The Crossways
By Socks O'Connor and RiffRaff McColley

The sky was cloudy, gray, and dark. It was cold and the city of New York even smelt worse than it normally did. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best of days to start the career of a newspaper peddler.

            Yet, in spite of everything, there was someone starting that particular career that day, and she wasn’t very successful, nor was she having a good day. She was just let go from her old job yesterday and had said goodbye to her friends and left the lodging house where she was boarding at that very morning. She was dressed in a rutty skirt, wore a cap on her head, and had eighteen unsellable papers underneath her arm so she even felt out of place in her own skin.

            Things could have been worse, but this girl wouldn’t be able to figure out how for another thirty seconds. At this moment of time, she was reading through a paper, trying to find a better headline to shout than the one she had been shouting for the last two hours.

 *           *             *

 Another particular character was dressed very plainly and was running as fast as she could with a stack of music sheets underneath one arm and her other arm used to try to keep her skirts out of her boots’ way.

            “Shit! Shit! Shit… Shit!” The young woman hissed between her clenched teeth, extracting the attention of some passerbys whom passed her glares for her profanity.

            She had always applauded herself for having so much influence over the actions of her boyfriend, Sharks, whom had achieved her every whim and wail for the last three years, however whenever he gave her the puppy-dog eye look, she’d “melt like buttah.”

            When Sharks used it last, he was trying (or begging, to be precise) her to go to his boxing match against a boy from uptown, who was the same size as Sharks, but lacked Sharks’ skill and so was beaten. She happily awarded the winner a kiss before she realized she was late to her next job.

            All Riffraff could think about was to get to the job in the next five minutes or else her job would go to someone else. She picked up the pace.

            She spun around a corner.

            WHAM!

            Papers were suddenly scattered everywhere and Riffraff McColley was sprawled on the ground with a new found pain on her rear end. She screamed, “No!” As she knew she couldn’t get all of her papers together in time to get to the job. “You idiot,” she snapped with fury at the body looking confused on the ground where it sat. “Why don’t you watch where you’re goin’?!” A newspaper landed on her head. “Argh!” She shouted as she tore the thing in half.

            “No!” the unfamiliar person squeaked as she watched the newspaper being torn. She tried to recover the pieces. “I paid for that! I’m trying to eat tonight, you know?!” the newsie yelled crossly.

            ‘Idiot newsboy’, Riffraff thought to herself as she tried to gather up her music quickly. She quickly glanced at the newspaper peddler who was trying to restack all the fallen newspapers, and for a moment Riffraff proved to be a little bit surprised and had to change her thought. “Idiot newsgirl,” her thought now stood.

            “Well,” Riffraff hissed in defense. “Then ya shouldn’ have knocked me ovah!” She looked over with a prideful glare. “You’he lucky that newspapah weren’t you.”

            The newsgirl gave a disgustingly aghast expression. “I can’t believe you! You race around the corner, knock me over, send my papers all over the place, shred one of them, and then you have the nerve to say it was my fault?” She squinted, her mouth open in disbelief. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

            Riffraff drew her pocket watch from her coat pocket and pursed her lips. “I just… Lost… The job…” She looked at the girl with her eyebrows diagonal over her eyes. “Thanks a lot,” she spat sarcastically. “That would ‘a paid foh a week’s wohth of booze an’ cigarettes,” she stated with a very thick eastern New Jersey accent.

            The newsgirl rolled her eyes. “How much did it pay?” she asked as if the job couldn’t have paid more than a quarter.

            “Ten bucks,” Riffraff replied flatly.

            The newsie almost dropped her recovered papers. “All for you?”

            “No, ass. For da muffin man,” came the sarcastic reply.

            The newsie raised a curious brow. “All booze and cigarettes?”

            “Damn skippy,” Riffraff replied.

            The newsie rolled her eyes at the overpaid girl before her and said as snootily as she could, “Well, thanks for the fun chat, but I have newspapers to sell.” Her teeth were gritted.

            Riffraff stood and traced her pocket for a piece of string. “Well, it looks like you suck at it. Quite a stack you got there.” She began to roll up her music sheets nicely and tied a red piece of ribbon around the roll.

            “WELL I DON’T!” The girl snapped, then began to hawk the headlines with a headline about some crooked politician as if it was exciting news.

            Newspaper selling was nothing to be acquired naturally, and Riffraff now believed it as she witnessed. She had lived with several newsboys before and knew that this girl was really bad at it. The girl wasn’t even hawking an interesting headline. Most of the headlines were good and sold themselves nicely, but there wasn’t a paper packed full of good ones, and it was a fact that some headlines had to be stretched a bit from the truth.

            “You’re too honest about it, Dearie,” Riffraff criticized simply, swaying her head from side to side like a sassy pigeon. “It’s not good for youh business. Believe me when I say that the only pehson I know who can push ovah ten bucks a week sellin’ honest papahs is Spot Conlon from Brooklyn.” She gave a pause at the name and studied the girl’s expression. “And I know you ain’t got no correlation with him. I mean, if you constantly run inta people like you do it’s a wondah that you’he still alive.”

            The newsie obviously wasn’t in a good enough mood to handle such a criticism from this stranger. “AS a matter of FACT,” she began. “I don’t make a habit of running into people. I was reading the headlines then you turn the corner like a bat outta hell. You can’t possibly expect me to say it was all my fault.”

            Riffraff’s mouth hung open as if she was in awe. “Excuse me—I’m Riffraff McColley,” Riffraff said slowly as if the newsgirl didn’t understand English, giving her the same look she’d give to someone who said they didn’t know what a toothbrush was. She then put a hand on her chest and gave a look that expected a prompt apology.

            “And I’m Socks O’Conner,” the newsie replied, trying to equal to the intimidating presence of Riffraff McColley.

            Riffraff rolled her eyes. “I don’t cahe who you ahe,” she snapped with a load of arrogance. “But anybody who’s anybody knows that if you’re in Riffraff McColley’s way, you get out of it.” Suddenly Riffraff shrugged and added with simplicity, “Of course, since you’re nobody I guess I could forgive you.”

            Socks stood red-faced and speechless, beginning to grip her newspapers far too tightly.

            Riffraff simply took her pocket watch from her pocket again and clicked her tongue before she retired her watch into her pocket. “It’s getting’ late, anyway.” She put the roll of music into her pocket as well. “An’ mos’ people in the city’s got the evenin’ edition.” She waited a moment and waved her hand. “Here, I’ll show ya a place you can stay.”

            Socks paused into stillness. That Riffraff girl sure did make an unexpected remark, or it might have been Socks’ own mind just playing a cruel joke, but she was amazed nonetheless. “How’d you know I needed a place to stay?”

            Riffraff shrugged harmlessly. “Well, if you don’t know who I am, ya must be new.”

            Socks looked down at her papers, biting her lip as she thought deeply. Should she go with the egomaniac? She actually didn’t want to, but she needed a place to stay and she had nothing to loose. “But I have newspapers to sell still,” she finally said.

            Riffraff shook her head and motioned to a couple of young newsboys who quickly approached upon the summoning. “Hey, Riffraff!” they chimed cheerfully.

            Riffraff obviously didn’t know the two young boys’ names from Adam. “Uh….” She paused to decide to humour the two. “Heyya!” She grabbed the papers away from Socks (who let out a shout of protest) and handed them to the two boys. “Dis looks like eighteen papers, boys, pay up,” Riffraff said as if the boys had asked to but them, holding out her hand.

            The boys both gave a look of protest, but handed her eighteen cents nonetheless. “Heyah, but can ya not do dis to us again?” they pleaded.

            Riffraff ignored them. “Thanks,” she said to them flatly then waved a dismissive hand, which the boys understood clearly as ‘vamoose.’ They turned and ran as if she was carrying a gun in her pocket, not even caring about the extra papers they had to sell… But it was a normal occurrence for the most part. If an older newsie couldn’t sell his newspapers, he would sell them to younger ones, and they would accept with no questions asked (unless they wanted a black eye.)

            Riffraff counted the change she shook around in a flattened hand and then handed the money to Socks who looked confused from it all.

            “I don’t understand,” Socks said, shaking her head from side to side. “Why did you do that? It was sort of mean…”

            Riffraff shrugged and simply said, “Because I’m Riffraff McColley.”

            “And I’m still Socks O’Connor,” Socks replied with exasperation. “What makes you so special?”

            Riffraff gave a thin smile. “I am who I am, and who I am is the one and only goylfriend of Shahks O’Malley, and a ridiculously talented local pianist. Especially in Joisey. New York’s a dreadful place.”

            Socks’ eyebrows went up with interest. “Really? I know some piano, too. Maybe you and I could play a duet sometime.” She remembered how her mother had forced her to have piano lessons for years until she learned how to somewhat enjoy it.

            Riffraff McColley’s face looked like it was made of stone, obviously not amused. “Don’t make jokes, deah, ‘cause you ain’t funny,” she ordered flatly, then she promptly turned heal and began to walk down the street quickly. “Come on, I’ll show ya the way to a lodgin’ house.”

            “In New Jersey?” Socks countered, stepping enthusiastically by the other girl’s side, pocketing her money.

            Riffraff gave a despiteful snort and replied, “Of couhse not. I don’t like you—why the hell would I want you so close?”

            Socks’ mouth hung open a moment. Never before had she been so quickly judged. “Don’t like me? You don’t even know me!” she argued.

            Riffraff kept her pace. “I know enough to decide I don’t like you. But maybe if you’re lucky, these people you’re going to live with will like you.” She then turned to Socks for the quickest moment. “Or—if you’re unlucky, rather.” She continued to walk.

            “Do you try to be an unlikable person?” Socks finally asked with a quirked eyebrow.

            Riffraff gave a sneer and didn’t answer.

            The place where Riffraff lead Socks was to a narrow, townhouse-like building which served as a lodging house to most of the independent local newspaper boys in Manhattan.

            The lodging house obviously had a sign over it that clearly said, “Newsboys Lodging House” but even if Riffraff could read the sign, she’d probably bring Socks to the same place.

            Socks simply didn’t notice the sign.

            They both pulled open the doors of the building and they both looked about before approaching an old man wearing a bowler’s cap, who sat behind the front desk reading a newspaper. He didn’t seem to notice that the two girls came in, and Riffraff even had to knock on the desk before the man looked up.

            “Mistah Kloppman—long time no see!” Riffraff said, taking off her white gloves.

            “You ain’t here to stir up da boys again, is ya?” the old man accused, squinting an eye at her.

            “Las’ time wasn’t my fault, Kloppman, you know that,” Riffraff McColley countered.

            “Yeah, well, you know bettah than ta let Shahks go up deyah wit’ cha,” he replied, then gave a bit of a grin. “What can I do ya for, anyways?”

            “A new recruit for the house,” she answered. She turned to Socks. “This right heyah is Miss Socks O’Connah. She needs a place to stay. Socks, this gentleman right heyah is Mistah Kloppman, runnah of this heyah institution.”

            Socks looked a bit uncertain and with reason (for this McColley girl didn’t seem the type that would be nice all of the sudden), but she gave a polite smile nonetheless. “Please to meet you,” she said.

            Kloppman nodded in Socks’ direction. “Same heyah, but if you’re lookin’ for a place to stay, no girls ahe allowed heyah.”

            This was obviously new information to Riffraff. “Whadd’ya mean? Ya let me come up thehe all da time!”

            Kloppman sighed and explained, “Yeah—well, foyst of all, you’he Shahks’ goyl, and despite youh wondahful reputation of faithfulness, the boys wouldn’t touch you. Second—you don’t sleep heyah. You hassle ‘em an’ den you go.”

            Socks looked rather disappointed in not being allowed to do something, but she wasn’t too keen on sharing a room with a bunch of men, anyway. She leaned over and murmured to Riffraff, “Don’t worry, I can find somewhere else to stay.”

            Riffraff shook her head. “No, you can stay heyah.” She turned back to Kloppman and pulled a new pair of gloves out of one of her pockets, not the ones she had recently taken off, but a newer and cleaner pair than the others. “Ya know, Kloppman,” she said smoothly. “I know a couple ‘o Joisey boys who would jus’ love ta stay hehe an’ pay youh boys a anothah lil’ visit.”

            Kloppman pursed his old lips at the threat, but had no other choice but to give in. “Okay, okay,” he sighed. “But if I heah any stories about her bein’ anythin’ less than a lady…”

            Socks looked rather offended. “Mister Kloppman, you can trust me,” she stated proudly. She regretted it almost instantly.

            Kloppman nodded. “I’ll head ya upstaihs and show you your room, den.” He began to come out from behind the desk and started to pull himself up the stairs.

            “Thank you, Sir,” Socks said rather quietly as she easily won the battle she didn’t even want to win and followed him up the stairs. Riffraff followed her as she began to fret in her thoughts. ‘Oh, God, I’m the only girl in an all boys lodging house. This is going to be quite different than I’m used to, I can tell’.

She found herself in a well-kept bunkroom with several bunk beds, electrical lighted ceilings, and a washroom near by. It was quite a large room and it put her in awe. A table rested in the center of the room with tables strewn around it, but besides it and the bunk beds, there was very little furniture to be spoken of.

            Kloppman slapped his old hand down on a bunk post. “This is where you’ll be stayin’. This bunk right here—da top. Fresh linens are on it. The washroom an’ the W.C.’s are all ovah in dat room. The boys should be commin’ in real soon, I’m sure, an’ dey’ll treat you fine. If dey don’t, come strait to me an’ I’ll deal wit’ them.” The old man winked and gave a smile. “G’night,” he said before leaving the room to climb back down the stairs.

            Socks was presently under the impression that she was simply having a nightmare, but no—she would have awaken in a cold sweat by now.

            “Well, dearie,” Riffraff said after examining the bunk for dust by running her finger over the wood and found it satisfactorily clean. “Looks like you’re taken care of now, so I’ll jus’ skidaddle. So long!” Riffraff raised her hand in a half-assed wave and began to leave the room.

            Socks’ mouth dropped open for a moment and she jumped in front of an exiting Riffraff. “Wait! You can’t just leave me here!” she cried with desperation.

            “Sure I can!” Riffraff replied cheerfully as if taking Socks’ quote to be literal.

