Here's the first chapter, first person and all that jazz. :D

13 years later

In our apartment, above the theater, there's a window. I call it my window. It has a nice cushioned window seat where I can sit and look down at the street. It isn't a very busy street nor very wide. A lot of people pass by though. I like to watch them and think about each individual. Meggie calls it people-watching, and I guess it is. I, however, call it science, or at least a part of science. Did you ever learn in school or read in a book about experimenting? There's always a process and that process begins with a hypothesis. I like to form hypothesis's and then, if I see them again, theories about the people I watch. Of course, none of my thinking is ever accurate, just pure guessing.

I've got theories on a couple people though. Like the Italian man who owns a hot dog cart. He's at the same street curb every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. He's there when I look out in the morning, but gone by three o'clock in the afternoon. My theory: this is his part-time day job and he'll probably move to a busier street soon where more people are looking to buy hot dogs. There's also the tall lady who, every day around two in the afternoon, is seen shepherding her three children through the street. My theory: she's picking her children up from school and this is part of her shortcut home. And then there's the newsboy who's here everyday from early in the morning to about noon. He always hawks louder than the Italian man or any other vendor, and drives me insane while I'm trying to read. I get distracted when I try and listen to what he's actually saying and then usually fall laughing off my window seat. My theory: this is his place to sell and he'll probably relocate soon to a busier street where more people are looking to buy outlandish stories.

All this thinking eventually leads to me wondering why every person out there has their position that they do in this world. I start imagining the tall woman as a princess in India and the Italian man as one of the men pushing a gondola along the rivers of Venice while singing richly in a deep voice to a pair of lovers. I play with the young newsboy's future and imagine him sailing around the world with a group of pirates like Jim Hawkins or becoming rich and wondering what he'd do with all that money. I start to think about me, and who I'd want to be. But then I realize I'm perfectly happy with who I am. I love living with Meggie and Henry. I love being in the theater business and helping Meggie out, or going to Henry's bookstore the Dragon's Shelf and pricing books. And it's not like I'm confined. Meggie has so many plays to read and watch and Henry has an incredible amount of books in his store that I'm free to flip through anytime. I disappear into other worlds through these things.

But, reality still exists and it always calls me back. My family is still poor, Meggie's theater is struggling, and Henry's getting sick. I have to deal with puberty, schooling myself, and keeping everyone sane.

"Char-o-lette!" called a voice from down the staircase. Meggie always seems to pronounce my name more like 'Chocolate' then 'Charlotte'. So, reality calls. I close my book, leave my windowsill, and come to the top of the staircase. Meggie's standing at the bottom, one hand on her hip and the other holding a battered costume.

I couldn't help but smile. "What happened to Cowboy Hank's costume?"

"The two got in a brawl! Can you believe it?!" Meggie exclaimed, referring to Cowboy Hank and more than likely Cowboy Bill. They didn't have the best offstage relationship...

"Everyone's still alive, right?" I asked, coming down the stairs and taking the shirt. It was torn straight down the middle. I shook my head.

"Yeah, but Cowboy Hank will be played by the understudy now. Mike got pretty banged up. Do you mind fixing it?"

"I'll just make another. I still have some of the fabric left," I said. Meggie hugged me.

"You're the best girl ever, you know that?" she said.

"Shoah I do," I said with a laugh and used a bit of New York accent just for fun, "And I know, I'll try and hurry. Big opening tonight!"

"Oh, yes!" Meggie squealed, "The major's son and his girl promised they come! It'll be a night of rough ridin', cowboy talk, showdowns, and western romance! OH- remember, Charlotte, the horses are coming around four. You said you'll handle 'em, right?"

"Of course! Jones and I are gonna take care of them, don't worry," I said. I was excited for the horses. It was the first time Meggie would have real animals on her stage. Though they were more or less props that would stand tied to a post half the time, it would add a nice flavor to the play.

And Jones, by the way, is my only good friend whose around my age. He and I do a lot together. I only met him last year when he came to the theater looking for a job, but already we are like brother and sister. He is only a year and a half older than me, but he could pass for sixteen. He's really tall, six feet he claims, and has the blondest crop of hair that I've ever seen on a boy. He's really good at acting too. The last play he was in, his character made me cry. And I wasn't the only one in the audience with wet eyes.

