His arm sprouted from the alleyway faster than a racehorse, and grabbed her own arm. He pulled her into the darkness with him and pressed her against the side of the building.

"Why youse been avoidin' me?" He asked, trying to sound angry, but only coming across as pitiful, too pitiful for her to bear.

"I'm sorry, but I can't be with you anymore. It's not like it used to be."

He squeezed her arms, his attempts at intimidation only coming across as the half-assed work of a saddened little boy. "How ain't it like what it used ta be? We's still in love, ain't we?"

She paused. "You are."

"You is too. Doan lie ta me. Youse always tol' me nevah ta lie ta youse, an' now youse goin' right ahead an' lyin' ta me? Whattaya tryin' ta do?"

"I'm sorry."

"Doan say ya are. Youse ain't sorry. Youse ain't got nothin' ta be sorry for 'sides hoitin' me." He let go of her and ran his fingers through his hair, which was getting long enough again to show off the curls he so desperately tried to hide.

"And I am sorry for hurting you. But we can't be together anymore!"

"Why?"

She was silent.

He grabbed her again, even though he didn't have to; she'd never admit it, but she was happy to be here with him again: she still loved him. "Why cantcha be my goil anymoah? Why cantcha tell me dat?"

She looked him in the eye, hazel-green meeting hazel-brown, sharp meeting soft, desperate meeting desperate. "I can't tell you."

"But why?"

"Because. I can't."

Again, he let go of her. "Is it yer mothah again?"

She shook her head, short brown hair flying over her face, reminding him of a little girl. "No. It's not Mama."

"Yer sistah?"

Another shake of the head. "Lissy, no. Lissy has no say in what I do."

"Yer fathah, den."

And again, she shook her head. "No. Daddy let's me do as I like."

He towered over her by a foot or more, but he felt so small now. Why was she doing this to him? Why was she tearing him apart from the inside out? Why was she torturing him with this secrecy? Why was she drowning him in this now-unrequited love?

He turned and rested his head against the opposite building, his back to her. His breathing was heavy as he tried to keep back his tears of frustration.

When he felt her hands on his waist, he moved away from them, and was forced to look at her, at that face that attracted him for a reason he did not know; that round, rosy-red face with it's curved mouth, child's nose, hazel-green eyes underlined with the early crinkles of a girl that loves to laugh; a face framed by soft, dark brown, well cared for hair.

A face he couldn't look at without feeling that strange despair that he hated so much.

She licked her lips, feeling very dry and cold. What was she supposed to do? Tell him the truth?

She couldn't do that. She couldn't hurt him that way. To see those doe's eyes she loved so much fill up with sadness and pain...

But wasn't that what she was seeing now?

She almost told him when that thought occured to her, but then the idea of disgust hit her. To see him look at her with disgust... They had often played with each other, teasing, and he would give her disgusted glances, but only in play... because they were both aware that she was only teasing. To have the disgust be genuine... she almost cried at the mere thought of that.

"Snitch..." she said, using the nickname he'd given her when they'd first met. "Snitch, it's not just me. It's not just you. It's both of us."

"'Ow does dat woik? I's tryin' ta bring us back togedda, 'cause dat's 'ow it's s'posed ta be, an' youse tryin' ta keep us apart 'cause... I dunno. Ya woan tell me!" He shouted this last, again trying to sound angry and not succeeding; He was not an angry person.

She blinked, trying not to cry. Damn these women's hormones, damn them to hell!

And it didn't help when his voice was soft like his touch while he spoke again: "Why wontcha tell me, Lute? Wha's goin' on?"

She turned away from him, the sound of her name on his tongue touching her the way it always had. He sighed and turned so their backs faced each other.

"Snitch… Daddy's sending me to Albany."

"Why?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he stared at the wall.

"He has a friend there who agreed to marry me."

There was a sound like breaking glass, and he felt the pain like a shard in his chest. "Why's ya marryin' yer dad's friend?" he asked softly.

"Because I need to get married now. You… A job as a newsboy isn't steady enough and doesn't make enough money, Snitch."

"Why's ya gotta get married now, Lute? Why cantcha wait?"

She was silent.

"Lute?" He prompted. He could tell she was close to breaking and letting the whole story wash over him like a tidal wave.

He wasn't sure if this was good or not.

She hugged herself slightly, and her jaw twitched. She wanted to tell him, but couldn't bring herself to. Her mind was ready, but her heart was not.

"Snitch… I… I can't wait. I have to get married now."

"But why?" Snitch whined.

