me in front of a building with broken-up walls and bars on the windows. The sun glares in my eyes the moment I walk out. A giant billboard overlooks the block with a realtor's face on it, an old dude with a butt-chin and a plastic smile. Someone spray-painted a curly mustache and devil horns on him. The guys and I used to do stuff like that, but I was always the one shitting my pants and keeping lookout because I was terrified of Dad finding out. On our side of town, vandalism like that's always covered up within a week anyway. I wonder how long the realtor has looked like that.

It's not like I've never been to the west end—this is a common travel route when we leave the city for games, but I've never explored this area, so I have no idea where to go or what to look for—but I do know who to look for.

If our roles were reversed, and I'd lost something that looks important to me, I'd want Lucy to get it back to me. It's the right thing to do, right? I found her box a few days ago, and since I'm done my homework and have a night off hockey, Mom and Dad didn't protest me going out. I don't know how stoked Lucy's gonna be to see me (if I can even find her), and a lump forms in my throat. Well, I'm already here, so... game time.

The fluorescent signs of the shops are faded and flickering, like they were made in the seventies or something. A group of guys in front of a church smoke cigarettes and glare at me like I'm fresh meat. Homeless dudes ask me for change as I walk, but I only carry my debit, so I have nothing to give them.

Man, I'm so out of my element, it's not even funny. An hour passes as I walk down street after street and peek into alleys, looking for any sign of the girl from last week. By the time the sun sets, I realize how dumb this is. I'm never gonna find her aimlessly walking around. My head hurts from how cold my ears are, so I sit on a bench to take a breather.

Lucy has a distinct voice, one that hasn't left my head since the night I met her. It's soft and melodic, but her tone is harsh and defensive—so when I hear it, I know it's her. My heart jumps as I rush toward the sound, and there she is, standing in an alleyway.

The first thing I notice is that she's wearing the jacket I gave her. Long brown hair spills over the letters of my last name, and it's three times too big for her small body. The second is that two guys are hovering over her.

Oh, fuck.

"Hey Loosey." The big guy elbows her. "Haven't seen you around here in a while, huh?"

"Nice coat," the thin one says. "Where'd you afford to get that?"

The big one holds her back by her arms while the other unzips the coat, and Lucy squirms. "Guys, stop! You can't take it, it's not mine!"

I dash toward them. "Hey, let her go!"

They drop her, but when their stares fall on me, their laughs echo through the alley.

"Junior?" Lucy's eyes go round. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!"

I skid to a halt as my pulse thuds. Okay, calm down—this isn't the movies. They aren't gonna murder me in public, but they do make the hockey team's verbal bullets feel like they'd been fired from a Nerf gun. I don't stand a chance, but I'm obviously not letting them touch her.

"Leave her alone," I say, but my voice shakes. Worst hero act of all time.

"Or what?"

They approach me, and I slip past them in front of Lucy. Together, we step farther back into the alley. The big guy has a crooked scar down his bald head, and giant spacers stretch his earlobes to the size of golf balls, so if he attacks me maybe I'll rip one of those. As for the skinny one, I'll try to kick out his knees if he dives at me, but something tells me this'll be different than a hockey fight.

"Didn't know you had a boyfriend, Loosey," the big guy says. "Let's see what's in the pockets."

"You're an athlete, right?" Lucy whispers.

"What?" I whisper back.

"Run."

"Wait—what?"

"I said—run!"

Lucy dashes away. The guys pounce at me, so I chase after her. I weave through the back alley like it's a maze and follow Lucy as she slips behind each corner. She's way faster than she looks, but I catch up in a few strides. The guys' footsteps thunder behind us. She flings herself over a metal fence and onto a concrete ledge of a building, and climbing after her, I follow along the wall.

"This way." She latches onto a ladder that leads up a building with boarded-up windows. "Hurry up, Junior."

The ladder wobbles under our weight, but I focus on Lucy's butt in front of my face. I don't know where she's taking me, but this thing better hold out—Dad will kill me if I die in some freak accident.

