"Oh, wait," I said, catching her by the arm. "I need to talk to Twiggy."

"No, ya don't."

I gave Skweeker a once-over. "Why not?"

"'Cause this time, askin' why might actually get ya killed. C'mon."

"No. She's my friend. I have to tell her my reasons!" As I started back toward the stairs, Skweeker ran in front of me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me violently.

"Don'tcha get it, McCartney?! Every one 'a dem in that building is against us! I know if I go in there, they'll kill me! Now, whaddo ya t'ink they'll do ta you? T'ink they'll treat ya any diff'rent than me? Huh?" She stood there, holding onto my shoulders, staring at me like she was going to either cry or be sick at any moment. "They t'ink I helped Marconi. They know you're wid me now. It'd be suicide ta go back in there."

Shaken, I suddenly realized how bad our problems were going to become. Slowly, Skweeker let go of my shoulders, turned, and started down the street in silence. I followed a few steps behind her, not sure what to say, or even if I should say anything. Sometimes silence was better than speech.

I began thinking of all the catastrophe that had taken place in the week since I had run into Skweeker McCain. Surely there was no one else in the entire world that could stir up so much trouble as that girl and her accomplice Greyson Marconi. I wonder what will happen from here. I wonder what my life would be like if I'd never met those two...I wish I'd never met them, and yet...how boring my life would be if I were still at that school!

I was interrupted from my thoughts when I crashed head-on into Skweeker's back. "Hey, wouldja watch it, already?!" she hissed.

"Why did you stop?"

"We're heah," she answered, pointing at the building that lay before us. It was nothing more than a common tenement building.

"This is the Bronx?" I asked her.

"Yep. Home sweet home."

I followed McCain into the building and up several flights of stairs. Pulling a key out of her pocket, she unlocked a door at the far end of the hallway and entered, me following.

The apartment was dark, dusty, and bare. There was an unmade bed in the middle of the room, with the headboard against the east wall; one wooden chair (that sat lopsided) to the right of the bed; a closet to the left of the bed; a small stove and some cabinets that lined the left half the west wall; a window on the right half of the west wall; a small, tattered sofa underneath the window that had a flattened pillow and a crumpled sheet and blanket on it; several kerosene lamps scattered about the room; a few articles of clothing lying here and there; and a small lavatory straight ahead. The room itself was very small, but big enough to house four people uncomfortably.

"Ain't much," Skweeker said, "but it's enough."

She lay down on the bed and I sat on the sofa. "What do we do now?" I asked her.

"Wait and hope dat Marconi comes home...an' dat he din't kill nobody."

Both of us were silent for a moment. Finally, I whispered, "But what if he did?"

"Well, ain't nothin' we can do about it then, is there? 'Cept put in a good woid fer 'im wid th' judge an' hope he don't get th' death penalty," Skweeker snapped, pulling the blanket tightly around her and burying her face in the pillow.

I took hold of the pillow on the sofa, lay down, and curled up, pulling the sheet up to my chin. However, I couldn't find sleep, or rather, sleep couldn't find me. Either way, I tossed and turned on that sofa for goodness knows how long. Finally, tired of fighting, I lay still, listening to the voices on the street below. My ears perked when I heard a faint whimpering.

I listened closely, and a sniffle caught my ear. After a moment, I realized that Skweeker was crying. Rather than try and comfort her, I rolled over with my back to her and mimicked sleep. If I say anything to her, I thought, she'll probably kill me.

After a very long while, Skweeker stirred, and I heard her sit up in bed. "Monkey."

I didn't answer.

"I know yer awake, so quit fakin' it an' answer me," she sighed.

I rolled over to face her. "Yeah?"

"Don't never tell nobody dat I cried in front 'a you. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay Skweeks."