"McCartney, let me outta heah! I'm gonna kill ya!"

I grinned. "Oww," I hissed, touching my lip. It was bleeding fresh again. "McCain, you're staying in there until you listen to me."

Silence. "Fine," she finally muttered.

"All right. Like I was trying to tell you earlier, none of the guys will come looking for us at the school. They expect us to either leave town or try and stay here. So, the school is our best bet. Twiggy is the only person who knows I used to live there, and she won't rat us out."

"How do you know?" Skweeker asked from inside the cabinet.

"I..." It was then that I realized that I didn't know. Twiggy could turn on us just as easily as Jack, Race, Blink, and so many of the others already had. Just the same, I didn't want to believe it.

"Uh-huh," came her smug reply.

"Listen, Skweek...this is the only place we can go. I promise, I can talk Miss Hemingway into it. We can work there and - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it!"

"What?"

"Work?!"

"Yeah..."

"Nope. T'ink a' somewhere else fer us ta go."

"McCain, we don't have any other options!"

After a long silence, she finally gave in. "Yer right."

"Are you just saying that so I'll let you out?" I asked.

"No! Well, sorta. But yer right!"

"All right," I said, removing the big wooden spoon from between the handles and opening the cabinet door.

Skweeker climbed out and stretched her limbs. "Ughhh..." she groaned. "I can't believe ya actually talked me into this."

"Get your things together," I said. "We have to leave now."

I waited for Skweeker to gather what she needed (I didn't have anything with me). When she was through, we exited the apartment, locking the door behind us. "Can you remember the way to that grocery?" I asked Skweeker.

She gave me a funny look. "You're talkin' ta Skweeker McCain. I know New Yawk like th' back of my hand."

Hours later, the two of us sat on the steps of a tenement building in Brooklyn. I was angry. "I thought you said you knew the city like the back of your hand!"

"I did...well, I t'ought I did. Maybe we took a wrong turn. Y'know, it's all t'anks ta yer bright idea a' stayin' in th' back alleys so's we wouldn't get soaked."

"Well, why don't we just go out to the main street and find our way back?"

"Conlon an' his punks might jump us - "

"We have to worry about guys jumping us everywhere we go! C'mon, let's just go," I pleaded.

"You win," she said, "but if I get killed, I'm comin' back ta haunt you."

I rolled my eyes as we exited the alley. Miraculously, nearly two hours later, we stood once again at the front door of the school, my old home.

Timidly, I reached up to ring the bell, but Skweeker beat me to the finish. Pounding loudly on the door, she yelled, "Hey! Hey!"

I grabbed her hand and pulled it down. "No, McCain, you - "

The door swung open and the glare of Miss Hemingway fell upon us. "Maggie!"

"H-hello, Miss H - "

"And where did you disappear off to?" she asked, not bothering to acknowledge Skweeker's presence.

"It's a long story."

"Wearing boys' clothing! You're a disgrace, Maggie! Both of you!" She pointed to Skweeker. "You, girl. Who are you?"

"Sk - " I elbowed her, and she took the hint. "Uhh, uhh, Mary McCain."

"Miss Hemingway, we've come to ask for jobs. Just for a little while, and then we'll be gone and you'll never hear from us again!" I pleaded with her.

For a moment, I thought that Miss Hemingway was going to slam the door in our faces, but God smiled down on us and she replied, "Fine, fine. Just come in out of the night air! You two will catch your deaths."

We hurried inside and she shut and bolted the door behind us. "You'll have to share the mattress in the attic, I haven't another. Oh, and the boys' clothing must go. You will wear black dresses at all times. Mary, I'm sure Maggie will fill you in on my rules."

Skweeker poked me and whispered, "Who's she talkin' to?"

"You!" I hissed.

The two of us nearly burst out laughing, but caught ourselves. Miss Hemingway gave us an odd look and said, "I will bring your dresses up right away."

She left us standing in the foyer. "Come on," I said to Skweeker, pulling her up the stairs and all the way to the attic.

I opened the creaky wooden door and she peered in. "What a dump! Ya used ta live heah?"

"Uh-huh," I answered, walking to the window. "That's where I saw you and Marconi and decided that I was going to follow you," I laughed.

"Marconi..." she sighed. "That idiot."

"He'll be fine. I think everything may turn out all right. You and I are going to find who really murdered Dirk Galloway," I said. Truthfully, I was very unsure as to whether or not everything would turn out fine.

Miss Hemingway came back through the door with our clothes. "Here. Put these on. Good night, girls." With that, she disappeared back through the door.

"Oh, no. Dresses," Skweeker groaned.

"Just put it on and make the best of it," I advised her. "We have to, for Marconi. We can't go get killed, he'd have no one to help him!"

"Yeah, yer right," Skweeker said. "Turn around."

The two of us changed into our dresses, backs turned to each other. "Ugh," I heard Skweeker grumble. "I don't t'ink I'm gonna like dis life."

I tried to smile, but remembered my lip. "You'll get used to it. It's only temporary, after all. Just remember that when I wake you in the morning, I'm not the warden at the refuge, so don't punch me."

McCain grinned. "No promises, McCartney."