I scurried off to quickly piece together another cowboy shirt for Hank, while Meggie scurried to do, well...everything else. I smiled to myself. Meggie was the ultimate director. Everyone loved her and listened to her with respect. Her plays, because of this, were always well made and entertaining, but ill-attended because of the lack of effort Meggie put into advertising. She was so busy with everything else that this was the least of her worries, and thus the least cared for. But I knew the play premiering tonight was expected to draw in big crowds and hopefully revive the theater's reputation.

xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox

The next couple hours were rushed, stressful, and all together crazy. All the cast members were nervous and couldn't seem to contain themselves. I liked watching them because each of them had their own way of releasing their energy and trying to calm themselves. Meggie was near to pulling her hair out. It was five, an hour till the show started, and the horses still hadn't arrived. Jones and I were waiting outside in the theater's alley. My hands were behind my back as I rocked on my heels, occasionally peaking around the corner whenever I heard horse shoes clattering on the street's surface.

I turned around after seeing it was only an police officer and was greeted with a puff of smoke.

"Geeze, Jones. Do you always have to smoke?" I said, offended. I waved the sweet smoke of his cigar out of my face.

"You wouldn't be so disgusted with me if you knew how many other boys my age and younger who smoke," he retorted and stuck the cigar back in his mouth.

I frowned. I didn't care about the other boys, and plus I didn't really know any other boys.

"Shouldn't you be getting in costume?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm in the first scene," he said, the look on his face saying that he didn't have a care in the world.

I groaned, yanked the cigar out of his mouth and pushed him towards the door.

"Go, go! Meggie's gonna have a cow if you're not there!"

"A'right, a'right! I'm goin'" he said and grabbed his cigar before I shut the door on him.

When I turned back around to keep vigil at the alley's entrance, I nearly bumped into another boy. This one I didn't know. But remember, I didn't know any other boys besides Jones. The boy, who looked about Jones' age, blushed and apologized quickly.

"It's alright, really," I said with a smile, "Can I help you?"

I didn't know if that was the proper question to ask, this being an alley. But it was the theater's alley and I worked at the theater.

"Uh yeah, actually," he said and fumbled for something in his pocket. He withdrew a small poster of our play and asked, "Has it started yet?"

I took the poster from his hands and glanced down at the information at the bottom. I glanced up at him. He was shorter than Jones, but still taller than me. And he had the New York accent. He was dirty and dressed sloppily, so I guessed he was a street urchin. No mother I knew would let their child look like that and let him out of the house.

"It starts at six; in about forty-five minutes," I said, and then gave him back his poster. Just then, a carriage rounded the corner and stormed into the narrow alley. I saw it before he did, and pushed both of us out of the way before it ran us over. A man leaped out of the driver's bench. He walked quickly towards me and gave me a few instructions. Then he was gone, practically running out of the place. Probably had a date or something.

I went forward to unhitch the horses, the boy following.

"Are these yours?" he asked, staring at them.

"Nope," I said while beginning to mess with all the leather straps, "they're for the show."

He gave a low whistle. "Anything I can help with?"

I straightened and looked over at him. "Well sure, if you really wanna. I need that ramp over there attached to the door so the horses can get in."

He nodded and got right to work. I kept an eye on him while I unstrapped all the leather buckles and whatnot. I wasn't too sure what Meggie would think about a strange, unknown boy helping, so I asked what his name was.

"Francis Sullivan," he said while dragging the huge wooden ramp over to the door.

I couldn't help but laugh. "That's a real fancy name."

He glanced at me with a proud smile. "It sure is. You can just call me Francis."

"Sure," I said, "Ya know, I always considered Sullivan an evil name."

"Evil?"

"Yeah. It sounds like the name of a mad scientist or a rich villain."

"I wouldn't mind being either," he said with a wicked smile. I grinned back at him.

"What's your name?" he asked. The ramp was now in place and the horses free. I grabbed one by the bridle and he grabbed the other horse.

As I led in the big brown horse horse, I answered, "Charlotte Faye O'Neil."

"Hey, that's pretty fancy too!" he cried from behind me. The brown horse flicked his ears in the direction.

"Ya know what I think of when I hear Charlotte?" he continued.

"What?" I asked. I was leading them through the back hall now. Meggie said I was suppose to take them to the storage room. Supposedly it had been cleared and plastic laid now with hay, our sad equivalent of a stable.

"Chocolate," he said.

I groaned. "That's what everyone says!"

I sort of liked this boy. He was funny, opposite Jones who was always sarcastic and had a sullen attitude. Plus, I enjoyed meeting new people, especially kids around my age.

We tugged the horses down the hall a little more before we came to the storage room. I opened the door and poked my head in. Hay was scattered everywhere and the one window was wide open. Next to the door were the shovels. It would do.

"Here we are!" I said to Francis, leading my horse in and then turning him around.

