As soon as they woke up the next day, it was time to hit the road. They would have had breakfast breakfast, but they had eaten all the food the night before. Chloe was about to start the car's engine when she said, over the sound of buzzing from the bees in the box on the roof, 'Oops. We almost forgot our disguises.'

'Oh, right,' said Jennifer. She popped open the glove compartment and out fell two fake black beards. 'Here you go,' she said, giving one of the beards to Chloe and keeping one for herself. They put them on.

'At night,' Chloe started to explain to Matthew, 'nobody can see inside the car. But during the day, that's another story. Whoever's in the front must wear the beards because we're too young. Too young to drive and too young to sit in the passenger's seat. The beards help us make us look older so we don't get pulled over by the cops and into trouble.'

'Wearing the beards,' said Norman, 'to make us look older was what gave us the idea of infiltrating Bordash Manor as retirees.'

'Your fake faces,' said Matthew, as Chloe started the engine and stepped on the gas, 'were very good. Was it difficult to make them?'

'If we had proper theatrical supplies, prosthetics, it would have been a lot easier,' said Jennifer. 'We just can't afford any of that stuff. Instead, we used all sorts of things. We used newspapers, making it into paper-mache, five-year-old flour, food scraps, dirt, berries – for colour – the list is endless.'

'Slink, as usual, was the mastermind of making the disguises,' said Norman. 'We helped, though.'

'What about the wigs?' asked Matthew.

'We found those in a dumpster in Spring Heights,' said Chloe. 'Same goes for these beards.'

'Mostly all the things we have, our possessions,' said Jennifer, 'were discarded, thrown out by their previous owners.'

'There's nothing wrong with reusing what others have thrown out,' said Matthew. 'I did that many times when I was living at my father's shop.'

'How did you like our voices?' John asked Matthew.

'I thought Jennifer, Chloe and Norman's were very good,' Matthew answered with a grin.

Chloe, Jennifer and Norman laughed.

'You didn't like mine?' said John.

'It was a bit over the top,' said Chloe. Jennifer and Norman agreed with that description.

'Phooey. You're all crazy,' said John. 'You wouldn't know talent if it hit you over your heads.'

Matthew was very much still tired, even though he just had the best sleep in his live, and about ten minutes into their journey to Spring Heights, he closed his eyes and was out like a log. The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake.

'Wakey, wakey.' John was doing the shaking. 'We're here. We're home.'

'How long was I asleep for?' asked Matthew, yawning. The sun was beating down on his face.

'Three hours,' said Norman, now in the driver's seat and wearing a black beard.

Matthew yawned again and looked out the window at the city of Spring Heights. He had never been to a big city before. Hundreds of tall buildings reached into the air as if they were pillars holding up the sky, and although it was really early in the morning, cars clogged the streets and people crammed the sidewalks.

With Norman turning right at a stop sign, Matthew asked, 'So, how many are in your group?'

'There are twenty-two of us,' said Norman.

'Wrong,' said John. 'There are twenty-three of us now.'

Smiling, Matthew said, 'Does everyone do what you four do . . . go out and rescue children?'

'Apart from Slink, no,' said Jennifer. 'The others are too young. However, they help in many other ways. So that you know, Matthew, what we do is a secret.'

'My lips are sealed,' said Matthew. He didn't know anyone he could tell anyway.

Norman turned the car down a side street and stopped by the curb right outside the entrance to a park. A sign read 'Whatever-grows and Wherever Park'. The name was fitting for the place was overgrown with grass, flowers, weeds, bushes and trees. Maybe that was the idea.

'We just call it Whatever-grows Park,' said Jennifer.

Matthew then watched Norman look all around, as if to make sure the coast was clear. When it seemed like it was, he drove up onto the curb and into the park, going a short distance down a walking path before entering some bushes. Many ups and downs, lefts and rights later, they came to stop inside a mass of pine trees.

'This is where we hide the car,' said Chloe. 'We could leave it parked on the streets but who knows what could happen to it. It could get broken into, stolen, or the cops could find it, see that we have fake license plates and impound it.'