She paused again. "You… you remember your birthday, in April? I managed to get myself real drunk, and somehow the boys got you drunk too. You tried to walk me home, but somewhere along the line we got lost and the next I remember we woke up in an alleyway, clinging to each other."

He blushed. "I remembah. We doan know what 'appened dat night. 'S all black. Too drunk ta know. But what does dat have ta do wit' anythin'?"

She hugged herself again. "I know what happened that night."

"Yeh… and?"

"Snitch, we… oh, God, why can't I say it?" she put her fingers against her skull, frustrated with her new inability to speak the words that needed to be said.

He reached for her and took her by the shoulders, wanting to hug her, but restraining himself. She would only push him away if he did.

"I… I wasn't feeling well and went to the doctor. Last week. Mama was worried about me and made me go. He… he… he said…" Her fingers dug into her hair, and he squeezed her shoulders encouragingly.

"Whaddid 'e say, Lute?" He asked, suddenly frightened that she may have some strange, incurable disease, like the pox or leukemia.

She continued stuttering, unable to make herself say anything, and finally burst into frustrated and angry tears.

"Lute, calm down…" He said, feeling awful about making her cry. "Wha's wrong, Lute? Tell me?"

She didn't look at him, couldn't look at him. "The doctor." She sobbed. "He said I was going to have a baby. Four months along." She took a deep breath and moaned for another few moments. "It had to have been April. The drinks. The alleyway. And you."

He let go of her. "Youse jokin'. Youse messin' wit' me head. Like youse always do." He laughed slightly. "Youse c'n stop now. C'mon. Tell me youse puttin' me on."

She shook her head and sank to her knees, still weeping with embarrassment and indescribable fault.

He watched her cry for a moment more, waiting for her to look up, grin, and say 'Gotcha!', like she always used to. When she didn't, the truth about everything sunk in, and his face lost all its color. He stepped away from her, until his back was against the building.

"Please be pullin' me leg, Lute." he said desperately. "Please."

Her grievous sobs were the only reply.

He ran to her, lifted her onto her feet and pressed her against the wall. "Be jokin'! Stop cryin' an' tell me youse jokin'!" Now his anger began to show, genuine and desolate. "Dammit, stop cryin' and tell me youse only playin'! Lute!"

Her face and eyes were red, wet, and distressed. "I'm not teasing, Snitch! This is real!"

"Doan say dat! It ain't true!"

"But it is!"

Passers-by would cast strange glances into the alleyway to see the wretched teenagers yell at each other, then quickly resume their journey to wherever it was they were going, their minds on their own petty problems. What business was it of theirs if a newsboy and a middle-class girl were having a spat in an alleyway?

He let go of her, his face directed at the ground.

"Snitch… Snitch, please…"

"Go." He said dully.

"Snitch…"

"Dammit, go!" He said, lifting his head. "I can't t'ink!"

She slumped against the building, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

He looked at her, and the fervor in his eyes was enough to make her gasp. "Get outta heah! I can't look at ya right now! I's gotta t'ink about dis! Now get outta heah!"

I can't look at you right now…

She blinked, her mouth open in shock. "You… you don't mean that!"

"Get outta heah befoah I find somethin' ta make ya leave!"

She lowered her head to her chest, biting her lip and turned to leave.

But she paused at the entrance and looked back at him. "I already told Daddy this… but if I do end up marrying his friend, and the child's a boy? I'm naming it Daniel. No matter what."

He clenched his fists and didn't respond.

She left him in the alleyway, holding her head high and already trying to dismiss the whole thing as a twisted fantasy.

Snitch knocked on the door to the McDonaghey's home the following night, praying that she would still talk to him, even though she had no reason to.

Lute's older sister, Lissy, opened the door, and like always, he was struck by the contrast between Lute and her sister; to oppose Lute's short and stocky build with dark colors, Lissy was tall and slim, with lighter colors; pale, with blonde hair and blue eyes.

She smiled. "Hello, Snitch. Can I help you?"

"Is Lute in?" He asked softly.

Lissy blinked, and her eyes filled with pity. "Did she not tell you? She left this morning for Albany, to start getting used to her home with Mr. Alders."

He raised his eyebrows. "No. No, she didn't! She tol' ya ta tell me dat, didn't she?"

Lissy shook her head slowly, her face glowing with pity for the young boy. "No. You can even come in and check if you like."

He sighed and shook his head. "Nah… dat's okay…" He gave her a sad smile that struck her so deeply, a gasp escaped her lips. "I's got a long walk ahead a me. I'd bettah get started."

