IV

Escape

Isaac tiptoed down the stairs, very uncomfortable in the cheap clothes he'd 'borrowed' from the family servant, a crippled teenager called Crutchy.

The rich boy put his hand on the doorknob when a loud yawn stopped him.

"Where you goin', Mistah Isaac?" The aforementioned Crutchy asked. "Aftah dark. Shouldn't letcha out."

Isaac sighed. "Please, Crutchy? If I stay here, Father will make me marry a girl I don't care for. I can't let that happen."

Crutchy nodded, and surpressed another yawn. "Well, I's too tired ta fight ya, Mistah Isaac. I t'ink I undahstands anyway. So I's jus' gonna letcha go." Crutchy winked. "Woan tell yer faddah what I know."

Isaac grinned gratefully and adjusted the coarse vest he wore as he slipped outside into the crisp night, his uncertain path lit by scattered starlight.

"Okay, Its. You know what ta do?" Snitch whispered. Itey eyed his partner.

"'Course I does, Snitch, we's only done dis a hunnerd times, at least!" The Italian replied, scooting out of the window and into the street, a single paper under his arm.

Snitch watched and waited for his cue as Itey started to stumble and limp on the street. Finally, he collapsed into an alleyway, just in front of some young man with the straight back and high head of a high class kid, who jumped and immediatley knelt at Itey's side. Snitch knew every word they were saying, even though he couldn't hear them from his place in the window. The young man would ask if Itey was okay. Itey would cough, smile, cough, dry-heave, then say he made a bet with his friend, cough, cough, that he could sell more papes, shudder, than his friend, shudder, cough, dry-heave. Then the young man would think Hm… this poor slob's gonna die. I better buy his last paper to let him win his bet before he dies, and the young man would buy Itey's pape. This was Snitch's cue to run over and pick the young man's pocket, because Itey would start faking spasms.

They were at this point before Snitch knew it, and he dipped his fingers lightly into the young man's pocket… but he found nothing.

What the hell? Snitch thought He carries himself like a member of the upper class… what's he doing without his purse?

He thought too long. A hand unmarked by hard work and rough living grabbed his wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Snitch looked up, ready to twist himself free and take off down the street with Itey in tow, but he discovered his was momentarily astounded.

Never, in all his 16 years, had he seen such a beautiful boy.

The curve of his cheekbones, the fine way his brown hair fell over his forehead, the thunderstorm lying dormant in his deep brown eyes, the way his mouth curved downward at the corners, even though he wasn't frowning… this young man was positively gorgeous, and when Snitch came out of his shock, he found his face burning and his heart racing.

But Snitch was a thief, almost professional. He laid on the charm, smiling brightly.

"Youse awful skittish, suh." Snitch said, removing his hand from the young man's pocket. A quick flick of his wrist put a fifty-cent piece in his hand. "Youse dropped dis. I's jus' puttin' in back in yer pocket widdout makin' meself noticed so youse wouldn't 'cuse me a stealin'."

The young man blinked. "But… why would I do that?"

"'Cause youse high class, suh. An' I's jus' a newsboy. Yer class doan much like mine."

The young man frowned. "But… I'm not high class! I… I'm a newsboy, like you!"

Snitch narrowed his eyes. "Sho' you is, kid. If youse a newsboy, 'ow come I ain't nevah seen youse befoah? An' where's yer papes? An' 'ow come youse fooled by Itey, heah?"

The young man stayed silent, although his eyebrows flew up when Itey stood and brushed himself off, perfectly fine.

Snitch shook his head. "Well, if youse wanna be a newsboy, I c'n show ya 'ow." He held out a dirty hand. "Da name's Snitch."

"Isaac." The young man replied, shaking Snitch's hand, then his face fell as Snitch laughed.

"Well, dat's no name fer a newsie! Whaddaya t'ink, Its? 'Ee's raddah skittish, I noticed. Whaddaya t'ink a Skittery?"

Itey grinned. "It woiks. I likes it."

"A'right den, it's final." Snitch grinned at Isaac, the boy he didn't know was most likely to become the next mayor of New York and whose heart he was about to steal. "Yer name's Skittery."

Denton sat by himself at a table in Tibby's, watching the newsboys laugh, tease, and goof off as he waited for one certain newsie to come in, and talk with him.

"Spot! 'Ow's it goin'?" Came Jack's delighted cry, as well as Davey's jealous mumbles. These were the trumpets that sounded the arrival of the blonde King of Brooklyn, and the boy Denton most wanted to talk to.

"Spot, can we talk?" The reporter asked as Spot passed him. Spot frowned and took the seat across from the older man.

"What can I do ya fer, Denton?"

"Please. Tell me who can enter the Sheik's Eye. Spot, I'm running out of time!"

Spot grinned and a devilish glint lit his eye, the kind that just made Denton want to reach out and choke the little bastard. "Denton, I's already tol' ya: I cain't tell ya."