            Socks gave a frustrated “Argh!”, looking as if she could take her own hair out.

            Riffraff chuckled and clucked, “Don’t worry yourself. Jus’ what ya do is tell Jack, Blink, and Racetrack that their mahkahs to Shahks are paid if they don’t kill you. Dey’ll know what I’m talkin’ about.” She wiggled her gloved fingers. “Toodaloo.” And she disappeared down the stairs.

            “Oh, no,” Socks groaned at her luck in a whisper as she stood staring at an empty doorway. She turned back into the room and laid her duffel bad upon the bunk, then went to go wash her face.

            Eventually she heard a door slam downstairs and some loud-voiced talking amongst themselves. She hurried over to the bed and had just gotten onto it as a group of boys flooded into the room, most about her age.

            It took them awhile to notice her, but when they did, they were startled. Some yelled at her angrily as if she was an intruder, others said things that made her sound like a roll of money they found in the middle of the street.

            “Um… Hi?” Socks finally greeted, giving a friendly smile as if she were raising the white flag.

            To one of the boys she looked rather faint. “Whassa mattah? We ain’t gonna hoyt cha.”

            “Yeah—we’re gonna do somethin’ completely different,” another boy said slyly.

            “Ah, shaddaup, Skittery, or I’ll soak ya till you can’t see no moah,” said a third one, seemingly violent.

            “So what cha doin’ heyah?” said a forth.

            “We—“ she began to sudden, then cleared her throat. “Well, it’s sort of a strange story,” she explained. “But the gist of it is this girl I met put me in here because I had no place to stay… But I have a feeling she didn’t do it to be nice.”

            “Do ya remebah the goyl’s name who put ya in heyah?”

            Socks rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? She told me who she was every two seconds!” She paused before she said, “Riffraff McColley? She…. She said to tell Jack, Blink, and Racetrack that Sharks would drop your markers if you all don’t kill me,” she chuckled nervously.

            There was a moment that passed before the forth boy replied, “Well, I’m Racetrack.”

            “An I’m Jack,” a tall boy stated proudly. “Dis heyah’s Kid Blink, and dat’s Specs, Mush, Pie Eatah, Crutchy…” He sped through quite a few names, pointing to each one respectively, finally ending with, “An’ dat’s Spot—he’s from Brooklyn.”

            Socks gave a half smile. “Hello, nice to meet you… I think I remember her mentioning someone called ‘Spot’.”

            Spot gave a loud “Ha!” followed by, “Well, don’t believe everythin’ Riffraff McColley tells ya.”

            Socks shrugged simply. “Well, she said that you were the only newsie who could do well selling papers honestly if ya wanted to—supposable an impossible thing to do,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

            There was a loud silence. Everyone gawked at Socks as if she had said something amazing.

“Wow!” Kid Blink finally said, breaking the silence. “Riffraff gives compliments?”

            “Well, she kind of used it to make me feel like scum,” Socks put in.

            Spot gave a slight chuckle. “Then that’d be more like Riffraff. In dat case, anyway, all she says is true.”

Everyone laughed. “Awe, don’t listen ta him,” Jack said. “What’s your name, by da way?”

            Socks grinned. “You can call me Socks. Socks O’Connor.”

            “Nice ta meet cha,” Spot said and flashed a smile at her. He then turned to Jack and the others. “So, ahe we gonna play some pokah or ahe we gonna chit-chat all night?”

            There was an air of discomfort over the room as he posed the question. Nobody wanted to make Spot angry, but nobody wanted to offend the girl.

            “Well, I don’t think it would be too gentlemanly of us to gamble in front of a goyl, Spot,” Jack explained.

            Socks quickly waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t mind me. I don’t know how to play so it’ll be fun to watch,” she explained.

            “Okay,” Jack stated enthusiastically and many boys rushed to pull up a seat at the table where racetrack was quickly dealing out cards.

            Socks watched over one hand and was perfectly quiet all the while, so not to disturb their concentration. Finally, they asked if she wanted to be dealt in, but she had to shake her head. “I don’t know how to play,” she told them, looking up a little.

            Racetrack gave a gasp. He looked terrified—shocked and appalled. He had known how to play since he could remember. To him, it was as if someone had just claimed they didn’t know how to wear pants. “What?!” Race finally said when he found words, then for an encore he went on to say how horrible she was for not knowing how to play.

            It made Socks feel sort of ashamed.

            Spot rolled his eyes at Racetrack. “Ah, shaddap,” he told him. He turned to Socks. “I’ll teach ya how to play. Race—deal her in.”

She approached the table and Race dealt out cards to everyone. She smiled sweetly at Spot as he pulled over a chair close to him for her to sit in.

            They were playing for about an hour, Spot whispering tips in her ear, when the door suddenly bust open and a short figure emerged ranting like a lunatic. “Okay guys—don’ touch her! I was jus’ jokin’. Don’t hurt…” She finally looked about and saw the completely unviolent scene before her In fact—Socks was sitting close with comfort next to Spot Conlon himself. “Her,” she concluded, then began to rant and rave in the opposite direction. “What the hell ahe you doin’? You’he suppose to be givin’ this goyl a hahd time!” She wouldn’t have brought her there if they were to do anything less.

            Calmly Jack Kelly slid his cards facedown on the table in a fold. “Now, why would we do somethin’ like dat, Riff? We’he playin’ out your boyfriend’s mahkahs.”

            Riffraff looked flabbergasted. “But you guys nevah repay your mahkahs!”

            “I give you Riffraff McColley, lady and gentlemen,” Kid Blink announced to the table, pointing to Riffraff as if she ought to feel proud. “Da only woman in New York who only does nice things by accident.”

            She was given applause.

            “Sit down,” Racetrack said. “So we can deal ya in.”

            Riffraff sat down without anymore complaint. “Fine. Nothin’ else would give me more pleasah right now than to take all youh money.” She looked over at Socks and Spot. “An’ don’t you go playin’ youh ridiculously unsmooth moves on her, now. It’s disgusting,” she told Spot while pointing at Socks.

            Socks blushed and internally groaned at the rejoining of Riffraff’s company. An hour later, however, she would grin as Riffraff lost seven dollars on the table before she left.

 *           *             *

 The next day Socks was joined in company by Specs and Racetrack for selling. They were very friendly and with them giving her a tip or two, she was able to sell all of her papers by later morning. For lunch they all bought a hotdog and munched on it while sitting on a bench in the middle of a park where they talked.

            All Racetrack would talk about were the races and how he’d constantly win there an all of his adventures in gambling—some which were violent.

            Finally, Socks had the gull to say, “I’ve never been to a racetrack before, so I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re going on about.”

            Racetrack nearly choked on his hotdog. “Jesus Christ! What planet ahe you from?!”

            “Philadelphia,” Socks replied simply.

            “Oh,” Specs and Race said in unison, as if that explained everything. “Sorry.” This still didn’t keep Race from going on about how great it is to bet on the horses.

            “Why don’t we just go?” Specs snapped, bored out of his mind of Racetrack’s rambling. “It’s open in Brooklyn, ain’t it?”

            Race jumped up from his seat. “Great idea, Specs! Let’s go! Onward!” he said excitedly, running down the road.

            Socks quirked an eyebrow as she stood up, passing a look to Specs.

            “He’s like that all da time,” Specs guaranteed with a groan, and they followed the prancing Racetrack all the way to Brooklyn.

 *           *             *

             The Brooklyn racetrack was a place close to the decency of Gamala. Around every corner was someone trying to scam, steal, or cheat at something.

            Racetrack felt at home and was leading Socks trough it all, letting Specs to tag along behind and get caught in the crowds. It was then that they saw a familiar face. Spot Conlon was a few feet away, looking down at the track as he talked to a tall, large-eyed brunette boy who had a cigar in his mouth.

            Racetrack approached and greeted them. “Heyya, Spot. Hey—how’s it goin’, Rocks?” He spit in his hand and shook both boys’ hands. “What ahe you guys doin’ heyah?”

            Spot grinned. “Ah, jus’ here to collect Fool when she gets off woyk heyah soon.”

            “Oh, yeah!” Racetrack nodded.

            Spot gave an annoyed glare at Race, and Race knew why. Fool had taken a great liking to Racetrack and so when he offered to take her to the tracks with him, she had begged Spot if she could go until he agreed and then she left and came back that day with a job. A job that was nothing more than a hassle to him and the only reason he said she could keep it was when Riffraff McColley said that Fool was not only too young to work, but the job of her being a stable girl was appalling and indecent. Of course, Spot would agree to anything that Riffraff didn’t.

            Race gave a gambler’s grin in return. “A kid aftah me own heart.” He heard a horn blow then gave a look of panic. “Hold on—I gotta go place a bet!” He then sprinted off somewhere.

            Spot turned to Socks and introduced her to Rocks (non-too enthusiastically) then said, “So, had a good day on da job?” he asked, leaning his elbow on the railing before him.

            Socks smiled brightly. “I had a great day,” she replied.

            Racetrack came back as Spot said, “So, ya sold wit’ Specs and Race today?”

            Socks nodded cheerfully. “Uh-huh.”

            “And ya sold all your papes?” he continued.

            “Yep,” she smiled.

            “Dat’s surprising,” he mentioned, looking impressed.

            “Hey!” Race said, approaching the group. “I hoyd dat!”

            “No ya didn’t,” Spot assured with a threatening glare.

            “…Okay,” Race restated meekly.

            The group chatted a bit before Rocks said with his cigar hanging out of his mouth, “C’mon, Spot. We gotta get goin’ ‘fore it gets too late.”

            Race didn’t let Socks or Specs go off quite as easily as Spot and Rocks went. For another hour they were forced into making several bets and told them the entire history of horse racing. They were bored stiff.

            Fortunately, Race eventually got hungry and so they walked back to Manhattan to eat in a simple diner called ‘Tibby’s’. Starving, Specs and Socks ordered as huge a meal as they could afford. Racetrack, meanwhile, was looking around to see someone he knew around.

            Finally, he saw Jack come in. He was dressed fairly nicely for himself with clean clothes on and he had obviously just shaved and showered.

            “Thehe ya ahe!” Jack said as if in relief to all three of them. “Hey, guys, let’s get goin’! Me and a couple of the othahs want to show up at the party togethah. Wanna come wit’ us?”

            Race and Specs gave perplexed expressions and said “Huh?” in perfect unison.

            “You guys forgot?” Jack said with disgust. “How? Race, you’ve been goin’ on about it for months!”

            Racetrack’s eyes suddenly popped open. “Da meetin’!” he gasped.

            Specs spat his water across the table. “Shit! I ain’t even ready yet!”

            The boys sprung up from the table. “You an da boys go on ahead. We gotta go to the lodgin’ house for a sec’. We’ll see ya there,” Racetrack assured Jack.

            Jack sighed with disappointment, “Will do,” then shuffled to the door.

            The waiter finally placed a sandwich down in front of Socks. She smiled brightly and licked her lips and rubbed her hands together in celebration.

            Race suddenly grabbed her upper arm and yanked her away from the table and began to drag her to the door. Socks struggled against him, trying to grab a hold of her sandwich.

            “No!” she begged with a smothered breath. “I don’t want to go! I want to eat!”

            “Always time for dat latah, Socks! Come on, we gotta get ready!” Specs said, grabbing her waist and picking her up from the ground until they were out the door.

            “I hate you,” Socks squinted, eyeing Specs.

            The three ran along the dusty road and up the street to where the lodging house hid between two taller buildings and through the door.

            “Meet down here in five minutes,” Race decided once they reached the door and they all sprinted up the stairs and to their separate bunks.

            Socks looked through her duffle bag. “What kind of occasion is it? What should I wear?” she asked as she emptied all her clothes out over her book.

            “Dress nice,” came the muffled voice of Specs from the shower where he was quickly trying to lather himself.

            “How nice?”

            “Nice… But not… Not too nice. This ain’t particularly a high society gatherin’,” Specs’ voice returned.

            Socks knew just the thing. “Specs, I’m just gonna go change in the W.C., so don’t worry about seeing me change,” she stated, taking the bundle of clothes out to the water closet in the washroom.

            “Who said anythin’ about worryin’?” he shrugged, but Socks didn’t hear him.

            As she changed she threw her dirty clothes over the side of the closet and onto the floor in front of the stall. It was a tight fit in there, but it would work.

            Race and Specs was shaving in front of the mirror. “Owe,” Race said as he cut himself.

            “Don’t chop your face off,” Socks warned from the stall, where she heard the happenings from the rest of the washroom.

            “It’s pretty hard not to when you’re throwin’ your clothes at us, Socks,” Race replied, then wet a comb and began to brush his hair.

            “Specs, can you do me a favour? I forgot my hairpins on my bed. Can you go get them for me?” Socks requested. “And the nice black shoes that are on the bed, too.”

            “What do I look like? A delivery boy?” Specs retorted, rinsing his face off.

            “Yes. Now go and get it.”

            Specs laughed and ran off into the bunkroom and grabbed the requested things from the top of her bed. He rushed over and passed them to her from under the stall’s door. “Here ya go. Anything more I can get for ya, Miss Socks?”

            “Not at the moment, thank you,” Socks replied fashionably with a bit of a chuckle.

            “Good,” he answered shortly then turned to Race. “I’m gonna polish my boots real fast den I’ll meet ya downstaihs.”

            “Sounds good,” Race agreed with a nod of his head. He looked into the mirror to see the WC in back of him as he finished shaving his face. “And you bettah be ready in one minute, Socks, or ya bettah be real gorgeous,” he said impatiently then rinsed off his face and head off into the boarding room to head downstairs.

            When Socks emerged from the stall two minutes later and walked into the bunkroom, he noticed that Specs had already finished polishing his boots and was downstairs. Socks backtracked into the washroom to check her looks and hair in the mirror then walked slowly downstairs, making a game out of being late.

            Racetrack heard footsteps of someone gong down the stairs. “Well, it’s about time,” Racetrack muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

            The two boys stood with impatient stances, staring at the stairs, waiting for her to make her way down. “Come on, do you have lead in youh shoes?” Race said with an eye roll.