'Is your home . . . I mean . . . our home around here?' asked Matthew, as they got out.

'Follow us,' said Norman.

Matthew followed the others out of the trees, down a slope and to the opening of a large storm drain. Soon, he was splashing through inch-high water and jumping over rats. Daylight was seeping through the holes and cracks of the many manhole covers above.

'A lot of rats, hey?' Matthew said nervously. He didn't like rats.

'You have no idea,' said Jennifer. 'You'll appreciate the amount soon enough, though.'

Answering Matthew's confusion, John said, 'We've eaten rats to survive on many occasions. It's usually in the winter when money is running low, the vegetables grown in the summer have been eaten and when the fish don't feel like biting.'

A small boy with sand on his face popped out around a bend up ahead. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of Matthew. Then, he screamed bloody murder as he ran away.

'That was Ramon,' said Jennifer, looking slightly embarrassed. 'He's one of us.'

'What's wrong with him?' asked Matthew, thinking there must be something.

'There's nothing wrong with him,' laughed John. 'If any one of us sees someone we don't know or someone that might be dangerous in the storm drain, we're supposed to quietly warn the others at home. Clearly quietly to Ramon is screaming.'

As they continued on, Matthew asked about eating rats and it was quite a long subject. Ten minutes later, after making their way through the maze underneath the streets and buildings of Spring Heights, they were still talking about it. Matthew was told how they were killed, which was by slingshot, and where the best place for rats was, as it had the most ('There are so many of them you don't even have to aim your slingshot,' said Chloe). John spent five minutes talking about the two-foot long rat he once killed and how he used its pelt to make a belt.

Matthew was so entranced by what they were saying he didn't realize they had walked back out into the sunshine until it got him right in the eyes.

They had exited the storm drain and were now standing on a beach of sand and pebbles in a tiny cove surrounded by shear high cliffs. Beyond the cove was the ocean, waves twinkling like stars, and just inside, a half-sunken, rusting boat (a tugboat, perhaps) lay in its shallow watery grave. A tree was growing out from its stern.

Suddenly, John yelled something very strange, 'Pistachios are utterly lovely.'

'It's a passphrase,' explained Jennifer. 'It tells everyone that everything's all right.'

Tells everyone, Matthew wondered? There was nobody around. But then he saw a boy on the bow of the half-sunken boat, a telescope in his hands. A short time later, a rowboat appeared and it headed for the beach. A girl and boy were manning its oars.

'Do you live on the boat?' asked Matthew.

'Oh yes,' Norman said with pride. 'Been living there since that maple tree growing on it was three quarters that size.'

'We tap it, you know,' said John, 'the tree. We don't make maple syrup, we just drink the sap. It's so good. Especially after a long winter.' He licked his lips.

The boy and girl jumped out of the rowboat the instant it touched the beach, their very curious eyes on Matthew. The boy had a scar on his chin and the girl was covered in black smudges.

John went over to them and ruffled their hair in a brotherly way. 'How's it going?'

'Good,' said the boy.

'Who's this?' The boy gestured to Matthew.

'This is Matthew. He's the boy we rescued,' said John. The boy and girl's faces brightened up at this. 'Matthew, this is Ted and Stacy.'

'Hello,' said Matthew. 'Nice to meet you.'

As they climbed into the rowboat, John asked, 'Is everyone up?'

'Barely. And they've just started to make breakfast,' said Stacy, and they all set off.

The half-sunken boat seemed to get rustier and rustier as they got closer and closer, but it also seemed to get bigger and bigger. From one of the few pipes sticking out of the only cabin, smoke floated out. Letters, faint outlines of rust, spelled out the name of the boat . . . Harrower.

The boy Matthew had seen on the bow was waiting for them around the port side. His eyes were covered with the thickest of glasses.

'Jennifer, Chloe, Norman, John,' said the boy, catching the rope Jennifer had thrown to him. 'Glad you're back.' He tied the rowboat up.

'Phil, so are we,' said John.

