as did Skittery. This is why Spot was less than surprised to see his cousin sitting in front of the tree, with his back leaned against it, his legs propped in front of him and his cap pulled down over his eyes.

Spot joined his cousin, sitting down in front of the tree. "So what's got Chance so angry wid you's?" He asked. Maybe he could get the real story and let Hound off the hook.

"Who knows?" Skittery shrugged. He hated lying to Spot, but he wasn't about to tell a ten year old he'd spent the night in an opium den.

"Jus' so you's know, I don't believe ya at all, but I ain't goin' ta push da issue right now," Spot informed him. The two boys lapsed back into silence. The only sounds came from the gurgling of the water, the birds chirping from the tree, and the steady click of Skittery's fingernails against each other.

Spot stared out at the water, playing with a piece of grass, trying to remember how to make it whistle. Skittery watched him for awhile before he reached over and plucked a blade of grass of his own.

"Like dis," he told Spot. He held the grass pulled tight between his thumbs, and blew, causing a shrill whistle to pierce the silence, and the birds in the tree above to scatter. Spot copied his cousin, and got a small noise to escape. He threw the blade of grass back on the ground, suddenly bored with the game.

Resting his head on his knees, he stared out at the water again.

"You ever t'ink 'bout jus' getting' da hell outta 'ere?" Skittery asked.

"Outta Brooklyn?"

"Brooklyn. New York. Jus' go out in da country somewhere. Where evrythin' is peaceful jus' like it is down 'ere." Skittery replied wistfully.

"I'm ten. So, no. Not really," Spot shrugged. "Besides, I like Brooklyn. I never wanna leave it."

Skittery stared at him, but bit back a bitter retort, instead standing up. "I'll see ya later."

Spot watched him walk away, and then laid down in the grass, staring up into the sky instead of the water. He decided he liked the sky better. It was a pure blue, as opposed to the dirty, ruined blue of the water. He watched the clouds roll by, and watched the sun lower itself on the horizon. He knew it was getting late, and he should head back to the lodging house, but it was so peaceful out there that the thought of the noisy lodging house was unappealing. He had a bit before anyone would start to worry, anyway, so he let his eyes droop closed, and drifted off into a nap.

He woke up a few minutes later because he could feel someone staring at him. He opened his eyes, and turned his head. A girl around his age was sitting a few feet away, and watching him. "What?" He asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice.

The girl smiled at him, her brown eyes twinkling. She brushed her long brown hair out of her eyes and scooted closer. Holding out a hand she smiled at him. "Hi. I'm Nicole."

Spot glared at her hand and back up at her. "Yeah, dat's nice. Whaddya want?"

"What's your name?" She ignored his question.

Spot looked at her, and shook his head, as he pulled his self up into a sitting position. "Spot," He relented.

"That's not a name," She laughed. It was a good natured type of laugh though, and not a mean one, so Spot didn't take offense. He noticed she didn't have a New York accent, though.

"Where ya from?" He asked.

"My family moved here from California a few weeks ago. I haven't met too many kids my age yet. So when I saw you, I jumped at the chance to meet you. Sorry if it was rude."

Spot shrugged. "Listen, I's gotta get goin'," He stood up, brushing himself off, and reached down to grab his hat.

Nicole's face fell, and Spot felt like a jerk. "You live 'round 'ere?" He questioned.

She nodded, "Yes, just a few blocks that way."

"Meet me here tomorrow evenin'," He offered, almost hoping she'd say no. He wasn't sure what possessed him to offer anyway. He didn't exactly want to go making new friends.

"Okay," Nicole smiled up at him, reminding Spot why he'd offered. He mumbled a goodbye and turned to head back before Chance sent out a search party.