Lissy blinked again, and nodded slightly, pretending to understand. When he walked down the steps and disappeared into the New York night, she said a short prayer for his safety and shut the door.

Lute sat on the windowsill, her legs hanging over the edge as she stared at the sky and breathed in both the still night air and the fresh oxygen from the tree outside her window.

"Ms. Lute! Go to sleep!" was the order from a servant in the hallway.

"I'm his bride-to-be, not adopted daughter," she pouted under her breath. "Jesus…" She stepped on the floor and closed the window, sighing softly. Bride-to-be. "And Daddy had to pay him to do it, too, I bet."

She turned to her bed, and a small sound made her jump. She twirled to look at her window, a little frightened.

After a moment, a pebble struck the windowpane. She frowned in confusion and went to the window to open it.

"Who's there?" she called into the sharp night.

The only response was the tittering gossip of the wind in the leaves of the tree outside her window. She waited a for a moment, and started back inside when a flash of yellow among the leaves caught her attention. She rubbed her eyes and the yellow was gone.

"My imagination…" she mused, but it occurred to her then that there was no wind that night… How could the leaves chatter like that if there was no wind?

"Who's out there? Answer me!" she called.

No answer. A tremor of alarm fingered her spine, and she moved to shut the window again.

"Wait! Lemme in!"

Lute's hand flew to her mouth, and she bit it to keep from screaming in surprise when Snitch dropped from a tree branch and swung himself onto her windowsill, his agility the outcome of his young age and lithe body.

"Heya. How's it rollin'?" he said with a grin.

She stepped away from the window as he slid inside. "Shut dat door." he said quietly as he shut the window behind him.

Lute narrowed her eyes. "No. I want the option to scream if you attack me."

Snitch rolled his eyes and turned to face her. "Always fait'less. Nevah trus' nobody wit' nothin', ah?"

"No. If you trust someone, they'll just end up hurting you."

He averted his eyes as he crossed the room and shut the door for her. "What makes ya t'ink I'd attack ya, Lute?"

"Because you're mad at me. About the… you're mad." She stared at the floor, hugged herself, and sat down on her bed.

He looked at her. "I wasn'… yes I was. I's mad." He sat next to her. "'Cause I didn' know what ta do. I's only sixteen, earnin' thoity cents a day sellin' papes, moah if I finds a few good pockets ta pick." He sighed softly. "But it would nevah be enough ta support a wife and kid."

She stroked his back as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "That's why I told Daddy to send me here, Snitch. So you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"But I would worry 'bout it!" He say up quickly and grabbed her hands. "Lute… took me two days ta get heah. Sometimes I walked, an' odda times I jumped on da back of a coach. But two days wit' nothin' ta do but walk or ride… gives a lotta time ta t'ink."

"What did you think about?"

"'Bout you." He answered shyly. "'Bout havin' a family. Bein' a dad. Havin' a wife." He kissed her knuckles, his hands shaking slightly. "'Fore I left, I talked wit' Itey an' Jake, an' dey tol' me ta own up ta what I done. Ta come find ya."

She frowned. "So you came here to tell me that you're sorry? That's all?"

He smiled and kissed her hand again. "Youse always misunderstandin' me. Dat's not what I came heah for."

"Why are you here then?"

"'Cause I loves ya."

"Lot of good that does."

He blinked, hurt. "Ya doan care dat I loves ya?"

"No, I care." She sighed. "I might even care enough to say I love you too. But no one can survive on just love."

Snitch grinned. "But it pushes y ta woik hardah ta survive." He kissed her forehead. "I talked ta Kloppman too. Dat's why I's really heah. Ta tell ya what Kloppman tol' me."

"And what did Kloppman tell you?"

His eyes were glowing. "Kloppman tol' me 'bout a friend a his in Queens. Dis friend, Mistah Joseph, owns a bookshop an' is lookin' for someone ta make deliveries, an' ta hold da shop down on weekends while 'ee's out." He leaned close to her, holding her hands to his chest so she could feel the soft 'thud' of his heart. "I talked ta Mistah Joseph. I got da job!"

She stared. "Snitch, I don't know how that's going to help-"

"But it will!" he cried, momentarily forgetting that he was in a house he was not supposed to be in. "It will help," he whispered huskily when Lute shushed him. "Da pay's good, an' dere's a room above da store dat Mistah Joseph'll rent ta me for a good price." His face shone with a childish excitement. "Now come home wit' me. We'll get married. I'll take care of ya. We'll raise da baby togedda. An' when we's ready, we'll 'ave moah. You can write yer stories, an' I'll sell 'em downstaihs." He beamed expectantly at her. "Well? Whaddaya say?"

