"I wish you'd let me sleep on that dingy sofa instead," Ritchie commented.

The night we kissed, I told him everything I knew about Travelers and the stairs. At first, he didn't believe me, but when I took the not-broken laptop out, he was sold. It was adorable to watch him play around with it; he was completely amazed. And we couldn't even get on the internet.

We read Joe's notes, and I showed him the baggy, which he did not want to touch at all. I slept on the couch after some persuasion on my part. I felt this dull pain in my neck when I was half asleep, and I bolted upright.

It ended after a few moments, and I lay back down, pondering about what the frick that was.

The next day, Ritchie took me on a walk around town. I told him it was to see if there were more doors, but I also wanted to looked around the streets, see what they used to look like.

"What exactly are we looking for?" he asked, closing the front door of his house.

"It's more like what am I looking for and what can you not see," I replied. He only nodded.

"Hey, Ritchie," Darrel greeted, coming out of nowhere (I swear he can teleport). He rested his arm on Ritchie's shoulder. Darrel was taller than Ritchie, with long blonde hair and green eyes. And he was always smiling.

Another guy walked up next to me. He had high cheekbones, crooked teeth, and dark, blue eyes. His hair was a lump of black mess on top of his head. "Hey, Jack," Ritchie said to him. "This is Claire."

I waved and smiled. I was still thinking about when I kissed Ritchie. We hadn't said a word about it the night before or the morning after. He wasn't drunk; I knew that for a fact. He definitely remembered.

"Claire?" I heard. "You got ears?"

It was Jack.

I shook my head, "Sorry, what?"

"You just move here?" he asked.

"I'm just visiting from Florida," I replied. Ritchie glanced at me. We both knew that was a lie.

"Where ya headed to?" Darrel asked, a hop in his step and his eyebrow raised.

"Takin' a walk," Ritchie replied.

Darrel slung his arm around Ritchie, "In broad daylight? You sure are strange." I wasn't sure about what that meant, but I decided not to question it.

I looked around as we walked. In windows, on the walls. There couldn't be just one staircase in the whole world.

The doors in the staircase were bright, so I looked for newer doors, and every time I saw one, I'd ask Ritchie if he could see it. He always could.

After a while, because I had to ask discreetly, I would just nudge him and nod my head over to a door. He'd shake his head.

"Hey, look boys!" Darrel yelled, "It's Trashy, Déclassé, and Flashy!" I followed his line of sight. There were three greasers walking up the street. I couldn't tell who Trashy and Déclassé were, but I knew who Flashy was. He had on the brightest shirt that I'd ever seen in my life. Maybe it was because drug-addicts didn't tend to dress in bright clothing.

"It's not pronounced de-class-y! It's day-class-ay! And you're one to talk, hobo!" the short one yelled. Guess now we know who Déclassé is, I thought.

"Look at you!" Trashy called. "Your jacket has a thousand holes in it." I had to hand it to him, that was true.

Darrel grinned, "Ain't ya heard, boys? That's the new style!" He proceeded to pose like an idiot, mimicking models (and failing). Ritchie, Jack, and I laughed.

Flashy crossed the street, the others behind him, "Oh, shut your --- mouth! I ain't no --- ---!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Darrel warned, covering Déclassé's ears when he was close enough, "There's children around."

Déclassé started smacking Darrel, "I'll kick your --- ---! Any day of the week!"

"Are ya sure you're tall enough?" Darrel teased. Déclassé was redder than a beet.

"You --- ---," Trashy yelled, "you can't ever shut your --- --- --- mouth, can ya?! All that --- comes out of it is --- ---! That should be your --- nickname: --- ---, you --- ---!" Guess that's why Darrel called him Trashy - that, and his ratty clothes.

Ritchie looked horrified (oh, the innocence). Nobody had really noticed me yet, and Jack was just laughing in the background.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?!" Darrel yelled.

"--- --- yeah!" Trashy responded.

"Momma's boy," Darrel muttered. Then Flashy pulled out a switchblade. I was surprised there wasn't rhinestones on the handle.

"Simmer down there, Mr. Sun," I said. I felt a click, and the three boys before me flashed in my vision.

"Who the --- --- are you?" Trashy demanded.

"I'd tell ya," I said, "but you're bein' a tad disrespectful don't ya think?" I stepped closer and glared up at him (I might've tried too hard at sounding like a hood...) I just knew he was related to Henry.

"Stay outta this," he spat.

"How 'bout you brush your teeth and then get back to me?" I tried. At least we knew vampires weren't gonna mess with him...

He backed off. "Let's go. I'm not wasting my time on these ---." Then he flipped up a finger and stalked off.

"You sure got guts," Darrel commented.

I shrugged, "I've seen worse. They're pathetic, really."

Darrel teased people all day, making the three of us laugh. Sometimes I joined in, but I was more focused on looking for doors.

"Hey," Darrel said at lunch. We were sat at the diner in the same booth I saw Ritchie in the night before. I was next to Ritchie, Darrel was across from me, and Jack was beside of Darrel.

"What?" Ritchie asked, mouth half full of French fries (he loved French fries).

"I'm goin' to the drive-in tonight; they're playin' an Audrey Hepburn movie," Darrel replied, grinning (and he loved Audrey Hepburn).

"Can't come," Jack said. "Told Nathan I'd be at this party tonight -" he looked at Darrel "- and I heard Sarah would be there."

"Then I'm definitely not going," Darrel replied.

Jack must've seen the confused look on my face. "Darrel's ex," he said.

"Yada, yada, yada," Darrel butt in. "Is anybody comin' with me or not?"

Ritchie shrugged, "You up for a movie, Claire?"

"Yeah," I replied casually. But I was ecstatic.