Francis paused when he stepped him. His horse, a smaller black one, jerked his head when he saw the feed in the corner. The rope flew out of Francis's hands and the horse was free. I quickly ran to unattach the lead rope before the horse tripped over himself and then let my horse go.

I came to Francis's side and we watched the horses eat.

"This isn't much of a stable," he said.

I shrugged. "It's a stall."

"So, shouldn't they have saddles or something?"

"Yeah," I said with a sigh, now remembering that Meggie wanted them saddled. Too bad I didn't know how. "Wanna help?" Maybe he could somehow figure it out.

"Could I?" he asked, his eyes blazing with excitement.

"Well you better 'cause I have no idea how," I said with a sad smile and then went to open to the door. He beat me to it though and held it open for me with a big old grin on his red face.

"Well, gee, thanks!" I gave him a clap on the back. "Ya know, I've always liked gentlemen," I added. He blushed again. I've never known a fellow who blushed as much as Francis Sullivan did.

I proceeded in leading him down the hall further, into the theater and up the stairs where most of our big props were located. Actors, musicians, and other crew passed us along the way. Most of them would either say hey, tell me they needed something, or ask who was with me. I would give them a quick reply or none at all as they flew by. Francis stared at those in full costume as if they had popped right out of an old western dime paperback. He was kind of cute with those big brown eyes trying to take in everything at once. And I just knew that if no one else, Francis would love the play. He seemed to have a bit of cowboy in himself just by the way he handled the leather saddles and placed them gently on the horses' backs.

"I don't think that's right," I said, bending down next to him as his hands weaved the girth into one huge knot. He looked at me, our faces inches a part. I burst out laughing at the flat expression on his face, any possible romantic scene completely destroyed.

He smiled a little. "Well, it will stay on at least. Look." He straightened and grabbed the saddle horn and then tried to jerk it around. It held firmly in its place.

"Well done!" I said while applauding. He crossed his arms with a smug smile. "Now do that with the other saddle," I added. He rolled his eyes but went over to pick it up.

The door opened suddenly and Meggie poked her head in. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped as she saw Francis's bent over figure. She looked at me with a frown.

"Meggie!" I cried, "This is Francis, a new friend of mine!

He spun around with the saddle on his arms, an awkward smile plastered on his face. "Hi!" he said quickly and then slid the saddle on the black horse's back. Meggie narrowed her eyes. Great. She was always suspicious of boys who dared to hang around me, besides Jones of course.

"Francis who?" she asked. Francis looked back at her.

"Francis Sullivan." I loved the way he totally didn't seem threatened. I wondered if he was used to be treated like this. Was he a street urchin who pick pocketed or stole from vendors?

Meggie's face lit up. "Sullivan? As in Lou Sullivan's son?"

Francis stared at her. "Well...yeah."

She laughed and raced towards him, giving him a big hug as he stood there stiffly. I watched in confusion.

"How do you know my father?" Francis asked, voicing my thoughts.

She took a step back, holding him out at arm's length and looking him up and down.

"Geeze, I haven't seen you since you were crawling around in diapers!" she exclaimed. Francis blushed again. "Oh, your father and I dated years and years ago. Heck, I was probably sixteen," she laughed, "In fact, you were the reason we broke up! He was cheating on me and one night he told me he had to get married to a gal he had made pregnant."

Francis's face was getting redder. "Sorry," he muttered. He probably didn't know what else to say.

She waved a hand. "No need to apologize. It wasn't your fault. We weren't in love or anything," she paused, thinking. Then she popped back to reality. "Oh hey, my show's about to start. Fifteen minutes or something crazy like that. You gonna stay and watch Francis?"

"I'm planning on it."

"Good, good," she was halfway out the door now, "Don't pay for the ticket. You've helped me out a lot. I don't know how we would of saddled those horses without you."

I looked over to Francis after she left. He just stood there, staring, not quite sure what to make of my mother, more than likely.

I silently padded over and said quietly, "I hope she just didn't shake your world into a billion pieces, cause you to lose all sense of identity, or help develop a hatred for your father."

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I knew about my mother and all that crap. I'm fine."