She could only stare at him, shocked. "Snitch… I…"

"Please, Lute!" he begged, pulling her to him and embracing her. "Come 'ome wit' me. Ev'rythin'll be poifect, an' den some. I promise."

"But… I…"

"Lute! Youse always t'inkin' 'bout what oddas'll t'ink of ya. 'S time ya t'ot a what's best for yerself." He blushed softly. "An' for yer baby."

"She didn't look at him. "But… this is what's best for my baby." she said quietly.

Snitch stared at her, shocked. "B-…but, Lute!…"

"If I get married now, the child will not be illegitimate. If I get married to Mr. Alders, I'll have the money and the ability to take care of the baby." She grasped his hands, desperate. "Please understand that I'm not refusing because I don't love you. I do! I'm refusing because I want to be able to clothe and feed my child. Even if you have good wages, will they be good enough to support you, me, and the baby? Infants are expensive, Snitch!"

He listened to her, even though he didn't want to, and managed to understand what she was saying. And she was right. A house, full of female servants to help Lute along, and money to feed and clothe the child as it grew, and if Mr. Alders was a friend of Ben McDonaghey, then he was more than likely a very good man.

This was the life for Lute and her baby.

But it wasn't just her baby.

"…What about me?" he asked quietly, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes.

She bit her lip. "You… you can stay in Manhattan. Be with your friend. Carefree. The way you should be."

"But… da baby ain't jus' yours. Doan I get a say in what happens?"

She shook her head slowly. "I'm the mother. I know what's best for my child. Snitch, you just have to trust me!"

"It's bettah for da baby ta nevah meet his fathah?" Snitch cried, the thing that had been eating at him finally blooming from his mouth. "Ta nevah know where his eyes came from? Or his curls? Or his height?"

Lute, frustrated, let her mouth go. "Yes! Okay? Yes, I don't want my child to see you!"

Snitch blinked at her, his mouth open, eyes wide, face filled with startled anguish.

Lute realized her mistake too late, and decided that since it had been started, she might as well finish it. "I love you, Snitch. You know that. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. But I think it would be better if you had no contact with the child."

"Why?" he asked, sounding so pitiful that Lute had to fight to keep from giving in to him.

"Because I don't want scandal hovering over my child's head. If I get married to Mr. Alders, and you keep coming around to visit the baby, I would have a lot of trouble keeping our relationship a friendly one. Snitch, I…" She grabbed him and embraced him tightly. "Snitch, believe me! I do this for the child! I want to be with you, but I also want my baby to survive! And the needs of my child are greater than my own."

He caressed her hair, and the immense sadness in the room was almost palpable. "I understand." he said softly, and the words were so caring and gentle that Lute burst into tears. He comforted her until the sobbing slowed, then kissed her sweetly on the mouth.

"I's still gonna take da job." He told her. "Da room is mine as soon as I make enough money for Mistah Joseph, which'll prob'ly take two weeks."

Lute nodded, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "All right. I hope you do well."

He kissed her again, longer this time. "I… write me, Lute. Lemme know how t'ings go, a'right?"

"Promise. Every month."

"Twice a month." Snitch urged, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Neither wanted to be the first to cry.

"I guess you'll go now?" Lute said quietly.

"Nothin' left for me ta say. So I will." He went to the window and opened it. Scrambling back onto the tree branch, he looked at Lute. "I love you."

She nodded, unable to say anything due to the lump in her throat. He understood and started to climb down the tree.

Mr. Jameson Alders, from his room above Lute's, saw Snitch leave her room, start to climb down the tree, then just stop.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Alders cried, not because the boy had emerged from Lute's room, but because the boy's face looked so frighteningly desolate.

Snitch looked up at Mr. Alders and smiled slightly. "So youse Mistah Aldahs, I presume. Youse a lucky man. Enjoy 'er."

Then he let go of the tree branch and fell to the ground far below, like a pebble falling into a long-empty well.

It was lucky Mr. Alders had seen this. If not for him, Snitch would have certainly died.

As soon as Alders saw the desperate boy fall, he called for his quickest servant to go find him and bring him inside. He told the fastest talker to call for a doctor. And he told his newest servant, hired as a caretaker to Lute, to go and talk with the girl.

