A/N: I own nothing to do with the Lost Boys. Thank you so much for your reviews and kind words so far, I really do appreciate it so much.

And, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Chapter Three

The boys decide to get an early night and I am thankful for it. I felt the need to be alone, the need to wallow uninterruptedly without anyone overlooking. I pad slowly toward the bed and sit down next to Susie, my legs crossed. The springs squeak a little. I start to wonder idly how old this bed is, if the boys have slept in it. The thought doesn't agree with me very well. My stomach lurches at the thought of sharing the same pillow that David has used.

I watch Susie for a moment, the way her chest rises and falls with every inhale and exhale. It starts to dawn on me that she actually looks peaceful, happy. My throat constricts at the thought and I have to look away from her. On one of the stands by the bed, there's a dusty, dank empty alcohol bottle with a lit and burning candle corked inside the neck.

It provides a soft, low light that makes shadows dance eerily across the wall and illuminates an opening in one of the large, dark crevices on the wall. I have a sudden intense urge to go investigating. I creep off the bed slowly and pick up the bottle, directing the light toward the opening.

When I go inside the first thing that hits me is the smell: something is obviously rotting in here. A dead animal or a carcass of some sort, perhaps? A plethora of unanswerables run through my head. I raise my free hand and try to cover my nose with it, try to mask out some of the unpleasant strong stench, but it only makes it worse.

I direct the candlelight above me and am astonished by my findings.

The four boys are hovering silently in the air. It was a sight I have never seen before in my entire life. Their hands are drawn to their chests protectively. Marko looks serene, peaceful sleeping. His sandy colored hair is splayed out, hanging wildly underneath him. I sneak a look over at David and I am suddenly rigid with tension. The difference in his face is startling. He almost looks younger. He looks like a benign carbon copy of the despicable David that I know and see when he is awake.

The stench is starting to become overwhelming. I turn slowly, holding the bottle low to the ground so the orange flickers of candlelight will expose any hazardous dips and cracks in the ground that may cause me to go stumbling or tripping over. Then I hear a sound that puzzles me, causes me to stand rooted to the spot. I swivel around at the sound of it.

A low growl of agony clatters in David's throat. Whatever it is he is dreaming of, it mustn't be very pleasant at all. A very strange feeling washes over me, this intense need to comfort him and I turn back and make a start toward him.

His eyes suddenly pop open. I don't know if he is fully alert or not to see me standing right there, frozen, but all I know is that the irises of his eyes are no longer the cold slate blue they always appeared to be. Now they are red, bloodshot, murderous...

I didn't have the courage to bring to light the fact that I was lurking around, that I watched the boys sleeping in one of the looming, dark crevices in the cave. If David did notice it, he certainly didn't mention it at all. Curiosity simply got the better of me.

People seemed to treat me differently now that they notice I'm constantly tagging alongside the boys. They don't dare look in my direction and, if they do, they look at me with fear, caution. It was very bizarre. I presumed it was because they knew what the boys were capable of, how dangerous they were. It sent an odd thrill through me.

A band is playing on the Boardwalk this evening and the sound resounds wonderfully in my ears. The energy in the air is phenomenal. I think of myself standing there by the rails with David and the boys who are now chattering and ignoring me and the band and music that are blaring brilliantly from the stage a walk away. It only takes me a moment to make up my mind; I want to dance, I want to let go of my troubles and I want to blend in, be free.

A really well-built man without a shirt on, holding a saxophone, occupies the stage. Three other musicians are behind him, standing bass, drums. The crowds are swinging furiously to the beat of the music. I walk into it, drowning in a sea of head bangers and hippies. I sway my hips slowly to the music and a Goth girl with a burning cigarette between her fingers looks over at me:

I been in a cave
For forty days
Only a spark
To light my way

The music vibrates through my tailbone and up my spine.

I look over toward the boys. Marko sees me and gives me a little wave. "Come dance with me!" I yell at the top of my lungs. Marko starts moving on the spot, vibrating with the bass line, flailing his arms around. Paul jumps in, stepping to the music, imitating a head banger and flinging his head around:

I wanna give out
I wanna give in
This is our crime
This is our sin
But I still believe!

The singer blows on the saxophone and the hot, catchy hymn smacks me right in the face. I'm sweating and panting now. The music is rousing, encouraging. Soon enough Dwayne joins in, shaking his head and his dark long hair making a black blur around him. I close my eyes and the music runs straight through me, grabs hold of me without consent and moves my feet and hips and shoulders and arms. I open my eyes to see David watching me, a cigarette hanging between his lips.

I ignore him and turn around on the spot.