"Well good," I said with smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Now come on. The show's about to start and the first scene's the best. You can't miss it."

xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox

In the next couple hours, a lot happened. I'll try and relate it best I can, but the memories are fuzzy. Francis and I sat together in my special balcony. It gets the best view and Meggie gave me full rights to it. Francis, as I expected, was totally wrapped up in the play. He was on the edge of his seat and didn't even notice me glancing over at him now and then to see what his reaction to a certain part would be. I noticed that he had a fine profile. Because I had already seen the play akajillion times, I was able to observe the following: Francis probably had not washed his hair in about a week, I could see exactly three pimples from my angle, and the dirt that lay under his nails, the callouses on his fingers, and splinters on his palm suggested that he probably worked at some place like the docks. Maybe he unloaded the boxes. He did look pretty strong. Maybe he was older than fifteen... I jerked my head towards the stage as he caught me looking at him. Now it was my turn to blush. I turned my head towards the stage and tried to focus on the play. The understudy was screwing up his lines. I quickly looked over the the major's son and his date. I groaned inwardly. They were talking, not even paying attention to the play! Poor Meggie...

I felt Francis tap my shoulder. I looked back at him and was surprised by the horrified expression on his face. He was pointing to the stage. I looked and saw that the saddle on one of the horses was slipping slowly.

"Sorry," he whispered. I closed my eyes as the hunk of leather made a huge noise as it hit the stage floor. The whole cast broke the flow of practiced conversation as they glanced back at the horse, who was, most unfortunately, spooking and trying to free himself from the post. The animal ended up dragging the prop off the stage as the cast tried to improvise and the backstage crew appeared and only added to the mess. I plopped back against my chair and watched the whole scene helplessly. Francis tried to get up, but I stopped him.

"It's alright. They'll take care of it," I said in sort of a monotone. He looked guilty and kept wringing his hands, as if he wanted to be down there helping inside of up in this balcony box. The audience was laughing as the crew tried to get the situation under control. Oh, it was a mess. Meggie was right there in the middle of it too, trying to apologize and calm down the audience. I could tell from the strained expression on her face that she was doing her best not to cry or have some sort of emotional break down.

"Well, come on," I sighed and stood. He quickly leaped to his feet, eager to do anything. "They'll need the horses back in the stall."

As we walked down the balcony stairs, Francis groaned.

"I feel awful! This is all my fault!" he cried. It kind of was, so I didn't say anything. I wasn't mad at him or anything. I just felt really bad for Meggie. She probably wouldn't get those rave reviews she had been hoping for, and if this effected the attendance of the rest of the shows, she'd never get enough money to pay off the theater. It's like this: When Meggie opened the theater's doors, the theater was fully funded. But the investor ended up not being able to pay at least half of what he had promised, so Meggie was left with a huge wad of debt. Her and Henry had been paying it off monthly, which automatically had taken me out of school, but lately the theater's owners have been more demanding. Meggie's afraid that they'll set a date soon and threaten to evict us. And I say 'us' because my family lives right above the theater. Thus the immense pressure on tonight's show. And now the immense disappointment...

Francis and I were so preoccupied with calming the horses and putting them back in the stall that we missed the rest of the play. By the time we were done, people were exiting the theater, Francis and I with them. We needed some fresh air after being in the stall/room so long. We both leaned against the wall and let out a big breath. The summer night air was cool and relaxed my nerves.

"Whadda whirlwind," he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head on the wall. I nodded in agreement, but I should of known it wasn't over yet. Yep, in the next few moments, I got to know Francis Sullivan a whole lot better.

As the people wandered out, they lingered on the sidewalk awhile, laughing and chatting with their friends. Eventually I saw the mayor's son waltz out, cute blondie on his arm. He was in a black suit and she donned a gorgeous red dress. The entourage that trailed after them was dressed equally well. I knew they were rich, and I guess I wasn't the only one who noticed the mayor's wallet jutting out of his pocket like Pinocchio's nose, because when I turned to make comment to Francis, he wasn't there.

I searched the loitering crowd and found him stealthily maneuvering towards the mayor's son. For some reason, or wait, it was obvious, I knew what he was doing. Maybe I had thought too high of Francis... I quickly pushed my way after him, determined to stop him, especially since I saw a mounted police officer conveniently nearby. But I was too late. When I reached Francis, he was already pulling the wallet.

Out of my terrible and rash instinct, I yelled, "Stop, Francis!"