"I want to know who that boy is, what he's doing here, and why he threw himself from that tree. Find it out." He'd told the portly woman with her salt-and-pepper hair, who'd simply nodded meekly and hustled to Lute's room.

When the portly woman returned to Alders, she was having trouble keeping the dreamy, romantic look from her dark blue eyes. "Ms. Lute says that the boy is the father of the child. His name is Snitch and he came to take her back to Manhattan. She refused so she could keep her baby alive, because he's a newsboy and wouldn't have the money." The fact that she adored the romantic drama of it all shone in her face. "It's all so bittersweet, Mr. Alders!"

But Alders was too busy thinking to hear her final comment.

Snitch ended up with a broken arm, a few cracked ribs, and a large cut from his temple to his chin, thanks to a jutting tree branch. But he would survive, the doctor said, and Alders was happy to hear this.

After the doctor left, Lute was brought downstairs, completely unaware of the entire thing. She was certain that Mr. Alders had seen Snitch going down the tree and was angry enough to want to punish her. When she entered the main room, dressed in her nightgown and robes, an ashamed look on her face, Alders had to smile. She looked like a little girl. If not for the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts, Alders would have been convinced that's all she was.

"Lute, I'm afraid I have some news for you."

"Are you sending me home because of Snitch?" she asked quietly. Her voice sounded torn, as if she both wanted to go home, and didn't want to.

"No, but this is about… Snitch. Is that his real name?"

Lute shook her head. "No. His real name is Daniel. My mother calls him Danny."

"Do you mind if I call him that?"
"I don't. He might though." She paused. "Have you spoken with him?"

Alders hesitated. "No. He's been unconscious since Mr. Talbert went to get him."

The guilt on Lute's face disappeared immediately, replaced by lover's panic. "What's wrong? What happened? Is he all right? Please say he's all right!"

Alders raised his hands to quiet her. "He's fine. The doctor says he'll live."

"What happened?"

"He…" Alders wavered for a moment, trying to decide if he should tell the girl that Snitch had thrown himself from the tree. How would she react to that? "He fell from the tree." Her face paled, and her fingers flew to her face, dug into her cheeks. Alders sighed. She deserved to know. "He fell on purpose."

Lute wobbled on her feet for a moment before steadying herself, and Alders smiled again. Ben McDonaghey's daughter would never faint, at least not in front of others. "Is he really all right?"

"He broke a few things and cut his face open…" Alders winced when she started to totter again and cursed himself for putting it that way, "but I already told you, the doctor says he'll be fine."
"Can I see him?" Lute asked, keeping her face down, trying to concentrate on the floor so that she wouldn't fall over. Alders nodded slightly.

"Yes. He's over this way." He took her by the arm and led her to the sitting room where Snitch lay on a long, scarlet chair, his hands resting on his chest. Alders felt her tense up when she saw the bandages, the one on his head tinted crimson, but was surprised when she didn't run to him. She let him lead her to Snitch, and then she slowly but surely knelt down next to the unconscious boy, rested her arms on his chest and her head on her arms, and fell asleep.

Alders had Mr. Talbert light a fire in the fireplace, then he lit a pipe for himself and watched the youths sleep until the first light of morning had appeared over the horizon.

Snitch awoke before Lute the next morning, and complained about how much pain he was in, for the most part, but when he saw Lute's rosy face sleeping on his chest, he quieted, and allowed Alders to talk with him.

"Why did you throw yourself out of the tree?"

"'Cause seein' youse made me t'ink dat I'd nevah see Lute again. An' I can't do dat, Mistah Aldahs."

"Why can't you?"

"'Cause I's in love wit' her."

"Are you? Or are you just telling yourself you are?"

"I am." Snitch nodded slightly, winced, and rested his head against the pillow. "T'inkin' 'bout her takin' care of dat baby, livin' in dis nice house, wit' youse…" He paused. "Ev'ryone callin' her 'Missus Aldahs'… I t'ink dat one hoit da most. 'Missus Lute Aldahs'."

"You would rather she had your last name?"

Snitch smiled at that, displaying rather large, and very bright teeth. "I'd like dat. Listen to it 'Missus Lute Riccio'. Sounds nice, doan it?"

Alders smiled back. "Very nice indeed. How are you feeling, Danny? Do you mind if I call you that?"

Snitch shrugged. "Doan care. But I guess I's feelin' okay. Am I gonna live, Mistah Aldahs?"

Alders smiled and stood up, stretching slightly. "I think you will, Mr. Riccio. If you want to."

