So I lied. I knew what kind of problems it was going to cause, and I did care. People I knew and was close to were going to turn on me, only I couldn't guess who; I didn't want to. My stomach was churning and it felt like somebody was jamming a knife into it over and over again. I was going to be sick. It was all too much to happen over night and I still had no word from Greyson in any form. He usually hand wrote something, it could get through the system faster and he wouldn't have to make a public appearance at a telegram service. I was worried. My stomach turned over again and the pain grew worse, I clutched my midsection and assumed the fetal position on the bunk again, groaning.

"McCain, you awright?" Monkey asked me.

I didn't answer her. I was avoiding going downstairs at all costs. It was going to happen sooner or later, and sooner was the desirable choice. Tears were pushing at my eyes, wanting freedom. McCain, you don't cry. Not in front of people, much less her. Pull yourself together. Ignore the burning, and get out of this bed. I heaved a big sigh, and slowly stood up, facing Monkey. I glared at her with a vengance and almost pure evil in my eyes. It was all fake, but intimidating nonetheless.

"I need to find out what side Race is on," I stated flatly and began down the stairs.

"Skweek--" She started, I cut her off.

"Just go outside and wait for me," she stood looking at me blankly. "Go."

She shuffled past me on the stairs, giving me a look of disbelief, or at least that's what I thought it was. I wasn't sure of it at that point, but something inside told me I would regret not reading her look, but even that was kicked to the back of my mind. I heard her step from the staircase, several quickened steps and then the front door slammed rather quickly. I sunk on the stairs and leaned my head against the wall. A single tear streamed down my face and traced itself along the scar that tainted my skin. I wiped it away with spite and anger and stood up and proceeded down the stairs only to be blocked from the front by two grief-stricken newsies; Racetrack and Jack.

"Where ya goin' McCain?" Jack questioned.

"Home," I replied trying to push through but he wouldn't let me.

The others that were still crowded around the lobby watched with anticipation. They were all against me, I could tell.

"What's waitin at home for ya? Ferget t'clean off th'knife?" The voice sounded like Kid Blink's, but I couldn't find him anywhere, until he pushed me into Jack and Race from behind.

I tumbled into them, but quickly stood and regained my stance, turning on Blink vicously, "He din't do it, and I had nothing to do with anything."

"That's what they all say." Racetrack chimed in.

I was surrounded on all sides, and hadn't reached the base of the stairs. The rest of the room nodded in agreement and some of the girls left crying again. My eyes searched wildly for a way out, but there was none. I was trapped in a room full of people that were my friends not more than 31 hours before. It was amazing how quickly people could transform themselves. I knew that I'd done it several times in my life, but I didn't have a mass following when it happened. I stared at Racetrack, then Jack, then back to Race with nothing to say that could compensate for the feeling that was in my gut. Once again, I tried to advance between the two in front of me until Jack pushed me back so I landed on the stairs, half sitting, half laying and Blink put a foot on one of my shoulders to hold me there. Then, I half expected them to beat the life out of me.

"Look McCain," Jack started, leaning in to me. "We all know he did it, and we all know that you must have had something to do with it. Your name is connected to his after all and if any of us see you around here before this little matter is cleared up, we're gonna soak ya."

My gut churned inside out one last time and I truly was going to be sick. If it wasn't for Blink holding me down, I would have strangled Jack right then and they'd be happy knowing I did have something to do with a murder. Blink removed his foot and used it to shove me forward as Jack and Race picked me up from the ground. Crude comments and jeers came from the gathered and they let me go at the door.

Race stared me dead in the eyes: "Beat it."

ch.17