            She was finally visible all of the sudden, and the vision of her floored the boys. She was as gorgeous as Racetrack told her she had to be and even more so. Her long, red hair was shining in the light and was put up behind her hair in an upsweep where red curls flowed out. If she had told them at that moment how many times she had been proposed to, they would have believed her in a heartbeat. She was stunning… She didn’t look like the same person they had seen seven minutes ago.

            The Socks seven minutes ago was dirty, worn, dusty, and not in anyway made up. This new version of Socks even smelt better, like a rose perfume.

            “…Uh…” Race forgot how to speak English for a moment and pointed towards the door. “We’d bettah get going,” he eventually said.

            “Sounds good,” Socks said excitedly, heading towards the door. Once all three were outside, she asked. “So, where is this party... or… Meeting… or… Whatever it is that we’re off to?”

            “Joisey City,” Specs replied quickly.

            Socks gave a disappointed face. “Oh, no… Riffraff McColley’s gonna be there, isn’t she?” She sighed.

            Racetrack nodded. “Of coyse. Hell, she’s runnin’ da whole thing for all I know. Shahks is hostin’ it, ya see, and seein’ dat Riffraff took away his balls and put ‘em in a jah in a cupboard… And locked da cupboard,” came the crude metaphor. “I mean, he can’t find his balls anymohe…”

            “Race,” Specs hissed. “We ah in da company ob a lady…”

            “I don’…” Socks began to shrug.

            “Nah, sorry,” Racetrack apologized. “But, anyways, Riffraff runs da show, lemme jus’ stay at dat. Everybody knows it but Shahks, but fortunately for him, she’s good at runnin’ da show. Pisses Spot Conlon off somethin’ awful, too.”

            “She does it on purpose,” Specs put in.

            “Right. And Spot ticks her off all da time…” Race mentioned.

            “He does it on purpose,” Specs added.

            “Right. Riffraff actually doesn’t bothah a lot a’ people. She takes some gettin’ used to, but she’s da goyl ta have on youh side. She’ll help ya when you get dealt a bad hand.”

            “She’s a jerk,” Socks mentioned, shaking her head. “The only reason she put me in the lodging house with you guys is because she thought you guys would kill me.”

            “No she didn’t. You give her fah too much credit. If she wanted you dead, you’d be dead right now. I think she just doesn’t want to sound like a nice person. Not good for her reputation of bein’ a hahd ass.”

            There was a long pause of conversation.

            “Wanna take my ahm?” Specs and Race said suddenly, crooking their elbows to her. They looked at each other in surprise, then glared at each other, then crooked their arms out closer to her.

            Socks looked at her options. “Sure,” she finally said with a grin, looping both her arms around their elbows, who walked on opposite sides of her.

            They both looked quite satisfied.

            They boys eventually reached the equally dirty city of New Jersey, where they dragged Socks into the side door of an old, run down bar that looked from the outside as if it was no longer looking for customers, and haven’t been for the last few years—and it hadn’t. There were people there, nonetheless, who made a heavy blast of sound upon the opening of the heavy, wooden door.

            Riffraff scuttled by as they entered, obviously not noticing them at all. They noticed, at that none, that Manhattan as well as other groups from random parts of New York City was being civil to the Jersey boys, mingling amongst everyone else happily. This was a rare event since it was very rare to come upon a New Yorker and a New Jersian that could be in the same room for two seconds without spitting on each other’s shoes.

            But for a diverse party as it was, there wasn’t too a grand number of people there; perhaps just over two hundred, including a random cow that mooed merrily on the side of the room.  

            Racetrack’s eyes didn’t even have to scan the room before he saw a round table off in a corner with many boys with serious expressions seated around it, holding cards in their hands. “Gotta go!” he said, then practically ran over Socks as he fleeted over to the table.

            All sorts of people walked up, gibing Specs a load greeting or a handshake right away. “Heyya, Specs! How’s it goin?!” they would say. Even the couple of boys that did know Socks didn’t actually recognize her. She would throw in a polite ‘hello’, and they would recognize the voice, and it would floor them. They began to hover around Specs and his “pretty friend” like flies at a picnic.

            Specs obviously kept forgetting how pretty Socks looked. Every time he’d look over, he’d almost think he had a complete stranger on his arm, and wanted to say something like, ‘wow’, but that would be inappropriate, so instead he simply smiled and cocked his head proudly to the side.

            He walked about the room, showing her off, and every boy he introduced her to gave Specs a look that clearly said, “There’s no way that she’s with you,” of which Specs would just shoot a superior glance.

            Socks was amused by this whole escapade.

            Spot Conlon, being the discerning man that he was, noticed a commotion across the room where someone was getting a lot of attention, and went over to investigate like a curious alley cat. He was surprised at the scene he saw. Many sullen boys standing just a few feet away from his good friend Specs who amazingly had a beautiful, red-haired girl on his arm. This surprised Spot since he was usually the lady’s man—not Specs. Never Specs.

            He looked about to see if hell had indeed frozen over, then decided that he would know this unmistakably alluring lady.

            “Hey, Specs,” Spot said, smoothly taking a long step forward and handing his most “charming” grin over to Socks. “May I have da pleasure of meetin’ this angel?” He slowly took her hand and bent down to kiss it.

            Socks looked amused and flattered for a moment, but managed to hide it before anyone noticed.

            She gracefully curtsied and said in a duchess-like tone, “My name is Lillian O’Connor. Pleased to meet you.” She was finally given her hand back, but before he had a chance to reply, she interjected, “But most of my friends around here call me…” She paused for dramatic affect. “Socks.”

            She smirked at him and passed him a wink, as he was so dumbfounded that he forgot how to close his mouth. When he finally came back to his senses, the only thing he was able to utter with his shocked tongue was “Woah! You clean up good, kid…” He paused unsurely. “I mean, miss.” He paused, again unsure. “I mean Lillian. I mean Socks,” he concluded with as much dignity as he could salvage. Quickly he closed his mouth and looked her over again.

            She looked humoured at his reaction and turned to Specs, patting him on his arm, “Excuse me, Specs, I’m going to step outside for a moment.” She untwined her arm from Specs and began to walk towards the door that Race and he had initially dragged her through.

            Spot was taken aback, but Spot wasn’t a fool. Socks was gorgeous and pleasant to have a conversation with—a combination which acted as enough motivation for him to wink mischievously at Specs and then he smoothly followed her out.

            Specs closed his mouth that he noticed had been gaped wide open for the last three seconds since Spot winked at him. Specs uttered a quiet obscenity then bowed his head to the group surrounding him, all of which had ‘I told you so’ expressions on their faces.

            Riffraff was not one who appreciated random objects, especially not as much as one of her more “hickish” cousins, who seemed to be best friends with his pet cow.

            “You anger me!” she shouted with exasperation at the stickly boy before her. “Why da hell did ya bring the cow to the meetin’?”

            The thin figure with straw-like hair shrugged and smirked simply, “I like the cow.”

            “Arghh!” she huffed. “You hick!” She paused and looked at the cow that looked at her with a moo. She shook her head again and looked back at that particular cousin. “All right—but if it shits on my flooh, I will clean it up wit’ youh dead body,” she threatened, not at all joking.

            “All right!” the boy grinned stupidly as if she didn’t even threaten him or wasn’t at the moment grinding her teeth at him. He turned and strolled up to the cow and patted it.

            Riffraff slapped her hand onto her forehead. “Oye,” she groaned before yet another cousin with his crazy propositions approached her.

            Rocks McMicheals was not his brother, and that was to put it lightly. Sloshed again and with a whiskey in hand, he was trying to look for his niece, who was playing a very bad-timed game of hide-and-seek. He could barely see strait by now and was talking to a cow.

            “And so, den da guy said to me, ‘Peas an’ carrots!’” He began to laugh heartily. “Hehehe… Not really. It’s a joke. Cweever joke, ob couhse…” he said, patting the cow. “It’s funny, ain’t it?”

            “Moo,” said the random cow.

            “You’re right… I should find her,” he sighed then began to look about the room.

            “Teehehe…” the little girl giggled as she saw Rocks look around for her again. She looked for a clever hiding spot. Finally, she looked and saw a small grouping of people, one she recognized as her Godmother’s boyfriend, Sharks. He was talking to a boy who was holding the hand of a beautiful brunette girl with a long, flowing dress that swooshed about the floor:

            The perfect hiding spot.

            She skulked across the room sneakily, keeping low to the ground and trying to keep her steps quiet and breathing silently. She crouched down behind the girl, then slid underneath her skirts, away from her legs so the older girl would never notice her presence. She sat down on the ground and hugged her knees and bit her lip, giggling to herself, listening to the area around her.

            “So, dat t’ing we were talkin’ about… Is all undah control, right?”

            “Marian gots it all set, Shahks,” another boy’s voice replied with a whisper. “Spot wont nevah see it commin’. Hell, da pigs know he’s right heyah at dis very moment. So, I’m afraid, Shahks, dat Conlon will have to make a quick exit from youh pahty.”

            “Sounds good to me,” the first voice replied. “I owe ya one, Marian. Hey, Spades, kiss youh goyl foh me. She’s done good.”

            A feminine voice from directly above the hidden five-year-old as ‘Marian’ was given a kiss and giggled afterwards. “It wasn’t a problem. I’m surprised Renny wouldn’t do it when you asked.”

            “I… uh… Didn’t.” the voice replied in a whisper. “She doesn’t know. She hates Spot, but, not as much as ta send him to jail, I don’t think.” Suddenly the same voice made a chuckle. “Dis is gonna be great. Spot wont nevah see it commin’!”

            Fool gasped and nearly jumped up when she heard Spot was in trouble. ‘Marian’ obviously felt it and shrieked and jumped away from where she stood, leaving the little girl exposed. Marian screamed and fainted into what seemed to be her boyfriend’s arms.

            Sharks gave a panicked look. “Shit! Zoey!” He came toward her. “C’mere!” He quickly swung down and grabbed Fool by the arm. Fool looked panicked as he barked, “What da hell ah you doin’?!”

            “I…I… I was…” she stuttered.

            He gave a suspicious glance at Fool. “How long where you undah deyah?”

            “I wasn’t! I was just runnin’ an’… An’… I bumped inta her!” she lied, pointing at the fainted girl, whose boyfriend was carrying her quickly over to a sofa a few feet away.

            Sharks was quick to believe her but continued to hiss at the child. “What does youh Godmothah keep tellin’ you? No runnin’ inside! Doesn’t she tell you dat?!”

            Fool nodded, biting her lip. “Uh-huh.”

            “I t’ought so!” He put a hand over his eyes as if to stop a very bad headache. “When Marian comes to, I want you to apologize to ‘er, you got me?” He made sure she nodded in agreement then let go of her. “So you’re not gonna fool around anymohe tonight?” he assured.

            “Nu-huh, Uncle Shahks,” replied the girl.

            Sharks gave a grin and rubbed the child’s head. “Now, go play, ya lil’ glowwoym,” and he pushed her lightly away, again totally composed.

            She scampered away, her eyes darting wildly around the room for a trace of Spot so to warn him. All she saw was her uncle getting back into a conversation with the random cow as he spilt beer all over it.

            As soon as letting go of the orphaned little urchin, Sharks straitened himself up and checked up on Spades and his girlfriend, who was still out cold. “Dis happens all da time,” Spades said simply, so Sharks stopped worrying and looked around the room for a certain girl to make sexual connotations with, namely Riffraff.

It was easy to find her because, little did she know this, but Rathnait “Riffraff” McColley was a rather loud individual. He saw her from a distance jabbering away at one of her many, many cousins.

“Ahe you suah dat Shahks would do it? Maybe you ought to ask him….” the cousin, Badger, suggested to Riffraff as he was obviously making some sort of request.

Riffraff snorted, rolling her eyes. “I don’t have to ask Shahks foh anything,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Shahks I got all figured out. He does whats I tell him to.” Her cousin laughed and nodded in agreement, as what she said was obvious, and he wouldn’t actually see Sharks for another three seconds.

“Shahky boy I’se gots undah me lil’ fingah,” Riffraff went on pridefully, enjoying her feministic boasting. “When I say jump, he jumps; when I say move, he moves.” While she was going on she saw Badger’s eyes widen with fear. “When I say go he says ‘how fah?’ and—he’s standin’ right behind me, ain’t he?”

Badger nodded. Indeed, Sharks was right behind her, and was not looking happy at all. His arms were crossed and his eyes held a frightening glare.

Riffraff pursed her lips, nodded, then spun around with an angelic look upon her face. “Hey, Honey,” she greeted both sweet and cheerfully with a grin.

The room seemed quieter—and the reason for this was because everybody within Riffraff’s listening distance (which consisted of quite a few people) was listening to the situation and looking over to see what Sharks would do next. Most of the men in the room knew that they’d beat the woman where she stood until she didn’t know what day it was or until she showed a little respect.

Sharks would never strike a woman in public—especially when he was this angry because he could have probably broken her nose in one shot, easy. “We gotta have a discussion, now,” he growled as he gruffly grabbed Riffraff’s arm and pulled her over to the stairway that led to their bedroom, then let it be visible as he pulled her up the stairs and pushed her through one of the doors, slamming it behind them.

Needless to say, Sharks wasn’t as sexually driven as before, so all means of fun were out of the picture.

            “Is that what you think of me?!” Sharks roared. He was definitely angrier towards her than he ever was in the couple of years Riffraff had lived with him.

She accepted the fact that she was in the ‘dog house’. “No, no, honey,” she replied softly and smoothly, daringly rubbing his muscular forearm. “That was just… Talk.”

He would have none of her touching and petting and just let her get out of this that way. He grabbed the hands that were touching his arms and clutched them tightly in his own hands. “It wasn’t talk that should be said behind my back,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Or even in front of me. Not from you!”

She tried to tug her hurting hands away, and walk backwards, but the more she walked backwards the more he walked forwards, never letting her go. “Let go of me!” she ordered strongly.

“I will not have anyone under my roof think of me like that, Renny. Do you undahstand me?” he continued to spit forcefully, pulling her toward him and making her walk backwards.

“Yes!” she shouted back, trying to snatch her hands back, hoping words would save her.

