I didn't take my time walking to the Priest Hole, or, as we greasers like to call it, the Piss Hole. Personally, I think that joke is a little immature. Though "Piss Hole" is a pretty spot-on description of the small, run-down diner in downtown Tulsa that serves barely edible food to hoods, whores, and generally shady people.

So why was I going to a place like that? Well, see, I live in an orphanage with a bunch of other kids; have since I was a baby. A few years ago, we fell on some tough times; our headmistress, Miss Peregrine, had to get another job to support us. As it just so happened, she had the luck of getting hired as a waitress at probably the worst place in the entire world. But she will only let us eat the French fries, milkshakes, sodas, and apple slices from there because those are the only things at the Priest Hole that are actually edible. She works there from one in the afternoon till eight at night; after school every day myself and her other wards go there. You'd think that since I have to tutor people for an hour after school every day, I'm usually the last one there. But no; I arrive smack-dab in the middle.

The very first ones who get there are always Claire Densmore and Olive Elephanta. They're both still in elementary school- Olive in 3rd grade and Claire in 1st- so Bronwyn always picks them up and takes them here before going to start her shift at the DX. Anyway, Olive and Claire are the sweetest, most adorable little kids I know. They are very hyper and like to play explorer in the backyard, pretending to fight pirates or dragons and follow a map to some sort of treasure. There is always a map. Olive just simply loves putting her long wavy brown hair in crazy dos and does the same thing to Claire's short blonde curls. The other girls sometimes let them do it to them too; unless they're on a date or want to look good or something.

As I mentioned before, Bronwyn Bruntly works at the DX, an auto repair shop and gas station. She is such a whiz at cars that some people have even thought and spread rumors that she was really a guy. She's not, of course. But she's stronger than most boys I know- including me, of course- and will fight anyone who dares cross her or anyone she cares about. Literally. Once, she beat a guy so bad he landed in the hospital and she landed in the cooler because he said Miss Peregrine was the worst foster mother ever if she turned out "kids like us". Though don't let her toughness fool you; she's really sweet as pie and is pretty much our mother when Miss Peregrine isn't around. She wants to drop out of school as soon as she turns sixteen because she thinks she's stupid; she is usually failing most of her classes. But really she's a hell of a lot smarter than she gives herself credit for; she just needs a little motivation, that's all.

Bronwyn's best friend is Emma Bloom. Honestly, I think Emma's a sellout; every morning, she cakes on makeup, curls her dark blonde hair, puts on a super tight corset under her leather jacket as well as a leather skirt that goes down to knee length- only because Miss Peregrine says that if her skirt were any shorter, she might as well not wear anything at all. This means she takes over an hour to get ready in the morning and she's not even that pretty when she gets out. She lives for boys; she is on a never-ending to find her Prince Charming. Her so-called "quest" really just includes her posing provocatively all over the place.

Emma and Bronwyn's other best friend is Fiona Frauenfield, a silent, wild girl with a heart of pure gold. When she was little, her parents abused her until she was terrified to speak; even now she rarely talks. She spends a ton of time outdoors and has her own garden in the backyard that she doesn't let anyone else touch without her permission. She sews patches and extensions on her own clothes and her long dark brown hair is always tangled and messy beyond belief. She's the free spirit who opened up Hugh Apiston's eyes to the good in the world. And believe me, that is not something anyone else could accomplish.

Hugh Apiston is definitely the scariest guy in our group. Having grown up on the mean streets of New York City and been first arrested at age ten, he's sharp as nails and twice as tough. If you aren't afraid of him, you should be; even the other kids at the orphanage are afraid of him and he's never done anything to hurt us. He's cold and hard and does what he wants- especially when it's not legal. Miss Peregrine and Fiona are the only people who can successfully diffuse him without ending up needing medical attention. I've always been jealous of his hair; it's light brown, and long and thick and greasy, and there's two locks of his hair on either side of the top of his head that refuse to go down; they stick up like some sort of antennae. It is the tuffest hair around. Unfortunately, my hair won't stick up in anyplace.

His best friend, Knock-out O'Connor, is just as crazy as Hugh. Knock-out grew up fast and hard on the streets of New York City too, but the boys never crossed paths until they jumped a train bound for Oklahoma. He obeys rules about as often and carefully as Hugh- which is to say, never and not at all. Knock-out's real name is Enoch, but if anyone ever called him that, he would knock out all their teeth- hence his nickname. I personally like it; I think it suits him; whenever I think of the name "Enoch" I think of a guy with an intimidating, maybe even creepy, surface, but dig a little deeper, you'll find an insanely complex person who doesn't really want hurt anyone; he just does it to survive. Naturally, I've asked him why he doesn't like his name; I always get a variety of responses ranging from "it sounds like a soc's name" to "it just ain't tuff" to "I was named after the worst man to ever live" to "go away before I punch your face in". Knock's eyes can't go unmentioned; they're two different colors; his right eye is a mix between blue and green, like the color of the Pacific Ocean but much darker; his left eye is a dark, muddy brown. Even the fuzz know him apart from all the other hoods by his eyes.