When Lute awoke, she embraced Snitch tightly, then immediately started scolding him for being 'such an idiot'.

"What did you think you were trying to prove? You think it's going to help anything if you're dead? I oughta kill you! But you'd like that wouldn't you? You probably want me to, you idiot!" She chided harshly, but Alders and his servants, watching from the doorway, could all see the tenderness in her eyes, and the smile lighting on Snitch's lips as she admonished him. They were used to this.

This was their way of showing affection.

Alders shut the door on them and shooed his servants away.

"Let them be." he told them, before moving up to his study.

The servants exchanged glances with one another, then hurried about their work.

Alders returned to the sitting room to fetch Lute for lunch, and found Snitch sitting up and holding her as best he could with one arm. Both teens flushed and Lute moved away.

Alders smiled. "Lute, it's time for lunch. Go change, then come and join me. I'll have Talbert bring you something, Mr. Riccio."

As he turned to leave, Alders heard Snitch snicker. "I likes it when he calls me dat."

Lute appeared at the lunch table in a dress that Alders recognized as his mother's, and this made him smile.

"Do you like it here, Lute?" he asked as she started to eat.

She hesitated before asking. "It's very nice here, Mr. Alders. I miss my family and my friends, but your servants are very friendly, and the house itself is interesting and comfortable."

"Do you like me?"

Lute blushed. "What are you asking, Mr. Alders? We haven't even set a date yet."

Alders laughed. "I don't mean are you sweet on me. That's a silly question. It's very obvious you have your heart set on Mr. Riccio." Lute smiled sheepishly, and Alders continued. "I mean do you consider me a friend?"

"You make me laugh, Mr. Alders. That's all that matters."

"Would you like living here? With your child?"

"If my family and friends could visit, I'd love to live here." She was smiling, but the lack of deepening lines under her eyes showed the lie in her words. She wanted to be where Snitch was.

"I've been thinking, Lute." Alders began. "Ever since Mr. Riccio appeared in my yard last night, I've been thinking. And I've come to a decision.

"This is a large house. Even with all the servants, it's possible to find yourself alone most of the time.

"I am not a young man. I'm not saying I'm old, exactly," he chuckled, "But I'm not young enough to feel comfortable married to a sixteen year-old."

Lute blinked at him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm asking if you'd like to stay here with me. And Mr. Riccio too. I've arranged for a minister to come here in two weeks, and, if you like, I can have him marry you and Mr. Riccio." Alders smiled. "I'm sure he wants to help raise the child. He wouldn't have walked all the way from Manhattan if he hadn't wanted to."

Lute could only stare at Alders in shock. Her voice had disappeared.

Alders smiled and stood. "You think it over. Come and tell me what you think when you can."

He left her sitting there, her round, rosy face filled with utter astonishment.

Needless to say, as soon as Lute had control of her limbs, she ran to find Alders and tell him that was what she wanted.

Two weeks later, the bandage on his head gone, Snitch Riccio was married to Lute McDonaghey. It was a happy occasion, and Alders even sent a coach down to Manhattan to retrieve Snitch's friends so they could be there on this exciting day. Of course, Alders eventually regretted this decision; one hundred or so teenage boys all in one general area are never exactly a good thing.

But Snitch was happy. And Lute was happy. So Alders was happy as well.

The baby came in late January, right on schedule. Both Lute and the baby survived, although Snitch, waiting in the sitting room during the birth, seemed ready to pass out with anxiety. Alders was amused by the boy's colorless face and twitching limbs, but when Lute's caretaker came downstairs to get them, her face flushed with pleasure, telling them that it was a baby boy and 'Mr. Riccio' should be very proud, the complete and simple joy on Snitch's face was priceless.

Both teenagers were good parents, discarding a few arguments and anxiety attacks on Lute's part, and once Snitch found a good, steady job, they were able to move out on their own.

They named the baby Daniel Jameson Riccio.

There is no more story to tell, except that the Riccio's were a happy family. Once the parents came of a better age, they had more children, four total.

And they lived happy ever after, 'till the end of their days.

Discarding, of course, a few arguments and anxiety attacks on Lute's part.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

I hit number 100! Wooo!

Yeah, if you add up the total stories from , and both my FictionPress accounts, I've got 100 stories!

**dances**

Anyhoo…

I was so paranoid this is gonna completely Mary-Sue. I still am. I really hope it's not, 'cause I actually like this. it was fun to write. ^_^;

Okay, I've got band practice now. ^_^ Bye!

P.S. ONE HUNDRED!