At the top of the building, Lucy cranks open a window and slips inside. I tumble in after her, where it stinks like mildew. My feet creak against the rickety wooden floor as I balance myself.

"We didn't have to run," I say, chest heaving. "I could've taken them." Okay, bullshit. Two on one just isn't fair, even if neither of those dudes were in shape.

"Are you an idiot?" Lucy asks between breaths and punches my shoulder. "Do you have any idea what guys like that are capable of? You reek like a little rich boy, Elliot! They would have knocked you out and stolen all your shit right there. They could have knifed you, for fuck's sake."

"Are they that dangerous? I feel like a pussy, I could've at least said something, or—" I stop myself, because Lucy is shaking. Her teeth chatter and her knees tremble as she faces her back to me. "Hey, you okay?"

"It's nothing. Back off, I'm fine."

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Stop asking."

For some idiot reason, I try to touch her—and she lashes at me. She swats my arm away, but then her face goes red, and she skitters over to a floral couch covered in plastic wrap. Bottom lip trembling, she brings her knees to her chest and hides her eyes with her bangs.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She says nothing.

Feeling awkward, I take in the scenery. We're in an attic, and the sun pours through a triangular window and lights every piece of furniture. Dressers, empty bookshelves, a coffee table with a layer of dust so thick, it coats my whole finger when I swipe at it. But it's the view from the window—the city streets stretching before us—that takes my breath away.

"Whoa," I say, "you can see all of downtown."

"Yeah," she mutters.

There's nothing here that looks like hers, only a denim backpack beside her feet covered in patches of bands like Metallica and Wu-Tang Clan. A violin case rests against the couch while a McDonald's bag is crumpled under a nightstand with a half-eaten white chocolate cookie in it.

"Do you... live here?" I rub the back of my neck. Lucy's still pale, but her body has relaxed a little.

"For now. I just found it today. But if those guys hang out on this block, then looks like I'll have to move on." She crosses her arms. "Now, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

Lucy speaks well—she definitely enunciates better than me, anyway. Do homeless kids go to school?

She taps her foot and glares at me impatiently, so I focus.

"Oh, right. I was looking for you," I say.

"Okay, stalker."

"To give you this." I take out the box. Lucy's eyes widen, and she snatches it from me.

"Did you open it?"

"No."

"Good." She puts it in her backpack. "Thank you. But why would you go through the trouble of tracking me down just to give me some piece of junk?"

"I dunno, it looks personal. Seemed like the right thing to do." And I sort of have nothing better to do with my time, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Okay... thanks."

I look back at the view. "I've only ever seen downtown from my side. It's so different."

"Yeah. This district might look like shit, but it's historic. This was one of the first parts of Godfrey ever built, and it pisses me off that it's been forgotten by the city. The east end is all renovated with shopping malls while we're just... Mini-Marts and broken sidewalks."

"Were you born around here?"

"No."

"Where are you from, then?"

"None of your business. Stop asking so many questions."

"Okay. Sorry."

We're quiet. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I consider sitting on the couch with her, but decide not to.

"So, what're you up to?" I ask. "After that run, I'm starving. Think those guys gave up? I saw a pizza place on the way. I can buy, or you can choose where we go, really, it's up to you, I don't care." Stop talking, idiot.

Lucy's silent, and each second makes me sweat. I wasn't planning on asking, it just came out. I don't know what it is, but something about this girl makes me want to be around her.

"Elliot," she says, "I appreciate this and all, but I think you should go."

"Huh?"

She sighs. "Get out of here, Junior. We don't know each other and we're definitely not friends, so just... go away."

Ouch. Now I feel like a total dipshit, but it was stupid to think she'd want to hang out. My own hockey team doesn't want that. My own best friend doesn't want that.

"Okay. Sorry, I wasn't trying to bug you. Take care, Lucy."

I climb through the window, but as I'm leaving, I hear a faint, "See yah, Junior."