And then there's me: Millard Nullings. Where to start... Well, I'm 14 years old, but since I've skipped a total of two grades in my life, so I'm in tenth grade instead of eighth. I wear leather jackets and grease my thin red hair back because it's tuff, but I'm a different kind of greaser boy; I don't pick fights for no reason and I've never been to jail; I study hard and direct the bulk of my energy to the pursuit of knowledge. I've lived at the orphanage all my life; Miss Peregrine told me that my mother had shown up on the doorstep with me and simply trust me into Miss Peregrine's arms before simply walking away. I'm terrified of socs; I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. But the reason I take my time walking to the Priest Hole is because the way my dear headmistress is treated in there is about a gazillion times worse than any soc.

First, the only way for a waitress to get any tips working at that place is to amp up their sexuality; this means she has to squeeze herself into a tight dress that shows an uncomfortable amount of skin- absurdly low collar and a skirt that barely reaches halfway down the thighs- and black high heels that can't be comfortable to wear sitting down, let alone shuffling around all night, weighed down by trays of food, while guys keep grabbing at her butt and making snide, dirty remarks. What makes Miss Peregrine a true feat is the fact that she does all that while hobbling on a cane; about a year ago, she'd been driving Olive and Claire to some place and they got in an accident; she threw herself across the little girls, who were sitting on the front bench seat. If she hadn't done that, she would've walked away almost completely unscathed, but Olive and Claire would've been seriously injured or maybe even killed; but instead she took the blow, her right leg getting snapped into three places, and Olive and Claire just got a few scrapes and pretty shaken up. She has to cake on so much makeup that you couldn't pick her out in a crowd of whores. Usually, a Priest Hole waitress will wear her hair loose, flowing and dancing around her shoulder; this is where Miss Peregrine draws the line; she puts her long black hair up in a tight bun, which by the time we get there is so messy that entire curls hang down from her head. Her face is worn and exhausted, wrinkles and smile lines and worry lines practically made her face one of those mazes you get on the kids' menu at some places. But she never shows any sign of being tired; it's all worth it to make sure we get the best life we can possibly get. She stands tall and smiles- a fake smile to the customers of the Priest Hole; she reserves her real one for us.

She doesn't deserve the life she has. She doesn't deserve to be watched under a microscope by child services; she's never been anything but good to us. She doesn't deserve to be yelled at by her brother, who always comes around to take his drunken rage out on her. She doesn't deserve to have to work in such dehumanizing conditions so hard for so long that she collapses into the chair next to the front door as soon as she comes into the house. She doesn't deserve the ridicule she gets for taking in kids like Hugh and Knock-out.

It was almost five o'clock when I entered the Priest Hole. The sun was hanging low in the sky and a light breeze was blowing red September leaves down the sidewalk. Shivering, I pulled my jacket tighter around me and went inside.

It was the middle of the Rush; there was not one single empty table and waitresses scrambled and stumbled to fill out all the orders. I couldn't see Miss Peregrine; she must've been in the kitchen. I walked over to our usual booth, which was already occupied by Hugh and Fiona snogging each other's faces off on one side, and Olive, Claire, and Emma on the other side; Claire was coloring with crayons on the paper tablecloth, "beautifying" it, as she always put it, Olive was putting tons of little braids in her hair, two French fries protruded from her upper lip like vampire teeth. Emma was sitting on the edge, batting her eyes flirtatiously at some boys sitting at a table about ten feet away.

"Hey, guys." I slid onto the seat next to Hugh, who looked up from his girlfriend for a second before they continued making out.

"Hi Mill!" Olive said, holding the French fries in place.

"How was tutoring?" Emma asked, her attention momentarily not on the boys at the other table, who seemed disappointed she stopped flirting.

"Good." I shrugged. "Nothing really noteworthy. Lot of freshmen there today; you know, start of high school, don't know how to handle the work load."

"Yeah." Emma leaned on the table, a nostalgic look in her gray eyes. "I remember when I was a freshman; I got tutored by Danny Fetzulberg. What a hunk."

"You think everyone's a hunk!" Hugh said. Him and Fiona were no longer making out, but she was snuggled up against his chest and his arm was around her.

I laughed.

"Hey kid." Someone tapped my shoulder; I looked up and saw Knock-out towering over me.

I stood up. "Oh, sorry, Knock. Didn't know you were outta the cooler." Emma let me slide in on the other side between her and Claire.

"Don't worry 'bout it." The older boy shrugged as he sat down next to his best friend.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be out for two weeks." I raised an eyebrow.

"They know they can't keep me in there." Knock looked around the diner quickly to make sure Miss Peregrine wasn't watching; when he saw she wasn't there, he lit a cigarette and took a drag.

"And he got good behavior." Olive added matter-o-factly, braiding Claire's hair.

Hugh nudged Knock. "She's coming." He whispered.

We all looked up to see our headmistress hobbling around tables, weaving through crowds with a tray of milkshakes, no doubt for us.

Knock quickly hid his cigarette under the table; Miss P would freak if she found out he was smoking again.

