three: eve.

I don't know how I convinced Dutchy to get to sleep at all, never mind on the opposite side of the room from Specs. I wanted him to be well rested, and that just wasn't going to happen if he was anywhere near his ailing Love. More and more lodgers trickled in as night fell, and each made a clear path around Specs' bunk. Kloppman had abandoned the building entirely, but luckily had left the keys behind. He was easily spooked and apparently didn't dare spend even a night in the vicinity of Specs or the Fever. I had never known how Kloppman had felt about things like this, or even if he had known about them, but I suppose that I had never asked.

I sat on my own bunk chewing absentmindedly on my cigar. Pie-eater was now lying on Dutchy's bed with his arms under his head, faithfully staying near the ailing boy as he had promised hours before. Sometimes I felt that Pie was like a dog, he would just do whatever you asked and not think of stopping or changing until you gave the okay. Of course, I knew this wasn't true; there was too much intelligence behind his eyes and too much mystery surrounding his actions in general. Clearly, something had happened – it's just that, like with Kloppman, no one had ever thought – dared – to ask what.

From the corner of my eye I saw Snoddy take a seat on the bunk across from me and I grunted in acknowledgement. He hesitated noticeably, then cleared his throat, so I cut short my musings on Pie-eater and took the cigar out of my mouth.

"Yeah?" I asked, nonplussed. I figured my day couldn't get any worse. He cleared his throat again, clearly agitated, then scanned the bunkroom and grabbed something from under his shirt and offered it to me. I glanced at his hand, then raised an eyebrow and shook my head.

"Snoddy," I said, "what the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

"Just take it," he grumbled, obviously annoyed that I didn't recognize the significance of whatever he was holding. I shrugged and accepted the pouch, which was full of buttons, and shoved it under my pillow.

"Trust me," he said, and was about to leave when Bumlets came and sat beside him, effectively blocking his exit. Kid Blink dragged a chair over and we all looked at each other for a few beats.

"I dunno what else there is to say, boys," I said wearily.

"Do you have everything ready? Are you leaving first thing in the morning? Will Dutchy be ready?" Bumlets asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes, mom," I said, but no one even smiled.

There was another silence.

"Sofia's?" Kid Blink asked finally.

"I thought so," I said. Everyone else nodded in agreement, but Blink wasn't done.

"What do you have?"

"Uh, some money –"

"Coins?"

"Of course… and cigars." I shrugged. "I guess I figure she'll go for the story."

"Yeah," Blink agreed with a shrug, then tossed me something. It was a small packet wrapped in brown paper, and its contents rattled around when I caught it. It fit easily into the palm of my hand.

"What is it with you guys?" I said with a shake of my head, motioning to the packet and raising an eyebrow again. Bumlets and Blink looked confused, but Snoddy shot me a look that was clearly said, "cease and desist." "Um, the sad looks," I said lamely, making a mental note to question Snoddy later. "It's going to be fine. We'll be in, we'll be out."

"Whatever," said Blink, suddenly distracted. "Those are seeds, by the way," he added. "For Sofia, if you need them."

"Okay," I said, and tucked it under my pillow. Blink must have nicked them that afternoon. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry I don't have a present for you," Bumlets said with a grin. "Maybe next year."

"How about some advice instead?" Skittery had appeared and rested his arm against the bunk above mine. He looked at me pointedly. "Don't go."

As if I needed someone to talk me out of it. "Skitts… come on. We already talked about this."

"I'm serious," he said, even as the other three glared daggers. "Don't do it. It's not worth it. It's not… you going with him… it's not even in the spirit of that place."

I looked at the floor, then at Dutchy, who tossed and turned in a his sleep.

"It's in the spirit of this place," I said firmly, still watching him. "And this I believe in."

Skittery laughed out loud. "Ok, hero. It really has been awhile, hasn't it? Shit, I thought you were lying before when you said a whole year."

I shrugged. "Maybe even more. I like it here," I said quietly. "I don't need to go there anymore. I like it here."

The bunkroom was quieting down as the other boys decided they were ready to turn in. It was hard to judge the time without Kloppman yelling up at us. We all exchanged glances. Skittery looked at me again and shrugged, giving up his case, but I noticed that he absently touched the scab below his left ear as he moved away. Bumlets and Snoddy stood and Blink clambered up onto his own bunk. Snoddy refused to meet my eyes but muttered something encouraging, then disappeared to the other side of the room. Bumlets grasped my arm and took a step closer.

"Buena suerte," he said warmly. "Good luck, kid. I have faith." He squeezed once, and then he too was gone. I collapsed back on my bunk and took out my cigar. I suddenly felt incredibly empty and totally alone, and for once the cigar gave me no comfort. I let it rest on my chest and stared blankly up at the bottom of Blink's bunk. My eyes ran over the words and drawings carved into the slats without really seeing them. I had memorized the symbols long ago. My own mark was left right above my head; a neat column of the outlines of the four suites in playing cards. I ran my thumb over the spade and swallowed a lump in my throat.Someone killed the lights, and a few seconds later Blink's head appeared over the edge. What little moonlight there was gave his hair a pale glow.

"Race," he said. "Are you scared?" It wasn't a typical Blink question and I almost smiled despite myself.

"No," I said. "No, I'm not scared, I'm…" I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. "I'm just tired, Blink," I whispered. "I'm so tired. I thought I was done. I thought… I thought I could stay."

Blink's sigh echoed the weight of my own.

"I don't think it works that way, Race," he said, and rolled back to his pillow.

Gradually the exhaustion in my bones caught up with my restless mind and I fell into an uncomfortable sleep, waking often from dark and scattered, nonsensical dreams.

The sun had just barely risen when Dutchy appeared at my head, all dressed and ready to go. His glasses were a little askew and his eyes were still rimmed red, but he had resolve in his stance and determination set in the hard line of his mouth. I crawled stiffly out of bed and hoped he did not see the resignation in my movements.

Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed the pouch of buttons and the seed packet from under my pillow and stashed them away on my person.

"Come on," I said gruffly, and he turned and left the bunkroom without even a glance back. I admired that. I myself stopped at the doorway and let my gaze wander over my sleeping friends, envying them in their security and in the bright sun that would shine on their backs that day. I wondered if I would miss the stifling heat of a New York July. I shivered, and turned to the stairs. I had promised myself I wouldn't think of… that… of there, until I had to. Dutchy waited by the bottom of the stairs expectantly. I closed the door and went to meet him, doing my best to swallow my doubts.

We left the building without exchanging a word and emerged into a New York already alive with smoke and noise. I automatically checked to make sure I had my cigars and coins, and we were on our way. We walked abreast, my eyes on the cobblestones beneath our feet and his surveying the passing scenery as if seeing it for the first time. I wanted desperately to break the silence but had no idea how to go about it, so the sun continued to rise and we continued to stride in silence. We were headed south; south to Battery Park and the edge of the world.