That's when I see him; I spy him from over the crowd. He looks fairly young, early twenties maybe. He's wearing a plain black T-shirt and jeans and hi-tops. He isn't dancing; he's just standing quietly, looking around. A boy next to him with a bright green Mohawk looks defensive, saying something to him. It looks like he's saying something rather unpleasant because he grimaces. I stop dancing and my heart is pounding. I squeeze my way through the crowd. He stares at me when I'm halfway toward him, his face bleak and confused.

I stand close and speak in his ear, "You're not dancing?" I ask loudly.

He nods then leans over me and shouts, "I honestly don't know how." I laugh. We just stand for a moment, watching the crowd and listening to the music. The music crashes to an end and then the masses of people clap, cheering for the singer and his band. A moment later, another song begins. This time it's more goading and soft.

The boy raises his voice over the music, "Will you teach me?" I look over to find him staring at me with his gray eyes. He steps back and throws his hands in the direction of the crowd. I nod. He looks grim, nervous, on guard as I take his hand and slowly drag him into the crowd.

We blend in easily and I start swaying my hips to the beat. He hardly moves at all, concentrating fiercely on the way my body moves. Then he starts nodding his head fervently, his dark, curly hair falling into his forehead. I try not to laugh. I nod my head along with him, trying to encourage him.

After a moment he stops and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He leans in closer, looking frustrated. "I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. "This is a waste of your time. I honestly can't dance at all..."

I smile and put my mouth near his ear. "Don't take yourself so seriously," I say emphatically. "You aren't that bad at dancing. You just need to loosen up..."

I start to dance again but he stops me. "Do you want to get a bite to eat?" he asks.

I consider. David and the other boys shouldn't mind if I'm away for an hour or two. I look over in their direction. They are all standing by the railings, chattering away, and I notice Susie is riding Dwayne's back like a little monkey, her head bobbing happily every time he moves or makes a gesture with his hands. The sight leaves me close to tears and I honestly don't know why.

I realize Susie has adapted to her new lifestyle with the boys so easily, whereas I haven't been willing to accept it at all. I'd feel like a traitor if I did. Our mother will never know that we are alive and happy. She will never see us again. I tried and we have no choice. Susie's fate has already been decided beyond repair. I know it will hurt to never see her again, but the thought of maybe someday we will run into her and my mother will finally then know, know for certain that Susie and I are all right, is something that keeps me hopeful and strong.

Still, David and I got along like cats and dogs. I couldn't bring myself not to despise him. It was something that came naturally for me. Ever since the first night at their underground home – cave, abode, I still didn't know what to call it – where I spoiled their supper, David has been treating me differently than Susie or the other boys. It's almost as if he purposely goes out of his way to annoy me or upset me.

He often used my raging appetite to his advantage; I haven't been able to eat a proper meal in days without reluctantly opening a box and finding beetles, scorpions, and other disgusting creatures withering and lurking inside; I think it was about time I finally gave up on accepting the food he was offering.

I look down at my watch. It's almost 1.00 in the morning. I didn't realize how late it was; it certainly didn't seem late. I realize its way past Susie's bedtime, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. She seems fully awake, aware.

"Yes, I would like that very much," I agree at last.

We start walking slowly on the Boardwalk together. Three steps toward the railings, they all turn to look at me; David is taking a long drag of his cigarette and gray, whitish smoke is trailing out of his nostrils. Marko and Paul whistle loudly and the boy next to me tenses, stiffens underneath his clothing. I try again not to laugh. The boy seems very jumpy. Susie starts bouncing around on Dwayne's shoulders, her small little hands reaching out for me. I wave at her, reminding her that I haven't forgotten about her and she noticeably relaxes a little, tugging on a long strand of Dwayne's hair.

"Ouch, you little bugger," I hear him say and Susie giggles boisterously. I smile at the sound, relieved.

The boy glances quickly over his shoulder back at them. When he meets my gaze again, he looks worried. "You know those guys?" he asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod, quickly looking down at my fingernails. "Something like that, yes," I reply.

"Oh," he only says. He looks incredulous, his brows furrowed. There's a long moment of silence where we reach one of the hotdog stands, then he turns to face me. "Is a hotdog all right for you?" he asks. I nod silently.

I go to pay for mine but he shakes his head; he pays and then we both wander around silently. There are a lot of girls around in vintage flannel dresses, boys in combat gear. There are hardly any older people out at this time of the night. I start to wonder if this is a popular scene for youngsters here in Santa Carla.

