“Morning. Tuesday morning. All th’ gates’re closed.”

Ron scrambled to his feet. “No, it can’t be! I’ve got to get out of here.”

“You can’t,” Sylvia said flatly. She got up and stood beside Ron. “Nobody gets out now. Not ’til next summer.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. Hard. “You did this to me! First you robbed me and now you’ve locked me up in here!”

She wasn’t scared. And if his grip hurt her, she didn’t let him see it.

“I ain’t gonna let nobody get me put in th’ Tombs,” Sylvia said. “I like you, Ron. I toldja that before, right? But you was jest gonna get both of us into th’ Tombs. Them hardtops down at th’ gates don’t listen to nobody that ain’t got an ID.”

He let her go and turned to stare at the window. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he muttered.

“Not now,” Sylvia said. “Not ’til next summer. And you gotta get yer ID off Dino before he sells it.”

Ron looked sharply at her.

“I gotta get Davey,” Sylvia said.

She left him alone in the grimy, crumbling room. Ron walked slowly to the window. There was nothing to see through its gray-filmed panes except the cracked, stained back wall of another brick building.

His mind was spinning. I can’t stay here for a year! There must be some way out. Dad will get the police to come in and look for me. Got the National Exams . . . got to make my Career vector choice . . .

He turned and looked toward the open door. Sylvia! It’s all her fault. But his mind kept picturing her face, her body, how it felt to hold her, how much he wanted to be holding her right now. She saved my life. And if the Tombs are as bad as she says they are . . .

Then a different thought came to him. He tried to picture what his mother and father would do if he brought Sylvia home. Ron couldn’t imagine what they’d do. Except that he knew they wouldn’t let her stay. They’d turn her over to the police. That’s just what they’d do. Maybe she really is better off here.

But he shook his head. Here? Looking around the littered, filthy, bare, bug-infested room, Ron could hardly believe it. The jails back home are better than this.

Sylvia came back at last, pulling Davey along with one hand and carrying a bag of food in the other. They sat on the floor together, the three of them, while she handed out rolls and cheese and plastic cups of something that was supposed to be coffee. It was warm, not hot, and it tasted like machine oil.

“Where did you get this?” Ron asked.

Sylvia munched on a bite of roll and answered thickly, “Downstairs. First floor. Al’s got a big stack of food an’ stuff. Leftovers from th’ tourists.”

Stolen, Ron knew. But it was the best meal he’d ever had.

He wolfed down the food greedily, thinking about beggars and choosers.

“We gotta get Al t’ let you in th’ gang,” Sylvia said. “Otherwise yer gonna be in tough shape.”

“The gang?”

“Al’s gang. He’s th’ boss. He’s out someplace on th’ turf right now. Be back t’night.”

“And what do I do all day?”

“Stay here. Dino’s around, an’ if he knows yer here he’ll start in on you again. He likes t’ lean on people.”

“Dino hits hard,” Davey said, in his high little voice. “He hits me when I’m bad.”

Ron stared at the child, then looked up at Sylvia. “He hits Davey?”

She nodded, her face grim. “That’s why I want th’ two of you t’ stay right here all day. No trouble if you stay here.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be around. Hafta go out this afternoon fer a while, get some food. Wish that damned ’frigerator worked. I could put food in there instead a goin’ out twice a day.”

Ron said, “Maybe I can fix it. Are there any tools around?”

Davey scrambled to his feet. “I know! There’s big tools inna basement, next t’ th’ furnace. Eddie and me seen ’em when we was playin’ down there!”

“Let’s take a look at them.” Ron started to get up.

Sylvia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No—you stay right here. Davey, you go down an’ get all th’ tools you can carry. Bring ’em up here. But don’t tell nobody Ron’s up here. Unnerstand?”

Davey nodded eagerly. His big dark eyes went from Sylvia to Ron. “Okay. I be quiet.” He looked very serious and excited at the same time.

So Ron spent the morning taking the refrigerator apart. It kept his mind busy, kept him from thinking about what was happening back home, thinking about his father, his mother, the Examiner. He just worked on the refrigerator and tried to keep his mind blank.

Davey squatted on the kitchen floor next to him, hardly saying a word, watching intently. He took in every move that Ron made, until Ron felt that the child could have copied everything he did, move for move.

Sylvia left in the afternoon. By then, Ron had figured out what was wrong with the refrigerator. It was simply dirt. The motor was very old, but still good. It was just clogged with dust and greasy grime. Davey found some plastic sheets that were almost as dirty as the motor itself, and they used the sheets to clean the motor, piece by piece. Davey helped, although Ron had to redo almost every piece the boy worked on.

By mid-afternoon the refrigerator was humming smoothly and getting cold.

“We did it!” Davey shouted.

Ron grinned and rubbed a hand through the boy’s curly black hair.

The afternoon heat was getting fierce. The little kitchen was like a furnace. Ron went into the other room, and for the first time he saw that there was an air-conditioner set into a niche below the window.

“Hey Davey, bring those tools in here.”

It was dark by the time they finished. The air-conditioner’s main problem was also dirt. But there was also a bad coil in the motor and a couple of loose connections. Ron and Davey sneaked up to an empty room on the next floor and stole pieces from the air-conditioner there.

“Now don’t tell Sylvia we left the apartment,” Ron said to Davey. “She’ll get upset.”

Davey grinned a huge grin. “Okay Ron. It’s a secret. Right?”

Ron nearly got sick when he saw Davey’s grin. The boy’s teeth were almost all rotted black stumps.

By the time Sylvia came back the rooms were cooled off, and Ron’s stomach was growling with hunger. She looked surprised as she came through the doorway, carrying a plastic bag in one arm.

“It’s cool in here!” she said, delighted. “Howdja do it?”

Davey bounded up to her. “We fixed th’ ’frigimader and we fixed the air commissioner. Ron an’ me!”