“You DON’T! I should have listened to Lenny and Ryan when they told me dat you were pullin’ da wool ovah my eyes. I didn’t believe a word dey said. I shoulda, but I didn’t,” he stated. Lenny and Ryan were his brothers, brothers that Renny never liked. “You DECEIVED me!” He pushed her up against the wall. “Did you think I was an IDIOT? HUH?”

She was insulted by the way she was being treated, and her anger could have been shot out a gun. “I didn’t think! I knew!” she screamed into his face. “I’m da reason people respect you, Shahks. You can’t lead nothin’! You need me, you low down moronic bum!”

           He bit his lip angrily and balled up his fists and flung his arm, only to hit the intended target of the wall by Riffraff’s face. He was so reared up it didn’t even hurt. “You ahe da biggest asshole I know. You’re mean, you’he stubborn and you’he SELFISH!” he yelled back at her so it echoed off the walls. “Renny, you may be really upset that you weren’t born with a penis, but you weren’t. You are a WOMAN. A wench of one, but you ahe.”

            She rolled her eyes, obviously actually angry at not having a penis. “Well, if it wasn’t for dis woman, you would be miserable and lonely! I’m what keeps dis gang togethah! It’s me they listen to!” She was suddenly slapped in the face. Not as hard as she could have been, but it left a numbing pain. It was a warning blow, she used to get them all the time from her father.

            “It’s me who dey answah to! And believe me,” he added. “Dey wont be listenin’ to you anymoah.”

            “You blind sack of—”

            The warning was over, and before she could even finish, Sharks grabbed her and pushed her onto the bed, quickly taking off his belt. “That’s it!” he snapped as the leather whizzed through the loops of his trousers. “I’ve had enough of you and youh mouth!” He bent the belt in his hand. “Maybe this’ll make you QUIET!” he strained, raising the strap over his head. Riffraff flinched with fright—not expecting to cross the line like this. The strap whizzed through the air—and stopped.

            Riffraff opened one eye.

            “I know what you’ll hate even moah,” he stated, throwing the belt onto the bed next to her. “You’re not doin’ da speech anymoah. I am. You won’t come down during it. Don’t even dare.” He walked away, his words final.

            Riffraff’s jaw dropped open. That was just too awful to bear. “No!” she cried as if in pain. “Can’t you just beat me?” she begged desperately.

            “I’ll be back when it’s done,” he promised with extreme sternness before stomping out the door and slamming it behind him.

            Riffraff slumped down on her bed. Her night was officially spoilt.

 *           *             *

             Socks, unaware that Spot was following her, let out a strain of laughter, then a sigh. Now relived of her laughter, she turned around to head back in, only to find herself almost running into Spot Conlon, who was standing right behind her. His jaw was set, but his eyes danced with mischief.

            Socks nearly jumped five feet in the air, but instead gasped, making an “acking” noise.

            “Did I scare ya?” Spot asked, sounding hopeful as if he had meant to frighten her.

            Socks blushed a bit and lied. “No…” She paused. “Of course not!” Her eyes drifted guilefully to the side for a moment, then gave a charming smile.

            “What ahe ya doin’ out heyah?” he asked with a playful and suspicious look on his face.

            She looked at him coyly and said, “I was just getting a little fresh air.”

            He grinned at her. “Well, ahe ya done getting’ your ‘fresh air’ yet?” He gave a small chuckle. “I think dey’s gonna staht soon.”

            He waited for her to do something.

            She seemed to be waiting for him to do something.

            His mind raced back to something he saw an old gentleman once do. He bowed and crooked his arm out to her, and though it was not as graceful as Racetrack’s gesture, it certainly was charming.

            She curtseyed to him, took his arm with a dazzling smile, and they entered the room together.

            The meeting was indeed about to begin, and Sharks began to prepare himself. Everyone else was far less stressed than he was, of course, except for Fool, who was having lots of trouble in the process of finding Spot—and fast.

            Sharks cleared his throat and straitened his collar smartly, even undid another button as if it would help him breath better. He was a leader after all, or he was once, and will be again, so he figured he could do the speech. He revved himself up and tried to get people’s attention by whistling and shouting, but that wouldn’t work, nobody could see him, really, and the room’s acoustics were awful. He looked at a table next to him, and promptly got an idea. He got up on the chair then onto the table in two steps and put his fingers around his lips and blew a loud whistle.

            Everyone instantly silenced and looked up at the boy who was so much taller than the rest as the meeting began to begin. Sharks decided to act very professionally about it and rubbed his hands together as the room’s buzzing ceased into utter silence. “I’m sorry dat Riffraff is unable to make dis speech, but I will try to covah all da topics dat she would have. You know, tell you why you’re here.” The room gave a bit of a chuckle. “First of all, I would like to thank you all for comin’…”

            There was a shattering crash coming from an upstairs bedroom. Everyone looked up with confusion, including him, but he decided to ignore his love’s tantrum, pursed his lips, and went on speaking.

 *           *             *

             Spot exhaled. “Great speech, eh?” Spot nodded to Socks afterward. His breath had been really taken away by it all, even though he hated Sharks.

            Socks was still silent over it, but she forced herself to snap out of it. “Oh, yes,” Socks agreed promptly, nodding her head. “It was very inspiring.” She wasn’t quite sure of what to make of it.

            But either way,  it spurred on a two hour long conversation between the two.

            Fool finally found Spot, talking to a pretty redheaded girl. One of the more pretty ones she had seen him talk to. She gave a sigh of relief and sprinted up to him.

            “Spot! Spot!” she interrupted; taking attention away from any charming remark Spot was oozing to Socks.

            Spot looked in the direction of the little voice and was about to yell at the small figure who knew so well about interrupting and how he absolutely wont have it, when Socks began to hush about the little girl standing in front of them.

            “Why, who is this adorable little girl?” she said in a tone that made Spot sick to his stomach.

            The little girl got a big grin on her face and said back proudly, “My name’s Fo-!”

            Spot grabbed the child and pulled her to him by the mouth as if she said something immensely wrong, as she had. (It was as if someone naming their kid ‘Idiot’. “My name’s Idiot!”) He gave a nervous laugh. “Fool? Fool? Haha!.. That’s not your name! Such a joker! It’s Zoey Walker,” he corrected with an artificial laugh. “Kids, where do ‘ey pick dis stuff up?”

            “But you call me it all da time!” Fool replied innocently as Spot let go of her face.

            “Shut up, Fool,” he muttered sternly.

            Socks rolled her eyes humorously at Spot, who gave her a smirk, and she put her hands on her knees and bent down a bit. “Well, ‘Fool’ seems like a very inappropriate name for a darling like you! They should call you ‘precious’.”

            Spot was thoroughly discussed by this time, and decided that Fool had to go if he was going to win Socks over. “Oh… Uh, Fool,” he said in a slightly irritated voice. “I think—uh—Racetrack was lookin’ for ya. He said he had a peppahmint stick ‘r somethin’ for ya.”

            Fool immediately got an excited look in her eyes, waved at Spot and her new friend whose name she did not yet know, and trotted off to find Racetrack and her peppermint stick. She had totally forgotten why she wanted to talk to Spot in the first place. Spot turned back to Socks and saw that she was amused again.

            “So, Spot,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a cute kid sister?”

            Somehow he felt relieved that he didn’t have to tell her the whole story now. “I was—uh—savin’ it fer a surprise.” As he said this, he suavely slid his arm around her waist. She let him do it, for somehow she was more at ease around him after just a few hours than she had been after three months with Albert.

            Somehow, as she thought of the difference between Spot and Albert, Spot had moved her nearer to the wall and now had both his arms wrapped around her waist. She looked up into his eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about them, almost as if she had seen them in a dream. She put her hands up on his shoulders and he leaned in and kissed her.

            Suddenly, a gasp came over the room and a group of large men in police uniforms entered. Spot looked hesitant as to what he should do, but decided to stay put, being that he could not think of anything he had done of late.

            The police obviously were not thinking the same things. It didn’t take long for them to know which one was Spot Conlon; one of the policemen already seemed to know. “You’re the one known as Spot Conlon?” one asked in a thick Irish accent.

            Spot tried not to look like he was worried, which he was. “Yeah?” he asked as if he was annoyed for being interrupted.

            “We are placin’ you under arrest, lad. Mind goin’ peacefully fer us?”

            Spot looked confused, this he did not hide. But, since he was innocent of whatever he was about to be charged for, he figured he was safe. Besides… Where would he run? Spot gave Socks a dutiful glance then looked at the police and nodded. “What is dis about?” he finally requested.

            “We’ll tell ya doon at da station,” the policeman assured. “Put out your hands.”

            Spot did so, and handcuffs were immediately snapped onto his wrists. He gave Socks a look, trying to make some sort of a joke he said, “Dis doesn’t happen all da time.” He gave a wink, then was yanked towards the door. He moved respectfully. He turned to the cops; “I still don’t know what dis is about,” he told them, particularly the one that had arrested him.

            “Uncle Spot! Uncle Spot!” Fool said, scampering away from Racetrack, who was so dumbfounded by everything that his cigar was sliding out of his mouth. She wrapped her arms around Spot’s leg trying to stop his movement. “Don’t let dem pigs take you away! I gotta tell you somethin’!” she cried.

            Spot was about to say something, but a police officer quickly began to pry the child off of Spot’s leg, who was annoyed about being called a pig. “C’mon, lassie, get—OUCH!” Suddenly the police officer grabbed his hand tightly. “She bit me!”

            “And I’ll bite you again, you PIGS! You… BULLS! You… You… BASTAHDS IN BLUE!” the little girl snapped at them. She was obviously about five years old and tiny, and it was quite obvious that everything she said was a repeat of things she had heard. “Let ‘im go!”

            The room went into quite a ruckus. Before they had all been kind of numbed, but now some voiced their confusion, but nobody acted. Another police officer tried to grab her away. “Maybe we ought to take this one down as well!” he threatened after he had to narrowly escape getting bit on the nose.

            Sharks immediately stepped out, figuring that Rocks wasn’t going to do anything to save his niece since a few minutes before the meeting some Jersey boys had to get him off a table (where he was beginning to strip down while singing a drinking song he had just made up that no one could understand the words to, even though the phrase ‘Oh, I’m in love with a cow’ was part of the main verse), and led him up to one of the bedrooms, since he passed out as soon as he had hit the staircase. Riffraff was upstairs making sure he’d have something other then the bed sheets to throw up on when he woke up, as well as a cold rag for his head. “No need, Officer. She’s wit’ me. Sorry about that,” he said. “I tell ya; kids! Where do dey pick up dese phrases?” he said with a nervous chuckle, since he was one of the benefactors of her wonderful language.

            Sharks quickly put his arms around the child’s waist and pulled her off, since he knew that she wouldn’t dare bite him. She struggled against Sharks by swinging her arms wildly and kicking her legs while she tried to put her arms out to get to Spot again. “Le’ go of me!” the girl ordered smotheredly.

            “Are you crazy?!” Sharks said, trying to twist the child’s arms behind her back to hold her.

            “Le’ go! Le’ me go!” She then began to screech when the twisting began to hurt.

            “Hey! You let go off her, you bastahd!” Spot shouted at Sharks, beginning to resist the officers and trying to pull himself towards Sharks as if he could have punched Sharks out even with no hands, but the cops held him steady. It became a whole struggle. “Le’ go of me, you pigs!” Spot shouted at his captures, his head wild up now.

            A Jersey boy named Blue Jay (who also happened to be Riffraff’s cousin) quickly came up to aid Shark’s, who was his best friend, burden and quickly hauled the wild thing up the stairs and into a room in which he quickly locked.

            Finally, the parade of chaos was almost gone, and the party of people was buzzing with commotion. “What’s gotten inta dat kid?” Sharks said out loud with a shake of his head, walking through the crowed. Nobody saw he and Spade exchange smiles or the quick handshake, but it certainly took place.

            Socks watched as the police dragged Spot off to their carriage. She was stunned. What had he done? Socks didn’t know what to do. She walked outside and plopped down onto a nearby crate. Specs came out quietly and sat next to her, with Racetrack following close after.

            “So, ah, bad thing dat happened ta Spot, eh?” Specs said, in attempt to start conversation.

            “Yeah…” Socks replied, sounding dazed.

            “Why don’t we go in a’ help Riffraff clean up, Specs?” Racetrack suggested, feeling the discomfort in the air. Specs looked at Socks, who was staring at the ground as if in deep thought, and nodded. The two walked quickly inside, leaving Socks to her thoughts. Not long after Race and Specs left, Socks heard laughter from just inside the door.

            “Woiked like a chahm, didn’ it, Shahks!” said one of the voices with a guffaw.

            “Yeah, Conlon nevah saw it comin’!” another voice, which Socks knew as Sharks’, laughed.

            “What’d ya pin on ‘em?” a third voice asked loudly.

            “Shaddap! Ya want da whole woild ta know dat we framed Conlon?” Sharks reprimanded in a sharp whisper.

            Socks was appalled. She got up as quietly as she could from the crate and walked quickly over to the side door. Just as she reached it, Race and Specs walked out, talking quietly.

            “Heya, Socks!” Specs enthused when he saw Socks. Socks smiled at him, slightly startled. “Ya ready ta go back?” he lacked. She nodded and Specs crooked an arm for her again.

 *           *             *

             Socks sat on her bed in the lodging house with a composed look on her face. Though the others in the room were deceived by this guise of non-chalance, her mind was very far from it.

            ‘What am I to do? He’s in jail! And for what? Nothing! Nothing! What on earth can I do, though? Break him out? Oh, right, Lily. You can’t do that, it’s against the law! But he didn’t do anything wrong! Okay, suppose you got someone to help you? Specs and Race? No, they’re ninnies. They wouldn’t be any help. Peppermint? No, she wouldn’t be much help either. Who else is there?’ She flopped onto her back and scowled. The only other person she knew was Riffraff McColley, who was not by any means her favourite person. She didn’t know what else to do. Spot was innocent, and she knew that. She made up her mind to go and get Riffraff’s help. She sat up quickly and hit her head on the bunk above.

            “Owe!” she exclaimed, attracting the attention of some of the others in the room. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, rubbing her head and standing up. She walked out of the bunkroom and down the stairs then out the door. She went, hurrying to Jersey City where she knew she would find Riffraff.