I take a small bite of my hotdog and chew it laboriously before swallowing. Although I was indeed very hungry, my nerves made me feel nauseous about eating in front of this boy. I liked him. He was very different than Marko or Paul, Dwayne or David, even. He was very quiet, thoughtful, kind...

He glances over at me before cramming some of the hotdog into his mouth. Although it seemed quite bizarre, I found it fascinating to watch him eat. The Adam's apple on his throat bobbed up and down when he swallowed and he had yellow mustard on the corner of his mouth. Before I can contain myself, I daub at his mouth with my napkin in a very motherly gesture. He looks down at me, confused.

I feel so stupid. "I'm sorry," I say quickly, looking down at my hotdog. "You just had mustard on your mouth. It was very distracting."

He laughs and I found the sound of it very pleasing. "I get a tad carried away when I eat," I hear him say softly. I nod. He stares out over the Boardwalk and I take the opportunity to look at him. He's very handsome in a benign sort of way. His hair is black, shoulder-length, curly. He exudes masculinity and geniality, unlike David who looks as if he might bite... literally.

"Is it always this eventful at night?" he asks suddenly, hoarsely, and I quickly look away from him.

"Yes," I admit reluctantly. I eat a quick bite of my hotdog and then swallow before saying, "I only just moved here."

He looks taken aback. "I've lived here since yesterday," he says, smiling amiably. "I thought you were a long-timer in this town, considering your friends back there..." My heart sinks at the word "friends".

"They aren't my friends," I say defensively. I felt this sudden compulsion to make it clear that they weren't the kind of people I usually hang around with. "I was sort of... obligated to be around them." It was the only way to explain without revealing too much of my bizarre predicament to this stranger.

He nods and runs a hand over his face, and I can see a silver earring dangling from the lobe of his right ear. It seemed something all the boys did nowadays so it didn't exactly surprise me. But it glistened in the faint light. "Oh, yeah. What's your name?" he asks and that's when I remembered I hadn't introduced myself.

"Ruby," I answer quietly.

He extends his free hand. "I'm Patrick." I shake his hand, chanting the name silently in my head. Patrick. That's a nice name for a nice boy. I feel a weird combination of contentment and freedom over this knowledge.

"Are one of those guys back there your boyfriend?" he asks, waving a hand over his shoulder.

I sigh. "Definitely not." I have a sudden dismal thought of dating one of the boys and having them lock me in a coffin full of insects, surrounded by their raucous laughter. I shudder at the thought. It seems like something they would do.

"Of course not. I mean, you don't seem like the type..." I hear him say, talking faster and faster by the minute. He lowers his voice, pondering loudly. "I've heard they have quite the clouded reputation. You seem like a nice girl. It doesn't make any sense..." He suddenly stops walking and lifts up his half-eaten hotdog. "I can't eat anymore," he says, looking strangely guilty.

I laugh. "Yes, I'm sorry but I can't either..." We both stride over to one of the trashcans and dump our hotdogs in at the same time. We spend the next few minutes walking in the opposite direction.

I start to feel uneasy as we reach the end of the Boardwalk where the boys and Susie are still by the railings, waiting. Patrick seems to notice this. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at me. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Ruby," he says before looking down at his sneakers.

I hear Marko and Paul starting with their whistling again. "Kiss him," Paul says in a taunting growl. He suddenly looks uncomfortable, his body stiffening and I know that he's heard it too. He runs a hand through his hair before meeting my gaze. "I'll see you around," he says quietly, looking over my shoulder and glancing at the boys pointedly before turning on his heel and walking down the steps.

I stare after him for a moment. Someone puts their arm around my shoulder, jostling me. It's Marko. He's grinning broadly, leading me over to the boys and Susie. "Why didn't you just bone him, little sister?" I hear Paul say, laughing. His laughter falls short when David punches him in the stomach. "Oof," he says, clutching his stomach.

Susie is still up on Dwayne's shoulders. She makes a loud noise, holding her arms out to me and struggling to get off his shoulders. As Dwayne gently puts Susie onto her feet, she comes toddling straight over to me. I am startled by the difference in her face. She looks thinner. Her eyes look too big for her face. I kneel down, stroking her soft, curly hair. "Are you okay, Susie?" I ask quietly. She nods.

David kneels down, looking at Susie now, who has her thumb in her mouth. He whispers something in her ear, something that I can't make out. The closeness between Susie and him annoys me. I don't exactly know why it bothers me so much. He squeezes her shoulder and then she grabs his black coat urgently, pulling him closer to her. She says something in return, some confirmation of some sort and he nods his head slowly and smirks. He stands, looming over me.

"Feeding time," Marko announces, clasping his hands together and regarding me anxiously.