"Clara, what are you doin' here?!" Jack demanded, glowering at her. This was unbelievably-how could she have followed him?

"Why did you go to Boston?" she asked, curiously. Jack shook his head, disgusted with her. "Look," he began, gesturing with his hand, "it's my personal business, ok? Anyway, what were you doin' followin' me here??" Jack sighed in annoyance.

Clara shrugged slightly, "I just wanted to know where you were going so I followed you to the train yards. I got on the train but, well, I didn't think it was going to be leaving just yet. But then it started to pull away and," Clara looked up at Jack with wide eyes, "well, I just ended up here I guess." She shrugged helplessly. Jack frowned and rolled his eyes. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with this. Jack sighed and glanced around, trying to decide what to do next. "C'mon, we're gettin' out of here," Jack said, hurriedly starting down the street, Clara close at his heels.

"Angel-la! Hurry up! We're gonna be late!" Johnny yelled from the doorway.

"I'm coming!!!" Angela screamed, clattering down the stairs, nearly dropping her school books in the process. She brushed past Johnny and began walking down the block.

"What took so long?" Johnny asked, somewhat exasperated.

"Nothing," Angela muttered, staring at the pavement. In reality she has managed to misplace Jack's bandanna and had gone tearing through her room in a fit of rage, only to realize that she had braided it in her hair that day. She patted her braid self conscious, checking that the bandanna was still tied around it. Looking up she caught sight of a pair of cold blue eyes watching her. It was the newsie from the other night. Split had said his name was Ryan, but everyone called him Ice, because of his cold, emotionless eyes. Angela had been seeing him more and more in the past few days selling his newspapers on a nearby corner. He continued to yell headlines but his eyes locked with Angela's following her across the street and into the school yard. Angela met his gaze evenly, her face blank. Although she hated to admit it, she found Ryan's stare extremely unnerving. Swallowing hard, Angela broke her gaze and turned away, walking inside the school.

"Jack, for the hundredth time, where are we going?" Clara whined, dragging her feet on the ground. Jack didn't answer, partially because he didn't exactly know. So far he had asked four people for directions to Durham Hall, Angela's school. He had also tried asking for the address on Angela's letter but it had just turned into a wild goose chase. No one knew where Durham Hall was and to Jack's dismay, the street Angela lived on, 7th avenue, stretched on for miles. By now it was early afternoon and things were looking pretty hopeless.

"Governors private train car overturns! Many killed!" A voice proclaimed. Jack stopped abruptly, causing Clara to crash into him. Mumbling an apology, Jack turned to see the owner of the voice. A tall boy with red brown hair was yelling outrageous headlines on the corner.

"Excuse me," Jack said, approaching the newsie, "but do ya know where Durham Hall is? Or how ta find dis address?" He held out the envelope with Angela's address. The boy took the envelope and studied the address carefully.

"Go to the end of this block and turn left. Keep going 3 or 4 blocks and you'll come to Durham Hall. The address on the letter is one block south from the school," the newsie slowly, examining the letter one final time before handing it back over to Jack.