 *           *             * 

            Riffraff was sitting at the desk in the room, which she and Sharks shared, composing a new piece for her next job when there came a knock at the door.

            “Whaddayawant?” she muttered, and the door opened and Socks walked in and began talking immediately, not even letting Riffraff speak against her unwelcome entrance.

            “Alright, Spot is in jail and you know that, but what I don’t think you know is that he was framed! So, we need to do something about it.” Riffraff gawked at her, but realized Socks was not going to stop talking, so she turned back to her music. “So what are we suppose to do? Clearly we can’t just walk in there and say ‘let him out, he’s innocent,’ but what are we going to do? Break him out? How would we do it? No! We can’t do it! It’s against the law! But now he means something to me… At least I think he does… I mean, I don’t know… Well, I do know, just not sure…” Socks paced about the room, rattling on and on for nearly an hour while Riffraff scribbled away at her desk.

            Socks sighed as if she were letting a huge burden off her chest. “What should we do?” She asked Riffraff, whom up to that time had not uttered a word.

            She turned towards Socks and looked at her hard in the face. “Did you say something?” she asked.

            Socks gaped at her and without a word, took her hand and whapped Riffraff in the back of the head.

            Riffraff looked dazed about it for a second, then she looked furious. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?!” Riffraff said, trying to look intimidating, even though she was nearly a head shorter than Socks.

            “Absolutely nothing,” Socks said, keeping a cool composure and crossing her arms across her chest.

            “Precisely!” Riffraff said as if ‘precisely’ was a pretty bad thing and sat back down in her chair. She looked much more composed as she shuffled through her music, making it into a nice stack, then placing it on the corner of her desk. “Now, what were you babbling on about for the last hour?”

            “Spot’s innocent. He was framed,” Socks replied with exasperation.

            Riffraff shrugged. “Yeah. Got that part. What else?”

            Socks gave an expression as if Riffraff was rude for asking. “Well, did you know or didn’t you?” Socks said.

            Riffraff shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t know. I don’t plan for the police to come and crash my parties,” she stated logically. “Nor do I think he’s at all innocent. He’s not the innocent type.”

            “So, you didn’t know that Sharks was behind it all?” Socks asked, looking cocky like she had found an opening for passage.

            Riffraff rolled her eyes. “Sharks isn’t. You see, everything Sharks does goes through me. What? You think Sharks would just plan this big conspiracy without even lettin’ me know?”

            “Yes.” Socks looked very stone-faced about it. “I heard him talking last night outside when Spot was arrested. He said so…”

            Riffraff snorted. “You heard. You had too much beer, Dearie, because Shahks wouldn’ have done it. He knows I don’t want Spot touched even though I hate his guts and hope when he dies he goes to hell where he’s screwed on hot coals for all eternity,” she said, taking a deep breath afterwards. “So, he wouldn’t. Just out of respect for my wishes,” she said, sounding so sure. “You’re wrong.”

            “I’m tellin’ you, he—” there was suddenly a knock on the door.

            “What?!” Riffraff replied to the knocking.

            The door opened and Shark’s face appeared. “Zoey wants to see you,” he turned his head and opened the door wider. “You can go in, kiddo,” he said softly to something behind him.

            Fool suddenly stomped high-nosed into the room, pushing Sharks rudely out of her way and giving him a nasty look. She waited a minute then snapped at Sharks, who was respectively at least four times the child’s size, “Close the door!”

            Sharks looked down at the child with a furrowed brow. “What do you say?” he grilled.

            “Now!” Fool said, stomping her foot and looking as hostile as she could.

            Sharks looked at Riffraff. “See what you’ve taught ‘er?” he said gruffly then slammed the door behind him.

            As soon as the door slammed, Fool’s expression almost completely changed and she ran to Riffraff’s chair and began hugging her tightly. “Riffraff! Riffraff! Shahks—I heard—last night—Rocks was—Shahks said—Shahks did…” The little girl ranted without any full thoughts.

            Riffraff chuckled and pushed Fool back a bit. “Zoey—go sit. Take a deep breath,” she ordered.

            Fool gave a look of protest, “But—”

            Zoey grinned and said lightly. “Zoey—I’m not going to listen to another word until you’re sitting down next to Socks.”

            Fool quickly sat down next to Socks. “Now can I tell you?” Fool sighed.

            “Yes.” Riffraff crossed her hands in her lap.

            “Okay—well, last night, I was playing hide-and-seek with Rocks, and I found this great hiding place, and there I heard Shahks talking to… You know… Um… Uh… Da guy wit’ da yellow hair and freckles an’ big mouth… He’s from Uptown…” She bit her lip. “I can’t remembah his name but Spot calls him a fu—”

            “Yes,” replied Riffraff. “Spades. I got it.”

            “Yeah! Spades! And Spades said dat his goylfriend did somethin’ ta get Spot in trouble with da bulls an’… an’ Sharks knew about it! He said so! It was all Shahks idea an’ he was laughin’ an’ he said dat Spot didn’ see it commin’ an’ den Spot got arrested!”

            Socks stood up excitedly. “See? I told you so. Sharks was behind it all.” She looked quite proud of herself.

            Riffraff looked furious and stood from her chair, beginning to pace the room. “Alright. Maybe he was.” She pursed her lips. “Da bum! I’ll show him! Dis was even before our fight last night. Dis is mutiny!” She looked at Socks and said, “We’re gettin’ Spot outtah theyah. He ain’t suppose ta be, and Shahks ain’t ta know of my plans dis time!” She looked at Fool and said, “Zoey, don’t tell anyone what you told me, you got it? Not a word. And don’t tell ANYBODY that I’m gonna do somethin’ about it. Do you understand?”

            Fool nodded, looking pleased with Riffraff. “Uh-huh. So you’re gonna save Spot?”

            “I’ll do my best,” Riffraff promised. “But if I do—don’t tell NOBODY it was me.”

            “I wont!” She stood up and hugged Riffraff tightly. “Thanks Riffraff! I knew you’d do somethin’!” She let go and started to bounce on her toes.

            As Riffraff grinned, the door opened and Sharks came into the room.

            Fool stopped being excited and for a moment, the whole room looked at him darkly. “What do you want?” the little girl asked snottily, putting her hands on her hips, looking just like Riffraff when she was annoyed.

            “Well,” he said, crossing his arms curtly across his chest. “If you say one nice word to me, what I want to do is give you a peppahmint stick,” he bribed. “And den I want to take your Godmothah out ta lunch, if dat’s okay wit’ you.”

            Fool’s mean expression towards Sharks changed just as soon as he had mentioned the name of a candy. “Where’s da candy?” she asked excitedly.

            “Nuh-uh. Nice word first,” he said with a shake of his head.

            Fool scampered up and wrapped her arms around Sharks’ leg, knowing how to get what she wanted, forgetting conveniently how mad she was. “I love you, Uncle Sharks.”

Sharks blushed and ruffled Fool’s hair through her cap. “Awe… Okay. I’ll show ya where it is in a second.” He turned to Riffraff and said, “Renny, will ya be ready in a half houh?”

            “I should be,” Renny replied through a fake smile.

            Sharks smiled and nodded then walked out of the room with a five-year-old still weighing down one of his legs.

            The door shut behind him and Riffraff sighed. “Dat kid’s a genius. Reminds me of me,” Riffraff said proudly.

            Socks looked thoroughly confused. “So that’s why do you didn’t believe me.”

            Riffraff turned to Socks and said, “I gotta get ready, Socks, and I gotta think of a plan. Meet me on the cornah of 23^rd street at eleven o’clock tanight.”

            Socks grinned and nodded. “With bells on.”

            Riffraff quirked an eyebrow. “Bells might be a bad idea for what we might do.”

            “It was an express—” Socks began to explain, shrugging her shoulders.

            “No bells!” Riffraff snapped, then showed Socks the door.

 *           *             *

             The moon was high in the dark New York sky and Riffraff’s head was comfortably bowed into Sharks’ chest, who had his arms wrapped around her as he slept with a content look on his face.

            She reached one of her arms in back of her and felt around for the bed desk, where she grabbed Sharks’ gold watch and brought it over to her nose, where she could see it in the moonlight.

            It was a quarter until eleven.

            Riffraff silently sighed and propped her head up and slowly tried to crawl backwards. She tried desperately not to wake him up, for if she did, she would have to explain herself. As she got out of his arms and set herself on the floor, she saw his arms begin to move, as if he was about to close about her. Quickly, she grabbed a pillow and put it between his arms, where they stopped. She gave a sigh for the close call.

            She then fell from the bed with a THUMP!

            Quickly she got to her knees and looked to see if Sharks had awoken, but he simply twitched his nose and sighed and continued to dream.

            Blindly in the dark Riffraff tried to gather up her clothing from her trunk, but could barely see what she was getting, but she didn’t care within five minutes of looking. She had to get out to 23^rd street and she wasn’t going naked. She pulled whatever she found first and the rope that was hiding at the bottom.

            She buttoned up the last of her clothing and grabbed her coat from the peg on the wall, and the peg fell to the floor with the lightest of ‘ping’s. Riffraff didn’t even notice it and put her hand around the doorknob.

            “Renny, where are you off to?” said a sleepy voice behind her.

            Riffraff turned around, looking like a deer in a headlight. “You’re dreaming, Honey, I’m not going anywhere,” she said smoothly.

            “Oh,” he yawned and then said “okay, good” and went back to sleep.

            Riffraff grinned and opened the door and flew down the stairs, out the door, the down the street, running all the while. She turned the corner to 23^rd street and THUMP!

            She had run into somebody and was now, again, on the ground, looking into the eyes of a blonde girl with dark blue eyes as seen from the near-by lamppost who was looking quite dazed.

            “Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” Riffraff shouted.

            “Me? You’re the one that rounded the corner like a bat outta hell!” the blonde shouted back, just as loudly. The blonde looked around. “What’s the rope for?” she asked, dragging herself off the ground.

            “Part of a lynch mob for people that knock me ovah,” Riffraff said, standing with her intimidating stance.

            The blonde looked down at her like she was crazy. “You know,” she said simply. “You’re small. If you’re trying to intimidate me, I just want to say that it’s not working.” She quirked an eyebrow.

            “Oh, shut up, you nit,” Riffraff said, just before Socks approached and looked over the scene.

            “You’re late,” Socks said to Riffraff, then looked over to the blonde. “She knock you over?” She asked the blonde, pointing to Riffraff.

            “Yeah,” the blonde answered.

            “She does that a lot.”

            “You shut up, too,” Riffraff ordered Socks, beginning to blush.

            “So, why are you late?”

            “I have a boyfriend that ain’t a jailbird. That’s what kept me,” Riffraff replied snootily to Socks.

            “Yeah, he spends too much time framing people to do anything against the law,” Socks retorted, making an intimidating stance of her own.

            “Hmm… I shouldn’t ask,” the blonde decided out loud. Suddenly she had a thought and started laughing. “So, what? The rope’s for breaking someone out of jail?” the blonde chuckled.

            Riffraff looked coolly at the blonde. “Yes.”

            The blonde stopped laughing. “You are? I was only joking. How is the rope gonna help you get out of prison?” she asked curiously.

            “…A friend of mine said it helps,” Riffraff replied, feeling stupid all of the sudden.

            “It may help if you want to get in, but not if you want to get out again,” the blonde replied, her eyebrow quirked all the while.

            “Well, we didn’t ask for your advice,” Riffraff said, tilting up her nose.

            “Actually, I would like it. Any ideas?” Socks asked this stranger.

            “I wouldn’t know. It’s been quite awhile since the last time I broke someone out of jail,” the blonde replied sarcastically. “But it shouldn’t require rope, and I don’t think just two people could do it, anyway.”

            Socks shrugged and said, “Then come with us and make it three.”

            “Yeah, big shot, sounds like you think you can do better,” Riffraff said cynically.

            The blonde looked down at Riffraff. “Could probably do better than you could. You’d loop around a corner and knock a guard to the ground!” she predicted pessimistically.

            “Well, if you can walk the walk, talk the talk,” Riffraff dared.

            The blonde glared at the smaller woman and bit her lip. “Fine. Jus’ so you can eat your hat.”

            Socks grinned, relieved to have someone else come along, even if it was a complete stranger, but lately she has had pretty good luck with strangers. “I’m Lillian O’Connor, call me Socks,” she introduced, putting out her hand.

            The blonde took Sock’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mary Morgan Jenkins, you can call me Moe.”

            “I’m Raithnait McColley. Call me Riffraff and can kiss my ass,” Riffraff grumbled. “Well, come on, we ain’t got all night.”

            The three girls walked down the street together, into the street’s darkness and the fiery lamplight.

            Along the way, Socks jabbered on to Moe the whole story about how Sharks deceived Spot and how why Riffraff was helping and what happened between her and Spot and how she wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but she definitely had been taken with him, and so on and so forth until Riffraff announced that they had reached the prison, where Moe, Socks, and Riffraff all looked up with awe at the hideously large building, which was dark, dank, and didn’t look like a pleasant place to be in.

            “So, what’s the plan on breaking in, Riffraff?” asked Socks as she sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, tired all ready from the stressful day she was having.

            “Well, we have lots of options,” Riffraff said, then began to pace back and forth, ranting out ideas for about five minutes, all of which were totally impossible. Most of the ideas had to do with scaling walls, digging burrows under the ground with spoons, or using dynamite to blow up things. Not once in her whole escapade of words did she even come anywhere near a logical thought.

            When Riffraff finally stopped talking enough, Moe said, “I don’t think you’ve even come close to a logical plan.” She squinted her eyes. “In fact, during your long burry of rambling, I fear that I have only become stupider from listening.”

            Riffraff glared at the blonde and put her hands on her hips. “You know,” Riffraff began to state. “I don’t like you.” She looked over at Socks and noticed that she had fallen asleep, and so she kicked her awake with her shoe, and Socks grunted as she opened her eyes widely. After a bit more glaring, she finally rolled her eyes at this girl who was being far to cynical. “All right, Genius,” she spat with despite. “What do you suppose we do?”

