"Angela." Johnny said breathlessly, touching her on the shoulder. Angela turned, startled.

"Hey, Ange, umm..." Johnny hesitated, feeling guilty, "I'm going over to Carl's house. He invited me to dinner." Johnny said apologetically. He felt guilty about spending time with new friends when Angela didn't have any. Angela shrugged slightly. "Ok. I'll tell Dad when I get home."

"Oh, Dad's not home." Johnny said surprised.

"Well, where is he?" Angela looked at Johnny expectantly.

"He went on some business trip," Johnny said, rolling his eyes, "he'll be back tomorrow night." Johnny turned to go, his friends were waiting. Angela turned back to the window, staring out absently. "Probably went to New York." she muttered under her breath. She sighed and pushed open the front doors, venturing out into the gray afternoon.

Angela slowly sauntered down the street, ignoring the cold rain that had begun to fall. She would be home soon enough. She hurriedly crossed the muddy street and walked to the corner where her house was located.

"Extry, extry, Mayor's house goes up in flames! Many killed!" A small boy cried, waving a soggy newspaper in the air. Angela paused at her front door to stare at him. He was selling right in front of her house, not the most profitable location. It was cold and raining and the street was deserted. Angela walked back down her front steps and over to the small newsie.

"Here. I'll buy a paper." The little boy smiled gratefully and removed a newspaper from his rather sizable stack. Angela smiled and handed him a nickel, figuring he could use the tip.

"Thank you, miss."

"You're welcome," Angela said, frowning at she wrestled with the water-logged newspaper. Angela studied him. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Nine," the boy said, staring up at her with sad brown eyes.

Angela narrowed her eyes. "I already bought the paper, you can drop the act. How old are you, for real." The newsie squinted at her in the rain, somewhat baffled at her reaction.

"I'm eleven," he said truthfully. Angela nodded. "Fair enough. I'm Angela." she said, extending her hand. "Robbie," the boy said, shaking her hand.

"And your friends call you?" Angela looked at him expectantly.

The newsie looked at her strangely. "Split. They call me Split," he said warily.

"So Split, ya wanna come inside and dry off?" Angela offered. At least there would be someone to talk to.