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And thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story so far. Your readership is very much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any of its characters, but I do own all others.

Running, running, running. Another day, another crisis. I had never run so much before in my life as I did that night, and my legs were going to pay for it. Sparing not even a second to catch my breath, I ran straight from Sarah's house to Lola's. Thankfully, the cool night made the exercise easier.

There was, however, a strange mixed feeling in my stomach – relief, knowing all the bulls were at Irving Hall, rounding up the newsies, and guilt, as I assumed I was one of only a few that managed to escape.

No time to think about that now, it was time to run… my specialty.

There were no lights on at Lola's house when I arrived, and while it was to be expected, I cursed my luck anyway. It was going to be quite the trick getting to Lola without waking the entire apartment on the way. I looked around and around and around. If nothing else, being around the newsies taught me that an escape was only a glance away.

The fire escape. Well, a bit more climbing certainly wasn't going to make this night any worse, so I did it. There were a few close calls when the stairs moaned like a whale and I thought perhaps I would finish the lovely evening by plummeting to the ground, but thankfully for my father, he didn't have to plan my funeral just then.

I reached Lola's room on the top floor of the building after huffing and puffing my way up there. Peering around to be sure I was at the right floor, I tapped quietly on the window I hoped was next to Lola's bed. I knew Lola slept with her youngest sister Mercedes, but I hoped against hope that the appropriate person would answer my call. Mercedes was always kind of a loud mouth, and neither Lola nor I would have appreciated her butting her nose into our business anyway.

After waiting a few seconds I got no answer, so I tapped again, a touch rougher this time. Something (someone rather) moved to the right of the window, slow as a tangled up mummy. It came closer and closer until I could recognize Lola's sloppy night hair.

She looked straight at me for a few seconds, and I could tell she was deciding whether or not to open the window. Damn her.

In the end, she humored me and opened up.

"Izzie, what are you doing?"

No concern in her voice, only irritation. No invite inside either, I might add.

"Look, Lola, I know you're mad at me, but I'm not here about me. It's Carlos."

"What about Carlos?"

"He was arrested."

Her eyes widened, but only for a split second before they narrowed to the size of deadly almonds.

"You know, Izzie, this is pretty low, even for you."

I could feel my head jerk back. "What?"

"Coming around here in the middle of the night just to scare me into being friends with you again? You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel for your tactics."

"Lola, I'm not –"

"Would you like me to go get my mother so you can frighten her too?"

"No, I – "

"You've really crossed the line, Izzie."

She started to shut the window, but I grabbed at it and flung it open again, much to her surprise.

"I'm not joking, Lola – Carlos is in jail. I saw him get arrested!"

She sized me up pretty good then.

"Good."

Another jerk of my head. "What do you mean, 'good'? He's your brother, you have to help him!"

Her look of condescension turned into one of casual disdain. "He deserves what he got. In fact, I'm disappointed they didn't arrest you too. Helping the newsies and their strike… You can't be surprised the police showed up. They're criminals after all."

"They're not criminals!"

"Come on, Izzie," she said in a dangerously low voice, folding her arms, "they're street rats. Did you think the police were going to let them throw a rally and be done with it?"

"They're no more street rats than you and I, Lola, and you know it."

Her eyes flashed for a second, be she maintained her eerie calm. "It's the truth, Izzie, even if you don't want to hear it. You're mixing yourself up with a bad crowd. I don't know what has gotten into you, but I don't like it. Now go home."

"What about Carlos?" I was beginning to feel as deflated as a bruised ego.

"Just stay out of our business, Izzie."

And she closed the window.

I sat there for a while, numb and finally cold after my long run. I couldn't help but wonder if my best friend was right; what had gotten into me? Striking up a friendship with nearby newsies, getting myself involved in dangerous plots, throwing punches around as if they were a pat on the back (a bit exaggerated, but you know what I mean).

I was different, that was clear enough. But the question was… was it a bad thing?

I wasn't going to puzzle it out sitting outside Lola's room, so I climbed down and walked home.

Did I go to the courthouse the next day and pay for Carlos's release, as his sister was seemingly content to let him rot in jail?

No, I certainly did not.

Yeah, I get it. I know I should have gone to get him, seeing as he was still a better friend to me than Lola, and that with punching him in the stomach. But I was silly enough to think if I didn't, if I let him sit in jail for a few more hours, at least, it would be a great way to spite Lola. And I what I wanted most was to spite her.

(Clearly, my bitterness had set in overnight.)

I figured the best way to distract myself (and spite Lola at the same time) would be to go to the Lodging House to find Jack and David. After David pushed me off with his sister and little brother in tow, I had neither seen hide nor hair of either of them. It was only a question of chances whether they had escaped or suffered a similar fate to Carlos's, and unfortunately the probability wasn't in their favor.

I arrived at the Lodging House after a brisk walk and knew immediately that something was wrong. There were no clear physical clues as to what it was, but that in itself was a clue for me. This wasn't going to be a pleasant distraction I had hoped.

It was strange walking into the Lodging House, alone this time, to see nary a soul. My friend, the old man behind the counter, wasn't even there to nod me a vague hello. For a place that had been so bustling, its silence was as ghostly as you could imagine. Feeling it perhaps rude to go traipsing around the building yet desperate to know everyone's fate, I decided to go to the next best place – Tibby's.