            Moe raised a finger, indicating Riffraff to wait for an answer. Quietly, Moe walked slowly and sophisticatedly over to the iron gate. She put one finger onto the dark metal bar and pushed effortlessly against it.

            The gate swung open.

            Socks now looked annoyed as she hopped to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell us the gate was unlocked?” she demanded stormily from Moe.

            Moe shrugged and replied simply, ‘It wasn’t. While she was rambling on and on I was busy picking the lock with my hair pin.” she opened her palm and exposed a sharp, needle-looking hairpin in her hand before she retired it back into her upswept hair.

            “Well, that’s one of the possibilities I listed,” Riffraff lied, opening the gate wider. “Now that my plan has worked, let’s continue, shall we?”

            They walked through the gates, looking around with a paranoid eye, but saw no one to stop them from continuing farther into the dark courtyard of the prison. They approached the building quietly and walked into the first door they saw.

            “Hey, Bill, I’ll talk to ya later, I gotta go watch the gate! My shift’s been on for ten minutes already!” said a guard calling to someone from the door he was coming out of, just as soon as the three girls were gone from view.

            As the man came upon the gate, he saw that it was open. “Huh,” he simply said without too much concern. “That’s strange,” and then he simply walked over, closed the gate, and locked it with a loud click.

            The girls tried not to make a sound as they walked down a corridor of wooden floorboards. “I don’t get it,” Socks said as she looked around another corner with the utmost caution before turning the corner. “This is too easy.” Socks had expected a long night of tiptoeing through long corridors, ducking guards and scaling walls.

            Riffraff shrugged. “I have da same feelin’,” she admitted. She had expected a long night of tiptoeing though long corridors, ducking guards and scaling walls.

            All the sudden, there was a quiet murmuring noise. “Riffraff? Is dat you?” said a muffled voice from behind one of the nearest doors.

            Socks looked excited and hopeful as she sprinted up to the cell and said quietly and curiously, “Spot?”

            Riffraff and Moe sprinted forward. “No! It’s an ol’ buddy a’ mine, Robby Debay!” Riffraff said, sounding pleased. “Debay, dat you?”

            “No, it’s Santy Clause,” said the sarcastic reply from the other side. There was a creepy chuckle. “You’d betta get outta da hallway, Kid, ‘cause da guards’ll be back.”

            Moe’s ears perked up. “So there’s actually guards?”

            “Whattya mean?” asked the voice gruffly.

            “Well, we haven’t seen a single one yet,” she replied smoothly.

            “Well, don’t take it for granted, sweet thing,” said the baleful voice. “One’s probably on it’s way heyah right now! Get outta sight!”

            Riffraff turned to Moe with a quirked eyebrow and a higher heart rate. “Can you do your trick on Robby’s door?”

            “Do I want to?” Moe asked cautiously, but took the hairpin out of her hair nonetheless. She took the lock of the door and jammed the pin into it, gave it a jiggle, and then there was a click of the lock unlocking. She pushed open the door while placing the pin back into her hair and gave Riffraff a smart-alecky look. Socks was the first to walk into the room, not wishing to get caught by the guards.

            “Oh, you think you’re real special, don’t cha?” Riffraff sneered to Moe, who grinned and walked in. Riffraff fixed her hair before she moved her legs into the room.

            Merely a second before a guard walked around a corner, a large arm came out of the room, grabbed a fistful of Riffraff’s coat and yanked her quickly into the room, slamming the door shut instantly shut behind her.

            Riffraff’s eyes widened at the site holding the end of her coat, especially when it threw her up against one of the walls of the small cell forcefully.

            The boy wasn’t too tall or too muscular—but he did look tough, His shaggy brown hair grew wildly, covering his eyes, and freckles checked across his nose. His eyes seemed nearly too big for his face but looked dark in the little about of light the room offered. He didn’t have a shirt, socks, or shoes on, and his face held a stern decorum, complete with pursed lips.

            “What da hell are ya doin’ heyah, McColley?” he gruffly inquired. “Dis is too dangerous a place for a broad like you to be in.”

            “Mind getting your hands off my coat? It’s worth more than you,” Riffraff smoothly said.

            His stern decorum instantly faded into a grin and he pulled Riffraff’s waist close to him. “Only if you give me a lil’ kiss.”

            Riffraff gave a laugh and sociability have Robbie a peck on his cheek and then pulled away from him. He turned to the other girls and smiled perversely. “Who’s da lovely ladies you’ve got wit’ ya?”

            “Dat’s Socks an’ dat’s Moe,” Riffraff replied. “What were ya pinned for?”

            Robby grinned almost with an evil glint in his eyes as he starred at the two girls who were obviously alienated by him. Distracted, he said to Riffraff, “Oh… Jus’ some…. Thing.”

Riffraff rolled her eyes and said, “If this has anything to do wit’ dat gang of yours, you know Sharks could—”

            “Oh,” he drawled, approaching Socks closely so that she was slowly being pressed against the wall. “It was for nothing…” He positioned his hand by Socks’ neck. “Gang related.”

            Socks gulped.

            Riffraff squinted her eyes, looking confused for a moment, then said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t touch her. She’s Spot Conlon’s goyl,” she advised simply.

            Robby immediately looked Socks over and stepped back. “Ah,” he looked rather disappointed then turned towards Riffraff, adjusting the bulge in his pants. “So, what ‘re ya doin’ here, anyway?” he queried.

            “What have ya heard ‘bout Spot Conlon?” Moe inquired with a very political stature.

            Robby raised an eyebrow at Moe, then leaned towards her. “Spot Conlon?” he looked upwards. “Room above me, from what I heard.” His eyes fell back onto Moe. “I don’t know. Haven’t talked to ‘im yet.” He gave a grin. “Some oddah guys beat me to it, ya see. Dey talked to him durin’ breakfast.” He snickered breathily. “Talked to him ‘til he showed some blood.” He leaned towards Moe dangerously, breathing into her face. “One Yorker—room full of Joisey boys—his face ain’t lookin’ as pretty,” he looked over Moe’s body. “But you certainly ahe.” He quickly slunk his arm around Moe’s waist and leaned his face forward.

            Moe slapped Robby across his face quickly and hard without any warning. “No,” she told him sternly, then grabbed Socks’ arm and moved into the corner of the room that Riffraff was in.

            Robbie squinted and rubbed the red mark on his face. “Playin’ hard ta get? I like…” Robbie growled like a tiger on the prowl and continued to approach Moe.

            Riffraff put up a hand. “Well, we’re here to get Spot outtah heyah. How do we do dat, Rob?”

            Robbie rolled his eyes and walked to the barred window. He wrapped his fingers around the center metal bar, then yanked the bar right out of the window. “Dis was loose since I got heyah,” he explained. “Too small for me to get through… Any part a’ me, if ya get what I’m sayin’….” He winked at Moe, who shuddered. “But maybe you’ll all be able to get through.”

            Riffraff smiled happily and embraced Robby merrily, with thankfulness, giving him another peck on the cheek with relief. He took advantage of this and pressed his mouth to Riffraff’s, his hand quickly trying to draw her skirts up. She reacted quickly by punching him in the face. He yelped and quickly drew back, holding his nose with both hands.

            “I like ya a lot, Robbie, but if Sharks found out, you’d be a dead man,” she explained understandingly.

            “I shnow,” Robbie said through two hands cupped over his swollen nose. “Shanks. Knocked sha shense right inta shmee.” He gave one of his eerie chuckles.

            Riffraff grinned and looked over at Socks. “You’re first out,” she informed her.

            Socks looked flabbergasted. “Why me?” she replied, one eyebrow squinted, the other rose.

            “He’s youh man!” Riffraff replied with exasperation.

            “Shut up!” Moe hissed to Riffraff, who was being rather load. “Let’s just get out there!” Of course, Moe did not say that quietly either.

            “Hey! What’s going on down here?!” They head a guard shout from somewhere on the other side of the door.

            “Hurry! Shmove!” Robby briskly ordered, picking up Socks by the waist and sticking her out the window. Socks went along with it and climbed out onto the outside ledge, looking at the ground, which was a story below them.

            Moe and Riffraff followed right after her, and then looked trapped on where to go next. They heard the door begin to open from inside Robbie’s cell, and then Robbie’s shouting for the guard to ‘back shoff!’

           There was only one place to go now, and it wasn’t up. The three girls glanced at each other, and a tenth of a second before the guards hand grabbed Socks’ leg from inside the window, the three jumped simultaneously to the ground below, where they landed without grace, rolling around on the ground.

            The laid on the ground for a moment, in shock from the aching pain in all of their bodies, their breath knocked out of them. They only got up when they heard shouts of ‘escape!’ and the loud sirens being rung to life. They actually began to run once they heard the sound of vicious barking, and then saw the image of three mean-looking black dogs turning the corner and sprinting in their direction.

            The girls screamed and turned heal, running all over the place, tripping on their skirts as they sprinted. Closely followed by pit bulls, they ran a few circles around the court until Socks saw a trash can set next to the wall of the prison, where freedom rested on the other side. She flailed an arm to attract her comrade’s attention then ran over to the trashcan, and in a couple of quick movement’s had jumped onto the trashcan, onto the top of the wall, then over to the other side, where she landed with a ‘thump’.

            Once Riffraff and Moe discovered what Socks had done, they quickly followed the example. Moe seemed to scale and jump from the wall in one motion. Riffraff got onto the wall, looked behind her and saw a huge dog, snarling its teeth at her, looking ready to pounce. Riffraff gasped and fell backwards right onto Moe, who groaned in protest.

            “Thanks for breaking my fall,” Riffraff told Moe as she got up.

            Moe leapt from the ground and said “No problem,” with a growl.

            “Guys! C’mon!” Socks ordered, and began to run down the street as fast as she could possibly go. Riffraff and Moe quickly followed, through alleyways, byways, walkways, and any other ways that came up for almost two miles. Then they stopped to catch their breaths, almost fainting with their new discovered weariness now that the sirens, dogs, and guards’ noise were far behind them.

            “Poor Spot!” Socks groaned as soon as she got enough breath to. “He sounds like he’s going awful! We have to get him out of that awful place somehow!”

            Moe put a sympathetic hand on Socks’ shoulder. “Don’t worry, Socks, I’ll help you do something to get him out.”

            Socks bit her lip and asked; “You think we could try to break him out of prison again somehow?”

            “No!” Riffraff snapped, putting a hand on her forehead as if she was having a migraine. “I should just call Poppa’s lawyers for him.”

            Moe’s eye began to twitch. “What?!” she yelled. “Your father has LAWYERS?!”

            Riffraff’s eyebrows rose as if she hadn’t even known what she had just suggested. “That’s right! My father has a whole load of lawyers—they could get Spot off da hook if he shot da president! I’ll ask Pop tomorrow by telephone!”

            “You mean,” Moe began, looking ready to kill as she stepped closer and close to Riffraff. “Dat we trespassed and broke into government property, nearly got attacked by a convicted sexual predator, jumped off a building, got chased and nearly chewed up by big, monstrous dogs, scaled a wall, jumped off that, you fell on me, people were shouting to arrest us, sirens were going off because of us, our lives were in mortal danger, and YOU HAD LAWYERS?!”

            Riffraff shrugged, looking fairly unconcerned, and said, “My, you use large words.” She gave an easy-going sigh and said, “Truthfully, I didn’t even think of them.”

            Socks rolled her eyes and stated, also rather hostile, “You mean you’ve been thinking of a plan to get Spot out of prison all day, and you had LAWYERS you didn’t even think of?!”

            Riffraff grinned sheepishly, a bit embarrassed at herself. “Well, it’s not my fault. And If you want those lawyers, I’d just shut up AND… I’m gong home,” she concluded, turned heal unnaturally and began to walk quickly away.

            Socks and Moe looked at each other with the same thing on their minds, then turned heal and walked off talking about how useless their latest adventure had been as they walked through the quiet streets of New Jersey.

 *          *             *

             Moe and Socks arranged to meet Riffraff at the post office the next day, which fortunately had a phone open to the public, even though there was a limited number of people who even knew people with telephones. By the time they found Riffraff there, however, she was already on the telephone, talking to someone who was obviously her father.

            “Yes, Poppa… No, Poppa….” Riffraff sighed over the phone, her eyebrows lowered a bit over her eyes, obviously annoyed and exhausted by whatever she was hearing. “No, Poppa…. Yes… I mean—no, Poppa, of course not. Yes, I’m seeing a nice boy but just because I’m seeing him doesn’t mean that we’re doing anything physical. He’s barely kissed me,” she lied, her face now reddening. “No, Poppa, I’m simply living with Deacon… Yes, Uncle John told you right, he has roommates… No, Poppa, of course not! I wont, Poppa…”

            Finally, she turned her eyes to the side and saw Moe and Socks standing right beside her. She looked startled for a second and waved a hand for them to come nearer to the phone so she can talk to them and the speaker on the wooden box at the same time. “Anyway, Da’, the reason I was calling was… I sort of need your help on something.” Riffraff nodded as if her body language was visible to her father. “Thanks, Da’, but you don’t have to come down! I simply need your lawyers, see… No, Da’, I wasn’t arrested, a friend of mine was…. Oh, no, he’s innocent… He was framed…. Yes, that’s a fact! But anyway, since it doesn’t have any evidence or anything I thoughts his trial is unjust. As you once said, all you need sometimes is the presence of a lawyer.”

            Moe and Socks gave her the thumbs up, giving stupid smiles with it.

            Riffraff gave a bit of a grin then rolled her eyes at the phone. “Da’, why can’t you just act human for once and call them? For me?… Because I’m your daughter and you love me, that’s why you should do it!…. Please, Poppa, I don’t ask for much… Thanks, Da’!… All right, what do you need to jot down?… Okay…. Peter Conlon…. Yes, he’s Irish… Good…. The Jersey City—prison for kids; I don’t know what it’s called!… Yes, there’s only one in Jersey City, he’ll be there…. What’s he charged with? Sexual assault... No! Poppa, he’s innocent!.. Well, this one is…. Alright… Yes, I’ll talk to you later…Yeah, same to you. They’ll be expecting me tomorrow, right? Which one? Charles?…Okay…. Tell Mum I love her, too…. I will... Thanks again!”