"But you can help."

"Yeh. I can." Spot considered. "But whattaya gimme fer da information?"

Denton frowned. "I'll pay you. How much?"

"Ten will be foine."

"Ten dollars?"

Spot raised his eyebrows. "If ya want good, ya gotta pay fer it. Ten dollahs or nothin' doin'."

Denton glared, but handed the money over anyway. Spot grinned and tucked it into his pants. "A'right. So. Da one guy dat c'n entah da Sheik's Eye? 'Ee's a t'ief, of all t'ings. If it catches 'is eye, 'is fingahs unconsciously grab it. 'Ee's nevah 'ad a goil, but, taday, 'e found a boy dat suits 'is fancy."

Denton blinked. "God…" he breathed. "And who fits that description?"
As if on cue, Snitch walked through the door, his arm around the shoulders of a boy that looked familiar to Denton, but was probably only a new boy, looking for a job.

Denton met Spot's eyes, which were, again, glinting.

"I t'ink youse got it now." Spot said, getting up. "Nice doin' business witcha."

Itey sulked, watching from behind as Snitch turned his charm on full blast, and Skittery drank it up like wine. Both boys were smiling, laughing, flirting.

And Itey was jealous.

He'd been left out of everything all day, and felt very lonely. Snitch wasn't usually like this.

Itey jumped when Snitch let out a loud laugh and hugged Skittery not-so-inconspiciously. The Italian frowned. He was usually the one that made Snitch laugh like that. What did this rich-boy-posing-as-a-low-class-kid have that Itey didn't have?

The trio walked up the steps to the Lodging House, and Snitch turned around.

"Oh! Dere you are, Itey!" he said with a short laugh. "Wonderin' where you got off ta."

Itey scowled. "Right behind ya da whole time!"

Snitch grinned sheepishly, and winked at Skittery. "Guess me head's in da clouds taday, Its. Sorry."

Itey could only sigh and follow the flirting boys inside. What else could he do? Tell Snitch how he felt and possibly ruin their entire friendship?

He shook his head. Nuh-uh. Now way in hell would Snitch ever find out that his best friend was in love with him.

Denton burst into the Lodging House, breathing heavily, as if he'd run the whole way.

"Where… where's Snitch?" he demanded.

Jack blinked. "Uh… 'ee's upstaihs. Wit' da new boy." No one noticed the dark scowl that covered Itey's face when this last was said.

Denton nodded. "I need to speak with him… him and the new boy."

Jack shrugged and headed up the stairs. Moments later, he came back down, Snitch and Skittery in tow.

"Wha's wrong, Denton?" Snitch asked, his eyes confused, and perhaps a little annoyed. A smirk twitched on Denton's lips. Yes. Snitch was the one.

"I'm afraid I have some news for you." Denton said with a fake sympathetic sigh. "Your new friend here… what's his name?"

"Skittery." Snitch replied, and slowly took Skittery's hand. Had they gotten that close in just one day? All the better.

"His real name."

Snitch paused, trying to think. Skittery smiled slightly. "My real name is Isaac." He said, his voice untainted by a street-accent.

Denton smiled back. "Isaac Tatum?"

Skittery froze. "What?"

"I'm Bryan Denton, a reporter for the Sun. Isaac Tatum, son of one of the richest men in the city, went missing this morning, and when I saw a boy of his likeness at Tibby's this afternoon, I started to wonder…" He stopped there. The simple tremors running on Skittery's body were proof enough.

Snitch stared at Skittery, his mouth open. "Youse Isaac Tatum? Dat guy dat da goil was aftah dis mornin'! Youse 'im?" he asked with a harsh whisper.

"Snitch, I…"

"There's no time for that now." Denton cut Skittery off. "Snitch, I'm not the only one that put two and two together. You need to leave!"

"Why?" Snitch asked with a contemptuous frown that infuriated Denton.

"Someone thinks you've kidnapped Isaac Tatum. They called the police, and they're coming down with a warrant for your arrest." Denton paused to let this sink in. "I can help you, if you help me."

Snitch, finally, looked frightened. "Can I take Skitts wit' me?" he asked. Denton shook his head.

"No. If he's smart, he'll go back home."

"Itey, den? Please, Denton!"

Denton sighed. "All right. Itey can come with you." The Italian kid would probably die as soon as he set foot into the Sheik's eye, and what was that to Denton? So long as he got Snitch to get the lamp for him. "Now please! We have to go!"

Snitch looked at Skittery for a moment, then Itey grabbed his shoulder, perhaps a little roughly, and dragged the young thief outside.

Denton looked at Skittery. "I do advise you to head home. You've caused enough problems."

Skittery hung his head as Denton left the Lodging House and shut the door behind him. Itey and Snitch were anxiously waiting on the front steps.

Denton smiled at them. "Well, boys. Let's go."