Hugh pursed his lips in disgust. "Goddamn Piss Hole. Took all the fun outta hitting on diner waitresses."

Knock nodded in agreement as Miss Peregrine arrived at our table, set down the tray of milkshakes, and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "Mister Apiston, it is not polite to swear in front of ladies and children. And the name of this establishment is the Priest Hole. And Mister O'Connor." She wrapped her arms around Knock as Hugh hung his head. "You've been missed a great deal. Now put that cigarette out this instant."

"Yes'm." Knock dropped his cigarette on the floor and stomped it out with his boot.

"Well," Miss P said, gesturing to the milkshakes, "I brought the ones you like; two chocolate for Miss Densmore and Miss Elephanta, vanilla for Mister Apiston, Strawberry for Miss Frauenfield and Mister Nullings, a peanut butter for Miss Bloom, and, Mister O'Connor, I will be right back with your pistachio."

"Look at my drawing, Miss P!" Claire exclaimed, pointing to her tablecloth drawing with a green crayon.

The rest of us leaned in to look; she had drawn a large house with a big green lawn, several stick figures stood inside the house, each with a name next to it.

"That's very sweet." Miss P smiled fondly, reaching out to touch the picture as if to make sure it was actually there and, by extension, that we were actually there.

"Here, I'll rip it off." Emma picked up the paper and began tearing around the picture, Olive doing the same thing on the other side.

"Hey dollface!" A man a few tables away called out to Miss Peregrine. "Where's my jackin' coffee?"

Knock and Hugh both stood up angrily.

"Hey don't you talk to my mother like that!" Hugh threatened.

Knock then proceeded to yell a long string of profanities, making rude and gestures at the man. Olive and Claire both covered their ears, though, based on Knock's volume, it couldn't have done much.

The man swaggered over to our table. "Fight me."

Hugh glared at him with pure hatred in his cold green eyes. "Good luck; you're gonna need it."

"You have no idea who you're messing with." Knock stepped out of the seat and picked up the man by the collar.

"Boys!" Miss P warned, horrified, but not surprised.

They didn't listen; Hugh stood beside Knock, snarling, "let's take this outside; you wouldn't wanna get your butt kicked in front of all these people, would you?"

"But there's two of you! It ain't a fair fight!" The man said in a pathetically high-pitched voice.

"There's not going to be a fight!" Miss P attempted to release the man from Knock's grasp. People were starting to stare, some excited, some terrified.

"I'll fight with ya, Ern." A pale-haired boy with the worst teeth imaginable stood behind the man-Ern?- and crossed his arms.

"Eh, what's one more notch in our belts." Hugh shrugged.

"Boys! Please! Sit down!" Miss P begged.

"Shut it! We wanna see a fight!" A greaser girl on the other side of the diner shouted, standing on her chair.

The crowd mostly made shouts of agreement. After a few seconds, they were chanting "fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Alright!" Hugh somehow raised his voice above the commotion. "Fight's gonna be outside!" Him, Knock, and the two other guys walked out of the diner, followed by tons of people.

For a second, I thought Miss P was going to cry; but instead, she stood up straight, brushed off some of the flour that had gotten on her uniform, and muttered something to herself.

The noise level died down as the fight moved away from the diner. Miss P went back to work and none of us spoke for several minutes.

When the bell above the door rang, everybody in the diner looked up, no doubt expecting to see someone who was in the fight or someone who'd seen it; instead, it was just Bronwyn. She ran her meaty hands through her short, greasy hair and walked over to us. "Hey. I saw a fight going on outside." She said as she slid in next to Fiona. "Hugh in there?"

I nodded. "Him and Knock-out both."

"Really? He's out of jail already?" Bronwyn raised an eyebrow.

"He got good behavior." Emma explained.

"Now there's a shock." Bronwyn chuckled.

"Meh." I shrugged.

The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow at me, then picked up Hugh's untouched milkshake. "Well if he's gonna get himself arrested tonight, I wouldn't want this to go to waste." She brought the straw to her mouth.

"Rough day at the DX?" Emma asked.

Bronwyn put the milkshake down with an exasperated expression. "Yup; you know ol' Steve; he'll work with the cars until those pretty girls show up, then I'm on my own on over a half-dozen cars."

"My mom told me once that boys are only here to mess with girls." Olive referred to her biological mother, who had passed away when she was four, thereby landing Olive with Miss P.

"She's right." Bronwyn shook her head.

"Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." Emma rose her glass as if it were a toast, then turned back to smiling flirtatiously at the boys at the table a few feet away.

"I don't like to mess with girls." I said. "Although, to be fair, most of the girls I know can't be messed with."

"Can we go to the nightly double?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. Can we?" Olive added.

"I wanna go to!" I said.

"Alright then." Emma smiled. "I'll let Miss P know and then we'll head over there. Won you got some quarters?"

"Yeah." Bronwyn slipped her hand into the pocket of her oil-stained jeans.

_______________________

Sorry the ending to that chapter was so abrupt

It was starting to get too long

What'd ya think?

Love ya!

CC