            Finally, she hung up the phone and leaned up against the wall. “Alright, the lawyers will help us. No harm, no foul.” Riffraff pulled a cigarette and a match out of her pocket and began to smoke it, then began to move outside, both girls on her heels.

            “See? Wasn’t that much easier than getting chased by killer dogs?” Socks said, looking delighted.

            “Not much,” Riffraff replied with a breath of smoke.

            “Huh?” said Moe, looking confused.

            “Well, my father thinks I’m out here having premarital sex with a man he’s never even met,” Riffraff answered as if the concept was ridiculous. “I keep telling him I’m not, but he’s pretty paranoid.”

            “Well, are you doing all that?” Socks shrugged.

            “Oh, yes… But if my pop knew that he’d probably die of a bad heart or somethin’,” Riffraff muttered. “But then there’s all that jabber about me movin’ upstate to live with ‘em again, but my father’s still an asshole so I don’t think I ever will…”

            The girls looked nonchalant at all this.

            “Are you rich?” Socks finally asked.

            “No,” Riffraff riposted. “My father is. Loaded. But don’t tell anybody. There’s only so many people that know. And the others who used to know forgot. Sharks doesn’t even know about my family’s money.” She gave a big toothy grin.

            “So, what do we do now?” Moe asked, looking not interested at all in Riffraff’s strange tactics.

            “Go talk to the lawyer, get Spot outtah jail” Riffraff replied as if there was no better plan to be had in the entire world. She turned to Socks, “Then you can engrave yourself into his heart, if you will,” she told her with a wink. She turned to Moe, “And as far as I know, you just like bothering us.”

            Socks and Moe nodded as if they actually agreed with Riffraff, which was a first. “How long will it take the lawyer to break him out?”

“Ah, Daddy’s lawyer’s a goofy bastahd, so he’s hard to figgah out. He’s good, though, so…” She thought a bit. “Maybe a week or so? I don’t know. It depends on the judge. He appoints when the trial is. Before that, Chuck, the lawyer, is gonna do something interesting if he wants to get paid.”   Moe looked amused. “Why do you think all that’s gonna happen?”

            “Da same way I know dat you can’t smoke when your head’s undah da wattah, ya know? It’s jus’ common knowledge,” she said snootily, turning her back. “Now, I’m gonna go change into my workin’ clothes. I’ll see you two broads latah. Meet ya in Manhattan tomorrah on the cornah of 52^nd Avenue, dat’s where da firm is.” And she turned a corner.

            “You know what?” Socks asked Moe with a quirked eyebrow.

            “What?” Moe grunted.

            “That Riffraff girl’s beginning to grow on me,” she admitted. “Like, I don’t hope she dies in her sleep anymore.”

            “Yeah, she’s beginning to grow on me too,” Moe replied. “Like the weed she is.” She looked over at Socks and saw her walking away. “Hey, where are you going?” she asked.

            “To my lodging house. It’s a walk off but… I’m gonna go meet some friends to go work.” Socks looked rather ashamed at taking Riffraff’s advice.

            Moe chuckled. “I’ll come with. I’m not working today, so I gotta bother somebody,” she joked, and the two girls turned the corner.

 *          *             *

             Riffraff, Moe, and Socks walked boldly into the law firm, earning many stares as they did so, since they were not fitting in well with the clean and wealthy atmosphere. Riffraff was unabashed though, and walked strait back through the building as if she knew precisely where she was going, to an office on which there was a plaque that read “Charles J. Schiller”. She threw the door open and said, “Chuck, we need your help.”

            He looked up at her, startled. When he saw who it was he corrected, “It’s Charles, actually.” He smiled. “Hello, Rathnait, it’s been awhile.”

            Moe snorted. “Rathnait?”

            “Shut up, Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” Riffraff snapped at Moe. “It’s Renny, actually,” she corrected Charles curtly.

            “I apologize,” he apologized. “Renny. I’ve been expecting you. What can I do for you and your friends?”

            Socks gawked at her, she had never seen anything like that. Why didn’t he throw them out? Socks didn’t understand and didn’t get much time to stew over it because Riffraff pushed her towards the desk and said, “It’s your man, you explain.”

            “Well, ah… Here’s the deal…” Socks explained the situation with Spot.

            “Hmm…” Charles grunted thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “This is going to take awhile, Rath—Renny. It’ll be a lot of work trying to get a court appearance, and then more work to prove he was framed. Are you girls sure you’re up for it?”

            Moe looked like she was ready to tackle anything. Riffraff looked almost offended that he had even asked, and Socks looked nervous. Her anxiety went unnoticed because Moe began to dictate what they had to do.

            Moe paced about the office. “So, first of all, we need to research any other thing that’s happened like this. We also need to find as many people as we can who know what’s been going on—that little girl, too…”

            “Wait,” Riffraff interrupted. “Who died and made you God?”

            “My mother,” Moe replied smartly. “So, then we put all the information into as the organized a case as we can, and Spot should be free and clear by Saturday.”

            “My, my! You certainly know your procedures,” Charles chuckled. “Have you studied law?”

            “Naw, had a boyfriend who was studying law.” She paused then added thoughtfully, “Asshole, really…”

            Charles looked stunned for a moment, but made himself nod and say, “So, tomorrow, you ladies will be here at nine—”

            “Nine?!” Riffraff protested.

            “Yes, nine. And then we’ll start out research. Alright?” Charles sat down in his well padded, luxurious chair at his desk.

            Moe and Socks nodded and Riffraff looked indignant.

            The girls left the office, and Moe began to delegate again. “So, we need to find as many people as we can who will be on Spot’s side. So you, Socks, and that little girl will have to testify that he was framed. I don’t think they’ll even bother with the other said. Not that their crowd could afford a lawyer, anyway. Besides, they probably aren’t even educated.”

            Riffraff got angry. “Shahks went to school! He’s educated! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!”

            Moe shrugged. “Whatever.”

            “So, what kind of things will I have to say?” Socks asked curiously.

            “Just say what you’ve heard. Don’t embellish it or change it at all and you’ll be fine.”

            “What do you mean, I’ll ‘be fine’? Won’t I be fine anyway? What will they do to me?” Socks looked very nervous now.

            “They’re going to hang you,” Riffraff told her frankly.

Socks looked horrified.

            “No, don’t listen to her.” Moe assured, “She’s an ass. They’re not going to hang you. There’s no reason to. Don’t even say anything, Riffraff. Just don’t.”

            Riffraff looked furious that Moe had called her that, but still said nothing.

            The first thing they did was they walked down to Brooklyn. Riffraff’s entrance into the old firehouse (that was now used as a lodging house) created quite a disturbance in light of all the events that had gone on in the last few years. But since two other (rather attractive) ladies accompanied her, nobody said a word when they walked up the stairs.

            “Oh Zoooooeeeey….” Riffraff called. They heard a squeal and a lot of little stomping, and soon a little girl was racing down the hall and leapt into Riffraff’s arms.

            “Heyya, Zoey, how ya doin;?” Riffraff asked.

            “Gooood,” Fool replied to her, cutely.

            “That’s great! So, do you remember that meetin’ we were at a couple of days ago?”

            Fool looked thoughtful, then nodded her head. “Mmmhmm.”

            “You remembah how Uncle Spot got taken away by those baaad men?”

            Fool nodded again.

            “Do you remembah how you tol’ me why he got arrested?”             Fool nodded thrice.

            “Weellll…,” Riffraff was beginning to sound very condescending. “We need you ta help us. You have to tell the judge what you heard. Alright?”

            “Alright, Auntie Riffraff! Who’s the pretty ladies wit’ you?” Fool gazed at the other two women.

            Riffraff looked disgusted. “That’s Moe, and that’s Socks. You know, Uncle Spot’s girlfriend?”

            “Ohhhh,” Fool said quietly and starred at them.

            “Sooo,” Riffraff changed the subject. “How does a peppahment stick sound to you?”

            Fool looked ecstatic. “Yeah!”

            “Let’s go, then.” She set Fool down and turned around. Moe and Sock followed her down the stairs, and Fool dodged in and out of them, racing down the stairs, clutching her rabbit to her as she waited for them at the foot of the stairs.

            “Can Mistah Hoppity have a peppahmint stick too?” she asked when they got to the bottom.

            Socks and Moe laughed.

            “Why would Mistah Hoppity want a peppahmint stick?” Riffraff asked her. “Wouldn’t he rather have a carrot?”

            Fool looked at her innocently and shook her head. “He likes sweets…”

            Riffraff chuckled and took the little girl’s hand.

            They took her to the sweet shop where she got a peppermint stick for herself and one for Mr. Hoppity. Then they walked her back to the old fire station, finding a very flustered Uncle Rocks.

            “You! What right do you think you have to come in heyah an’ take my niece?” he barked at Riffraff, stomping up to her. “Come on, Fool,” he growled, grabbing her hand. “We’re going inside, now.”

            “Now, you just wait a minute, Charlie McMichaels!” Riffraff argued. “I’m her Godmother, and I have just as much right to spend time with her as you!” she shot at him.

            “No! You don’t!” Rocks corrected, talking through his usual cigar that was being help tightly on the side of his mouth. “She’s my niece, and not yours and you don’t get to see her unless I say you can, and you can bet your smart ass I wont say any such thing anytime soon!” Rocks countered and rushed into the lodging house, dragging a very confused Fool behind him.

            “Bye, Auntie Riffraff!” she yelled before Rocks slammed the door.

            “Ungrateful Asshole. And to think I helped him out at da pahty!” Riffraff muttered as they left. “Ta think he was almost my brother-in-law…”

            Socks looked at her in shock. “What?”

            Riffraff looked as if she hadn’t said anything. “What? What?”

            “How was he almost your brother-in-law?” Moe asked curiously.

            “Long story,” she shrugged.

            “That’s alright,” Socks mentioned, folding her arms. “I’m patient, I can listen.”

            “Yes, really, we’d like to know,” Moe agreed.

            “Well, I’m not telling, so you can just forget it!” She began to walk in the direction of Jersey City. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going home.”

            Socks and Moe shrugged and headed in the directions of their own places of residence.

 *          *             *

             Socks and Moe sat impatiently at nine fifteen in Charles’ office, waiting for Riffraff. When she finally showed up at half-after, Me glared at her and said, “You’re late.” She turned to Charles. “Can we get started now, please?”

            Charles nodded and walked over to a large bookcase behind them, pulling out several large volumes. He set one on his desk, and one in eat of the girls’ laps.

            Riffraff stared blankly at it. “You don’t expect me to read this, do you?” she questioned Charles.

            “Yes, I do,” he told her frankly, assuming that she was literate.

            “Well, I’m not going to, so, you can jus’ take this book back! I’ll supervise.” She dropped the large book on his desk.

            “What are we looking for?” Socks asked, rolling her eyes at Riffraff.

            “You’re going to read through that and find anything you can that would have to do with this boy’s case, the whole framing bit. What did you say his name was?”

            “Spot Conlon,” Socks stated, and opened the heavy collection of thinly sliced wood.

            Charles looked confused.

            “Er, Peter Conlon,” Riffraff added in without opening her eyes which she had closed as soon as she sat in Charles’ nice padded, luxurious chair.

            Charles scribbled his name down and put it in his jacket pocket.

            They poured over the books for hours until finally Charles broke the monotony of rustling pages at eleven thirty. “We’ll break for now. You’ve written down the pages, right?” Charles asked, stretching his shoulders. He watched the girls nod in agreement and suggested, “How about lunch?”

            Socks’ eyes flicked over to the chair where Riffraff was sleeping. “What about her?”

            Charles walked over and tapped Riffraff’s foot with his own. “Get out of my chair,” he chuckled. “Come on, Renny, we’re going to lunch.”

            “Says who?” Riffraff challenged.

            “Says me,” Moe spoke up. “I’m hungry.”

            “Fine, fine.” She got up with a yawn and followed the others out the door.

            All week they did the same: there at nine, leafing through book after book (Riffraff slept), lunch from eleven thirty to twelve thirty, then back to the books until five.

            Sharks noticed this around mid-week. He didn’t like how Riffraff was disappearing every day at the same time everyday with no explanation. So he did what any man with an untrustworthy girlfriend who he loved would do; he followed her.     

            She walked all the way to Manhattan with Sharks following a few yards behind her the entire way. When she stopped in front of one of the buildings near the lawyer’s office to light a cigarette, Sharks took his chance to corner her.

            “Aha!” he cried, jumping in front of her from his shadows. “What are you doing here?”

            Riffraff looked stunned for a moment, then returned with the same inquiring tone, “What are you doing here?”

            “I asked you first,” Sharks stated.

            Riffraff looked about her quickly, searching for a reason to be in New York. “I’m… Picking up this piece of paper.” She replied quickly, bending down and picking up a small scrap of paper by her feet.

            Sharks looked at her thoughtfully, but then gave a look of almost disappointment, thinking it a practical excuse. “Alright, then,” he finally said. “See you when you get home.” He strode off.

            Riffraff watched him strut out of sight and chuckled to herself as she dropped the cigarette on the ground, stepped on the bud, then walked the remaining distance to Charles’ office building.

            “Late again,” Moe mentioned in an annoyed voice while flipping through a book.

            “So, Chuck,” Riffraff began, ignoring Moe. “How much longer is this gonna take?”

            “We could have been already been done by now if you’d just help us!” Moe growled.

            “Somebody has to supervise!” Riffraff established. “So, how long, Chuck?”

            “It’s Charles,” he snapped with a bit exasperation. “And it should be another week, then we’ll have out case so complete that there shouldn’t be room for someone to protest. I’d say your friend’s as good as free.”

            Riffraff opened her mouth to tell his that Spot was not her friend, but thought against it, knowing Charlie wouldn’t understand and she’d have to explain the whole story; something she didn’t want to do.

            Again, lunch, back in the office until five then home again.

            Everyday, Sharks seemed to get more and more suspicious, making it harder and harder to shake him off when she walked to anywhere. Riffraff didn't know why he was following her (not being the brightest woman in the world), and as the other didn’t know her history, they were clueless as well. Riffraff’s greatest fear was that Sharks would find out what she was doing: defying him. If he found out, she was sure that Sharks would do something drastic. Nevertheless, she continued going to the firm, if nothing else but than a good nap.