The cabin of the Harrower was an incredible sight to see. Thirty or so hammocks swung from the ceiling or between wooden posts dotted all around. There was a row of fishing poles on one side and a row of at least ten long bushy brushes on the other. At the far end stood a great big wood stove, flames flickering through its grate, and next to it was a long table with chairs.

What contributed to the incredible sight the most, however, were all the children. Some were sitting or lying down on the hammocks, a few were cooking (Matthew could smell fish and bacon), others were tying hooks to fishing lines, some were getting bowls from a cabinet, and a couple were hanging wet clothes onto a clothing line that twisted all around.

When John closed the cabin door behind them with a loud clunk, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look. Chloe, Jennifer, Norman and John's presence made them all smile. Before Matthew knew it, they were all looking at him.

A frail-looking boy with hair long in places and short in others came over.

'Slink?' John said to the boy. 'What happened to your hair?'

So this is the Slink. The one who knows everything about everything. Matthew had pictured him quite differently.

'Amy . . . that's what happened to my hair,' the boy replied, putting on a jokingly angry face. 'She said she could do it, but clearly she couldn't.' He put a hand through his hair. 'Others offered to fix it, but I wasn't taking that chance.'

'Why didn't you just wait until I got back?' said Jennifer.

'I didn't know when that was going to be and my hair was starting to annoy me,' Slink replied. He then turned to Matthew and sized him up. 'So, you've come to join our band of merry orphaned children?'

'I have,' said Matthew.

'Excellent.'

Matthew was then introduced to everyone else, all of whom were so glad he was there. There were the smaller kids: Astrid, Brock, Ralphy, Xavier, Henry and Emily. The taller kids: Art, Dori and Elnor. The two sets of twins: Joe and Leo, and Lorraine and Matilda. And there was the screaming boy from the storm drain: Ramon.

They all then gathered at the table, where Chloe told what happened at Bordash Manor and of Matthew's safe-cracking skills.

'That Miss Thorn is not very nice,' said a young girl whose name Matthew had already forgotten. Remembering everyone's name was going to take some time.

John took out Miss Thorn's wad of cash and threw it on the table, making the cabin roar with shock. 'We think it could be real.'

Slink picked up the cash and started inspecting it. 'Where did you get it?'

'Miss Thorn donated it to us,' said Matthew. 'If it's real, that is.'

'Is it real, Slink?' Norman asked.

Slink just nodded with a smile, sending the cabin into fits. 'This could help us a lot. We could take a break from our job – you know, do the jobs we already have lined up, of course, but don't take any more -- and instead put the time and energy that we save into increasing our chances of winning Long Street.'

Except for Matthew, who had no idea what Slink was talking about, everyone eagerly agreed, John even more so.

'All right . . . all right,' said Chloe, hushing the noise up.

Raising his hand, Matthew said quickly, 'Can I just say something?'

'Sure,' said Chloe.

'I just want to say thank you,' said Matthew, 'Thank you for rescuing me and thank you for letting me join you. I truly appreciate it.'

There were loud hoots and hollers.

'Welcome to our family,' someone shouted, and there were more hoots and hollers.

For Matthew, that was nice to hear.

'Now, let's have some food,' said Norman.

Over a long breakfast, Matthew came to know more and more about his new family and was told of the story of how Chloe, Jennifer, Norman and John came to know of Mr Sterling's criminal empire. They were kidnapped off the streets of Spring Heights and forced to make high-end counterfeit purses on the fourth floor of a warehouse outside of the city. The man who was in charge of the operation liked to talk, telling the four of them all about Mr Sterling. Matthew really enjoyed hearing how they escaped. Using material and their sewing machines, they secretly made a snare and trapped the man before fleeing.

Also over breakfast, John got to tell Slink about the bees, and they decided they would build a proper hive for them and keep it in Whatever-grows Park.

'What's this about winning – what was it – Long Street?' asked Matthew, after taking the last bite of his bacon sandwich.

'First off,' said Chloe, from the other side of the table, 'Long Street is a street in Spring Heights and it's where Mr Sterling lives. It's extremely important to have access to it so we can tap his phone line.'

'Ahhh,' said Matthew, 'that's how you find out where children are.'