Big mistake. Instantly the mayor's son spun around, catching Francis red-handed. Francis tried to get away, but the mayor's son grabbed him by the arm, yelled at him, and tried to get his wallet back. Francis only made an effort to jerk his arm free as more and more people turned and gasped. The mayor's son raised the cane he had been holding in the air. Horrified that the man might beat Francis, I followed my instinct once again and leaped onto his back. He staggered and I wrenched the cane out of his hands. Then the sound of a shrill whistle caused everyone to freeze. The three of us slowly turned our heads to see two mounted police officers. They were staring at us hard. What a sight we must of made. I was nearly straggling the mayor's son and had the cane raised in one hand, probably looking like I was about to beat him, and Francis had been in the midst of tugging away, wallet in hand. The mayor's son just looked like the poor victim. Francis and I quickly disassembled, me hopping down and dropping the cane while Francis thrust the wallet back into the man's hands. As the policemen dismounted, handcuffs dangling, Francis turned on his heel and made a run for it. It took me a second a register what was happening, the police coming towards me and Francis running. I panicked and did something totally out of character: I ran after Francis. My feet pounded the pavement as I tried to keep Francis in sight. I couldn't hear the policemen behind me, but I kept running away. I was thinking that I couldn't let Francis get out of it and me banished forever to some jail. Eventually I was running besides him. He looked over at me, scrunched up his nose, and then took a sudden turn into an alley. Hah, he was surprised I followed him. I trailed after him and turned into pure blackness. But before I got very far, someone grabbed the back of my shirt and I was jerked back against the wall. I heard Francis's heavy breathing as he pressed me against the wall. I started to protest, but he covered my mouth. We waited a few seconds in silence and soon heard the policemen yelling at each other to go different ways. I shut my eyes and after a few seconds felt a gust of air whip against my face as the policeman ran past us. Francis waited a little longer till he was sure the policeman was far away enough not to hear us, then he released me. I gasped for air, wiped my mouth, and stepped away from the wall.

"What was-" I started to say, but Francis grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction we had came, opposite the direction the policeman had went.

"Don't talk," he hissed, walking in the shadows of the street. I frowned but let him lead me. I was a criminal now, hunted. If anyone saw me, they'd probably want to turn me in a big bounty. I started to think of all the book characters I had read about in my situation and what they did, which was more often than not: trust the person helping them escape. But I didn't want to trust Francis. He was a thief. Lifting boxes, sure, but not at the harbor. Or maybe he did some honest work and then some not-so-honest work. I didn't know. How can you trust someone you don't know anything about?

He led me down a few more alleys and after a couple minutes, I said, "Okay, I'm sure we're far away from them now. Shouldn't we go back?"

Francis looked back at me with a smile. It was a sick, sweet smile, one that he would give to a little kid. I jerked my hand away from him, repulsed.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place."

I swallowed at that. He didn't have his own place, did he? He wasn't that much older than me. I stopped walking and thought for a moment. I didn't want to go to 'his place'. I wanted to go back to Meggie and Henry. They'd defend me and get me out of everything. Oh crap. Meggie. What would she think when she heard? I turned around and started to run back. Francis had noticed then and caught up with me quickly. He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. He was a lot stronger than me.

"Where ya going?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Home," was my quick retort. I tried to pull away.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, "You can't go back! They'll throw you in the refuge without blinking!"

"I don't care!" I cried and jerked away. I started running again. Francis was determined. He somehow got in front of me and wouldn't let me pass. It was that stupid awkward game when two people were trying to go in opposite directions, but kept getting in front of each other, except he was doing it purposely. I got frustrated and finally tried to push him out of my way. He didn't budge.

"You're not going back," he said in a tone that sounded like a judge's hammer.

I crossed my arms and decided to try reasoning with him. "Why not? My parents will get me out of the Refuge."

He laughed in my face. "What parents?"

I was shocked at this. Did he know my story? How? I fidgeted, but didn't say anything in case he wasn't referring to what I thought he was.

"The Refuge people don't give a crap about orphans, or kids with parents. The law's da law. You'll get at least two week's confinement. And believe me, you don't even wanna stay two seconds in that junkyard," he said.

I cringed, but still didn't say anything. I believed him. I really didn't want to go to the refuge, or be confronted by Meggie.

Francis rolled his eyes, having probably read my face. "And I know, you didn't do anything. But that's not what it looked like. Without a good witness, you're shot."

I looked down. My face was like an open book, Henry always said. I considered it one of my weaknesses and one I tried the hardest to work on.

I tried again. "But my parents, Francis!"

He shrugged. "Gotta fly the nest sometime."

I laughed. I could tell he didn't understand.

"You just don't 'fly the nest' anytime you want," I said, "There's this string called love attaching you and your family. And I'm only thirteen."

"Look," he reasoned, "it'll only be a couple days. The police will forget about it by then and you'll be free to go back. They don't know your name or anything and no big crime was committed."

I sighed. He did have a point. So, did I want to go with Francis? I chewed on my lower lip. In the streets of New York? I looked around me, at the shadows and the trash. The very idea of being an escapee with Francis was scary, but at the same time, sounded deliciously like an adventure. And I had only read about those in books.

Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts, thanks!!!