            At home, Sharks kept jumping into rooms and surprising her with a “Aha!” as if he expected to find her doing something she oughtn’t.

            One evening, when they had gone to a bar (Riffraff wasn’t working at it this time), Riffraff informed Sharks that she would be busy elsewhere on Saturday.

            “But Renny, honey, dat’s da day o’ da boxin’ championship! Ya tol’ me you’d be dere!” Sharks protested desperately.

            “Well, othah things came up!” she said, as if that explained it. She couldn’t reason missing the trail; they needed her there.

            Sharks proceeded to sulk until they went home, when he only spoke to her to say goodnight.

            By the next morning, Riffraff had forgotten and was in Charles’ office by nine thirty.

            Moe had even given up berating her for tardiness. The day went was usual, except instead of “see you tomorrow” they got a “tomorrow is the day,” from Charles.

            All three went home with nerves, though Riffraff and Moe need not have any as Riffraff didn’t like Socks, Moe, or Spot, and Moe didn’t know Spot at all.

            Nevertheless, they were (even Riffraff) at the courthouse at eight o’clock sharp the next morning.

            “Now you show up on time,” said Moe sarcastically.

            “Shut up,” Riffraff snapped very articulately, and the four of them entered the courtroom and sat down at the table near the front, where they could see the judge and the jury.

            A man came up from the back of the room and positioned himself near a door in the front of the room.

            “All rise! The Honorable Judge Stevens is presiding!” the clerk shouted. All the people in the courtroom stood as the judge emerged from a door in the back.

            “You may be seated,” the judge said and took his seat.

            Charles rose and presented the case they had prepared. “Now, I’d like to call my first witness, your honor, if it pleases the court,” Charles announced.

            The judge nodded.

            “I call Lillian O’Connor to the stand.”

            Socks went pale and rose from her seat. The bailiff swore her in, and Charles approached the box where she sat.

            “Tell me,” he said, “Exactly what you heard the day the convicted was arrested.”

            “Well, I was sitting outside after the police took him away, and…” She proceeded to tell exactly what she had heard.

            “Mmhmm. Thank you, Lillian. I have no further questions.”

            “You may step down,” the judge told her, and she stood to go, when…

            “I object!” came a cry from the defense table. Riffraff was standing up, looking important.

            “You can’t object—you’re not the lawyer!” Charles hissed at her. He turned back to the court. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, it wont happen again.” He shoved Riffraff back down into her seat.

            “See that it doesn’t. Call your next witness, Counselor.” The judge coughed.

            Socks took her seat as Charles called up Zoey Walker to the stand. There was a look of surprise on the judge’s face as the tiny girl came toddling up to the stand. The bailiff lifted the child up and put her into the witness’ seat, but her head was not visible. There was a chuckle from the audience, as well as from the judge. The bailiff picked her up, set her on the ground, put some books on the seat, then set the child onto that. The bailiff came around to the floor and placed the bible before the child. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?” the bailiff asked.

            Fool looked about with confusion and finally stated, “I’m not allowed ta sweah.”

            Another chuckle rose from the court. “Do you know the difference between the truth and a lie?” the judge asked light heartedly.

            “Uh huh,” Fool replied with an earnest nod of her head.

            “Well, do you promise to tell the truth in this courtroom?” the judge restated.

            “Oh, sure!” Fool gleamed merrily. She looked accusingly at the stuffed rabbit in her arms, “But I don’t know about Mistah Hoppity. He shouldn’ be on da stand, anyway. He wasn’ there. He was takin’ a bath in da sink back home,” she explained, gesturing to the guilty-looking stuffed rabbit.

            The jury laughed. “Well, good notion. Clerk, please lead Mister Hoppity back to his seat,” the judge humoured and the chuckling clerk picked up the stuffed rabbit and set it on the defense table. “There can’t be two witnesses on the stand, anyhow.”

The old judge winked then gave a nod to Charles and he began questioning. “So, Zoey, what was it that you heard?”

            Fool told him the whole story of how he had come to hear Sharks’ plan. “But don’t tell nobody I told you ‘cause den Uncle Shahks would be real mad at me,” Fool noted at the end, making the judge and jury laugh once more.

            Once Fool had taken her seat again, Charles proceeded to resent the rest of the facts in their case. He was nearly finished when Riffraff once again stood up and stated, “I object!”

            Charles looked incredibly annoyed and walked over to Riffraff. He shoved her back down again and hissed “Button it, or else!” at her angrily. He apologized to the judge then finished presenting the facts that they had prepared.

            Riffraff didn’t object again if just because she was appalled that he just told her to button it.

            “Court is in recess until noon at which time I will return my verdict.” The judge disappeared into the back room followed by the jury.

            Socks suddenly got the shakes.

            “What’re ya shakin’ for? It isn’t cold,” Riffraff mentioned, looking at Socks as if she had some control over it.

            “What if—what if they don’t believe us? What if he’s—he’s stuck in jail forever?” Tears filled Socks’ eyes.

            Riffraff scoffed. “Dey wouldn’t keep ‘im in jail forever… Unfortunately. Would dey, Chuck?”

            “For the last blasted time, Miss McColley, my name is Charles!” Charles snapped ill humoredly. He then breathed out and shook his head. “No, no, they won’t keep him forever. The charge wasn’t that serious. He’s looking at a year or so, though. Maybe two… It depends on what they told the police.

            Riffraff nodded and the perplexed look left her face. Socks, on the other hand, didn’t look pleased and out her head down on the table staring at the door through which the judge would come and give his decision—the one that would decide whether Spot would get justice, and ultimately where she would stand the next year. It seemed to her to be an eternity before the door reopened (though in actuality it was only a half an hour). They all stood again.

            “You may be seated.” There was a lot of shuffling as everyone sat down. “The jury has voted and I have thought over the situation extensively, and it was an unanimous decision that…” The judge drawled.

            Socks felt as if he was intentionally taking his time.

            “That the facts point towards fraudery and dishonesty, and that justice must be served. The court of the state of New York has therefore decided that Peter Conlon, or ‘Spot’ rather,” he gave a warm grin at Fool who had called him that throughout her entire confession. “Will be released from his falsely accused crimes with the state’s most sincere apology. Bailiff, if you would please bring him out. I think there’s someone who would like to see him.” He said the last with an amused smile at Socks who had stood up and was looking as if he had just given her a piece of heaven.

            Socks raced out of the foyer of the building as soon as the judge had one again disappeared into the mysterious back room and the jury had filed out. She waited anxiously for Spot to appear.

            Soon enough, the Bailiff appeared leading a very confused Spot into the foyer. Socks saw him and came rushing forward and engulfed him in a hug before he knew what was happening. She finally let him go and dragged him over to where Moe, Riffraff and Charles were standing.

            “This is Charles. He’s the one who convinced the judge to let you out and that you were innocent!” Socks exclaimed.

            “Well, you girls helped me a very good deal,” Charles said modestly, blushing. “This is where we part ways, though. It was nice meeting you.” And he rushed off into the crowd of people.

            Spot walked out of the courthouse with Riffraff, Moe and Socks bewildered.

            “Riffraff, you did dis, didn’t you?” Spot finally said.

            Riffraff looked slightly nervous, but said, “No, why would I help you?”

            Spot shrugged, looking suspicious.

            “It was Socks,” Riffraff blurted. Socks said nothing, thinking Riffraff must have a reason for what she was doing. Moe looked at her suspiciously, but kept her mouth shut.

            “Really?” Spot said, slinging his arm around Socks. “What a goyl!”

            Socks flushed and grinned happily.

When they came to the old fire station, Riffraff guided Fool inside then turned to the others and chirped, “Well, dearies, it’s been great, but I must be going. Ta ta!” She hadn’t turned around yet, when…

            “Well, well, well, Conlon. Nuttin’ stops ya, does it?” Sharks scowled as he stepped out of the shadows, looking mean.

            “Sharks! How did you… I mean… Don’t… You… Why aren’t you boxing?” Riffraff sputtered.

            “I’m not stupid, Renny,” he growled at her. “So Conlon, can’t take a hint, can ya? Don' cha realize nobody wants ya ‘round?” Sharks yelled, ready for a fight. He had a group of New Jersey boys with him, as well, who were coming out of the shadows as the snickered at Spot.

            “Shut up, Asshole!” Socks yelled before Spot could reply. This outburst earned her several surprised looks from those who knew her.

            “Nobody asked you, little girl,” he snarled at her with a syrupy voice (though she was obviously taller and older than Riffraff).

            Socks started to stomp threateningly towards him, but was held back by Moe.

            “Shahks, I wouldn’ recommend insulting me goyl!” Spot hollered at him, rolling up his sleeves.

            “An’ jus’ who’s gonna stop me? You?” he laughed.

            “Yeah!” Spot replied angrily.

            Sharks looked surprised. He had expected Spot to back down. Sharks may not have been a genius, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew that he had an advantage that Spot did not: numbers. He had his boys obviously outnumbered Spot.

            “Hey, Socks,” he called to her quietly. “Go in da house an’ tell da guys in deyah dat Spot needs ‘em, now.”

 Socks nodded and disappeared into the building.

            “So, Spot. Looks like you got a lot on your plate. Defendin’ your goyl, bein’ outta jail… Hell—bein’ alive!” Sharks and the Jersey boys started to close in on him, laughing.

            Spot quickly lunged at Sharks with a yell and tackled him, since he was not expecting it. The New Jersey boys ran in to help Sharks, but were diverted as the Brooklyn boys came pouring out of the old fire station. Brooklyn now outnumbered New Jersey, and had an advantage because they were on their own turf. Some of Sharks’ boys seemed to realize this, but that didn’t stop them from throwing punches at their enemy. Spot and Sharks were pummeling one another while Socks and Riffraff stood by, paralyzed with fear, and Moe looked annoyed.

            “Conlon, you don’t get it, do you?” Sharks growled after he punched Spot hard in the mouth, Spot got him right in the nose in return, which was already bloody, then kicked him in the shin.

            “Shahks, you’re an’ asshole, an’ ya don’ deserve ta be alive, but I’m gonna give ya what ya do deserve!” Sharks hit him in the nose and pulled a knife out. Socks screamed shrilly, and for the first time, Moe looked worried.

            Sharks was jabbing the knife at Spot and finally managed to slash his arm. Spot took the moment, instead of yelping, to hit Sharks bard right between the eyes. The force of the blow knocked Sharks to the ground, and he held his head in pain.

Most of the other Jerseyites had retreated or were lying on the ground in pain, as well as a few Brooklyners.

            ‘That’s enough!” Moe announced. “I’m fed up! You’re both being childish. Go home, now!” Moe was fuming and the remaining boys didn’t want to mess with her so they took off for elsewhere.

            Riffraff ran over to Sharks as Socks bolted to where Spot had collapsed on the ground.

            “Thank God you’re alive!” Riffraff exclaimed, trying to wipe the blood off of Sharks’ face and getting it all over her dress and white gloves. Socks shot a glare at Riffraff as Riffraff began to attempt to get Sharks to respond to her. “Can you speak? Say something!” she ordered.

            “Stop yelling, Renny. My head hurts!” Sharks moaned.

            “Good. Alright… How many fingahs am I holdin’ up?” she held three fingers about six inches from his face.

            Sharks made an attempt to open his eyes and groaned in pain. “I don’t know. I can’t open my eyes, I think they’re swollen,” Sharks informed her.

            “Oh,” Riffraff said frankly. “How do you spell ‘Mississippi’, then?”

            “M-I…” Sharks began quickly, but then paused. “What does dat have ta do wit’ anythin’? It’s my eyes dat ahe swollen, not my brain!”

            Riffraff shrugged. “I jus’ wanted to know, really. Big word.”

            About ten feet over, Socks was trying to mop up Spot’s arm while Moe sat on a nearby crate, shaking her head.

            “Will you hold still?” Socks exclaimed, exasperated.

            “It hoits!” Spot protested, cradling his arm.

            Moe kicked him and said, “If you don’t hold still, it’ll hurt more!”

            Spot glared at her, but stopped squirming and let Socks clean and dress his wounds.

            “You could have been killed, Spot!” Socks asserted, nearly in tears.

            “I ain’t been killed, Socks. Look—jus’ a couple a’ cuts and bruises. Dey’ll heal.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Look, I been in loads a’ fights an’ I ain’t got killed yet, so don’ worry ‘bout it!”

            Socks didn’t look any more convinced, but said nothing.

            Moe was still shaking her head as Riffraff stood up and was attempting to get Sharks to his feet. “Come on, Honey,” she cooed sympathetically. “We’ll go home. Blue Jay’ll be glad ta get us somethin’ ta eat, and then you can go to sleep, alright?” she suggested.

            “Alright, but if you trip me on anything, so help me…” he threatened.

            “I won’t, I won’t,” Riffraff assured him, and they set off.

            “Spot, you ought to go inside. I expect your kid sister will be worried sick about you,” Socks said, standing up.

            Spot nodded and got up to his feet, but made not move to go inside. “Socks, why’d you decide to get me out of prison?” he asked her, looking down into her eyes.

            “I heard Sharks talking about how he—how he framed you… And… Well, it’s not right…” she answered.

            “Is dat da only reason?” he inquired earnestly.

            Socks blushed and couldn’t answer. Spot leaned in to kiss her and would have, had Moe not interrupted.

            “ALRIGHT, then, Spot! You were going inside, were you not?”

            Spot looked annoyed, but walked towards the door, Socks next to him. “So, um, Socks,” Spot began, keenly aware of Moe’s eyes watching him. “Wanna go do somethin’ tomorrow night?”

            Socks nodded, grinning happily.

            “’Right, I’ll be deyah at seven ta get ya, don’ be late!” He swept her up and kissed her (“Hurrumph,” Moe grunted) then turned and went inside.

            “Socks, no man is worth it. They’re all lousy bums. I’m tellin’ ya…” Moe warned her. “Especially that one.”

            Socks ignored her. “Bye, Moe, I’m going home!” She said and skipped off in the direction of Manhattan, her spirits high.

            Moe rolled her eyes and followed, mumbling to herself, “That kid don’t know what she’s getting into.”