Eating with his mouthful, John said, 'To gain access to Long Street you have to win it.'

'Wait . . . wait,' said Norman. 'Maybe we should tell him about the territories first . . . the gangs.'

Matthew's eyes widened.

'Good idea,' said Chloe. 'That's very important to know. Well there are three territories of street children in Spring Heights. You have one in the north that belongs to the Mongraw Gang.' There were murmurs of fear around the table. 'Violent bullies and thieves, they are.'

'The first time on the streets here, when I didn't know about the territories,' said Jennifer, 'I was chased by them, having wondered into their territory. Thankfully I outran them.'

'She was very lucky, Matthew,' said Slink, in all seriousness. 'What they do to children they capture in their territory isn't very nice.'

Chloe continued on. 'You then have the Westies. They control the west, hence the name. They're not as bad as the Mongraw Gang but they're still bad. Like the Mongraw Gang they don't like children coming onto their patch, and they steal. But unlike the Mongraw Gang, they don't really go looking for fights, which is a slight comfort.'

'The Mongraw Gang and the Westies hate each other, by the way,' said John, 'but there is peace between them . . . if you can call it that.'

'The last territory,' said Chloe, 'which we're in, is the Free Territory and it encompasses the rest of the city. Street children can do as they please here. The bad thing though is that the Mongraw Gang and the Westies are allowed in it too. There's a Chancellor of the Free Territory who's voted for every year, but it's a really useless position.'

Laughter suddenly erupted all around.

'Thanks very much,' said Norman.

'I'm guessing you're the Chancellor,' Matthew said to him.

'That's me.' Norman began to laugh as well.

'What does a Chancellor do?' asked Matthew.

'I organize events and settle disputes inside the Free Territory.'

'You don't settle disputes when the Mongraw Gang or the Westies are involved, which are plenty,' said John.

'The Chancellor, going back years, has never done that for good reason,' said Norman. 'My predecessors didn't want their heads smashed in and I don't want my head smashed in.'

'It wasn't always like that,' said Slink. 'The Chancellor of the Free Territory used to have sway amongst the Westies and the Mongraw Gang. We should be so grateful that the cart races were set up during that period.'

'Cart races?' said Matthew.

'Long Street,' said Slink, 'was once a marsh where all three territories converged. The marsh was filled in and a street lined with ritzy shops and posh row houses were built. It became, and still is to this day, the richest part of the city where street children can go and find whatever they want, as throwing away perfectly good things is a hobby there. That's the major reason why, back then, a dispute between the territories of who should get the street erupted. It almost turned into a war, but the Chancellor of the Free Territory at the time came up with a brilliant idea that everyone agreed to, preventing one. His idea was to race homemade carts down a hill, only using gravity – it was very popular back then – and hold races every month and a half. And whoever wins the race is made king or queen of Long Street, deciding who can come and go.'

'See the wheels over there, Matthew?' said Norman. There were dozens of wheels of various shapes and sizes stacked in the corner. 'We collect as many as we can find because wheels are the most important part of a cart.'

Matthew was intrigued. 'And these carts . . . what are they made from?'

'You can use anything,' said John. 'Although, children usually start out with wooden crates and build on them.'

'Carts can get quite elaborate,' said Jennifer. 'We would show you ours, but we don't keep them here.'

'How many do you have?' asked Matthew.

'We have and race five,' said Jennifer. 'Slink, Norman, Astrid, Ramon and I are the drivers.'

'But with the money Miss Thorn kindly donated,' said John, 'we're going to have more time to build others, right?'

'You mean more time to build one for you,' said Chloe.

'Well, if you say so,' grinned John.

'The next racing cart will be for the next driver who can drive the best,' said Slink.

'Sorry, John,' said Norman, 'you're out of luck then.'

'Oh, har, har,' said John. 'I just need to practice a few times and I'll be a hundred times better than any of you.'

'Whatever you say.'

Norman and John looked as if they were about to argue when Slink jumped in, 'The fact is, we're going to build more carts, and if John is the better driver when the next one is built, he'll get to race it.'