"Hey, thanks a lot!" Split said, walking out the door.

"It's no problem," Angela said, following him. She had invited him in and given him dinner. After all, no one else was home and she hated eating alone. Not to mention he probably needed a good meal for once. Angela sighed, noticing how dark it had gotten outside. She frowned, feeling guilty for keeping the newsie so long. It had cut into his selling time. Angela sighed again and scrutinized the boy's remaining pile of newspapers.

"Hey, Split." Angela said distractedly.

"Yeah?" Split replied, turning to face Angela.

"I'll tell ya what. I'll buy the rest of your papers. I feel bad for taking up so much of your time and everything." Angela offered.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that!" Split exclaimed.

Angela smiled. "It's no problem," she said truthfully, reaching into her dress pocket to retrieve some money. Split, although rather stunned at this display of generosity, managed to thank Angela.

"What do you think you're doing?" A cold voice sliced through the darkness. Angela turned around to face the voice. A figure stepped out of the ally.

"Excuse me?" Angela said, annoyed. A tall, thin boy stood before her. He had a narrow face, and dark reddish brown hair cut close to his head. His hard blue eyes glared at Angela.

"What do you think you're doing?" he repeated, slower this time.

"Buying newspapers." Angela said.

"Listen," the boy said, grabbing Angela's arm and pulling her towards the ally.

"Let go of me," Angela said testily, twisting her arm out of his grasp.

The boy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, miss, I don't what you think you're doing but we newsies don't take charity from nobody," he said roughly.

Angela shook her head. "I invited him inside for dinner and took up all his selling time, the least I can do is buy his papers. It's no trouble."

"No!" the boy said, growing annoyed.

Angela narrowed her eyes at him. "Who do you think you are? We both know he's not going to be able to sell the rest of those papers. It's my fault, I took up his time," she said, lowering her voice. The boy shook his head and shot Angela a withering look. Angela's eyes widened; he thought she was stupid.

"I don't appreciate that," she said flatly.

"Appreciate what?" he spat.

"You think I'm stupid! You think I have no idea what it's like to be a newsie! You think I'm just taking pity on you!" With each word Angela's voice grew more shrill, her anger very apparent.

"Hey, I-" the boy started.

"No! Let me tell you something. I'm not saying that I know what it's like to break my back all day selling newspapers because I don't know. But I do know that it's hard work and I respect that. And I know that that kid over there," Angela indicated with her hand, "is not going to be able to sell those newspapers and it's partially my fault. So I'd like to make it up to him, ok?"