As I walked up to the door and saw heads of scruffy hair I couldn't help be silently cheer victory that not everyone had been taken into brutal custody. But as I walked in, of course, I realized I was sorely mistaken.

None of the heads turned to greet me as I all but waltzed in. I wasn't so concerned about the fact that they didn't greet me; more alarming was the fact that they didn't look up to see who was going through the door at all. It could have been Teddy Roosevelt for all intents and purposes, but no one would have turned. Not a one.

I saw Davey leaning against a beam, his arms folded and head down. His face was contorted in some kind of sick despondency that gave me a shiver just to look at him.

Not knowing the rest of them well enough to interrupt their hopeless solitude, I creeped over to David. I was standing right in front of him and he didn't do a thing. Not a nod, not a wink, not a smirk. Nothing. But what was I expecting?

"Davey?" I asked, feeling my spine double back on itself in fear.

He barely lifted his eyes to look at me.

"What's going on?"

I never should have asked.

It took him a minute to gather up the spirits to answer. "It's ruined."

I flinched, but I had to ask. "Did you… I mean, you didn't all get…"

He lifted his head and I knew it. All of them had spent a sleepless night in a jail cell, while I gallivanted off to freedom.

"Where's Jack?"

Another dangerous question.

"He's locked up."

"He's still in jail? Why isn't he here with the rest of you?"

Oh, such petty questions, Izzie. Why even bother asking?

"None of it mattered, Izzie. Jack's locked up and the rally didn't work."

"What do you mean 'the rally didn't work'? There were so many people there, and the newspapers – "

He pushed himself off the beam and uncrossed his arms, standing straight up and looking down at me.

"It didn't work! The newspapers aren't covering it, so it might as well not have happened."

I paused for a moment. "And Jack?"

"He's gone. They took him to the Refuge."

Now, as unfamiliar as I was about the newsie world, I had certainly heard about The Refuge in passing. I never caught any gruesome details, but from its general reputation and the look on Davey's face, I knew it wasn't a good place for Jack to be.

I looked at all the faces around me – expressions clear that they all might have been in the Refuge themselves.

Race was disconsolate

Blink was morose.

Skittery was…only slightly glummer than when I had seen him before.

So, instead of staying and comforting them in their time of need, I left.

Let me try to explain. I had just definitively lost my best friend and the only other friends I had were about to be taken away from me too. If the strike didn't work, we had nothing in common and therefore had no reason to speak to one another again. They were nice enough, but nice can only take you so far in a doomed relationship.

I was so overwhelmed in that moment by my misfortune (yes, I'm selfish, I know) that I couldn't stand it anymore. I just walked out of that restaurant and stood in the street, staring ahead of me like a dope.

I heard the bell of the door to Tibby's ring several times as who I assumed were the newsies filed out. I didn't bother to go after them and they didn't bother to invite me. I didn't know where they were going, and I didn't care. They were done with me (or so I thought).

I wandered around Manhattan for exactly 5 hours, with no direction whatsoever. was all I had on my mind.

My 5 hour stroll completed, I sat down on a curb. I was desperate and lonely. Feeling particularly sorry for myself, I got up again and walked to Lola's apartment for the second time in the day.

If I had already lost the newsies, there was no reason I shouldn't try to get my best friend back.

Lola just stared when she saw me standing outside her door. I asked her to talk for a minute on the fire escape and she agreed, with a hint of a smirk on her face. Was it legal to try to slap it off her? Never mind, I'd had enough violence to last me a lifetime.

So there we sat, our legs hanging off the metal platform next to each other.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything.

"I don't know why I did it. It just seemed right at the time."

Again, nothing.

"Look, you're my best friend, Lola. I'll give it all up – I just want to be your friend again."

This was, without a doubt, the lowest point in my life thus far. I was so desperate for company that I wasted no time in throwing out the newsies and reeling Lola back in. I was using everyone, and in the end deceiving myself.

I shot a look at Lola out of curiosity. Her eyebrows were knit, so I assumed she was about to reject my apology, but to my surprise she simply said, "All right Izzie."

That one threw me for a loop. "Really?"

"Sure, as long as you don't ever see those boys again."

No problem, I thought to myself. They want nothing to do with me. I'm no use to them anymore.

"All right."

Lola turned and smiled at me and wrapped me in a big hug. A nice gesture, but it felt entirely false. I had no doubt Lola really wanted to be my friend again, but deep down she must have known what had really brought me back to her.

At that moment, I didn't care, and she didn't care. We were "friends" again, and would go back to the same routine as always.

It hit me. "Lola, but what happened to Carlos?"

"Oh," she said, waving off the question as if I had merely asked if she passed a test. "My mother went and got him this morning."

"Is he all right?"

"For the most part. He keeps complaining about a bruise on his stomach."

"Oh," I said, averting my eyes. "That's too bad."

"I think it was one of those newsies."

Lola could be really daft sometimes. It was just like her to think I would turn right around and start bad mouthing them with her.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Buenas noches, Lola."

I have never been lonelier walking back home.