"You can't get out of here," I said, "so we'll just have to wait it out."

"Wait it out?! That's a freaking drug-lord out there! We can't wait this out!" Charlie yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Charlie was always a drama queen.

"I'll hide and you call the police. Tell them he's trying to rob you."

"Why do you have to hide?" he asked.

I sighed, "One, they'll take Joe's important crap for evidence. Two, if I'm involved, they'll think Joe is-"

"He is involved."

"-and he's already been arrested three times this year - twice on false charges."

"Where are you going to hide, then?" he questioned, looking around the room.

I sighed deeply. "The staircase."

He didn't look too happy about lying, but - bless his innocent, little soul - he dialed 911 anyway. His brown eyes were filled with fear as he talked to the operator.

"...There's a... g-guy trying to rob my store... He's outside, trying to get in... 211 Cherry St-Street... Thank you."

Finally, I opened the blue door again. "Here goes nothing," I whispered, shutting myself in. The blue door was still there when I shut it, which was a relief, but who knew what would be on the other side when I opened it again. It was quiet and quite tight as I examined the wooden walls and platforms.

I couldn't hear anything, even when I put my ear up to the door. No police sirens or anything.

After a while, I decided I could come out. I saw Charlie pacing back and forth, stressed. "Charlie," I got his attention, and he immediately looked relived.

"I kept banging on the wall, but you never came out," he said. "I had no idea what happened to you."

"What happened to Henry?" I asked.

He smiled, "He kept rambling about how you opened a door, but they couldn't see it so they thought he was high. They took him to the station."

"It's one problem after another," I said. "I'll probably be back," I called, walking to the Alley.

The Alley is where my brother's "gang" hangs out 24/7. To be completely honest, it's the saddest "gang" I've ever seen.

I went there often so my brother could give me something to do that he couldn't do himself. Then, he'd usually pay me for it. It made everyone else tease him, but, regardless, they seemed pretty fond of me.

The "gang" was called The Unknown because none of them could think of a decent name. It consisted of my brother (Joe Montana), Anthony Lyle, Bernie Greene, and Frank Sinny. (I called him "Frank Sinatra" to get on his nerves - how unfortunate that his mother was a fan.)

My brother was tall - maybe 5'9 - and scrawny (which is why he needed me to do things for him). His build was like a twig, and he had shaggy blonde hair and green eyes, like mine.

Anthony was the "player" of the group (at least he called himself that - if I could physically sigh on paper, I would). He had black hair that basically just sat on top of his head, and he was pretty tall (at least two inches taller than my brother). He also had bright, blue eyes, wore a smirk all the time, and figured he could have any girl he wanted, but he was quite wrong.

Bernie was this short, shy, and chubby guy. He had closed-cropped, dirty blonde hair, and gray eyes. He was the nicest in the gang. He was the quiet one, so I knew next to nothing about him.

Frank Sinny-atra was arrogant (a tad less arrogant than Anthony, though) and annoying. He had braces that he refused to have taken off, and shaggy, black hair that he wouldn't cut. His brown eyes were shifty, and he didn't do anything but drugs.

Although I didn't exactly ask to be in this "gang", I kind of was. Everyone in my family was born in Florida, then my brother decided to move to New Orleans. That was all fine and dandy until my parents found out about his... behavior. And since my little sister, Anna, was just going into 3rd grade, they asked me to move there to help keep him in line. Didn't work out too well because he started paying me to do things for him. Ever since his gang and Henry's became rivals, I had a lot more stuff to do.

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Just a short walk later, I arrived at the Alley. "Hey, fruitcake," Frank said.

"Shut up," I replied, handing my brother the backpack.

"What's in this?" he asked, rifling through.

I crossed my arms, "That stuff Henry stole from you."

He looked at me with wide eyes, "You got it back?!"

"It's in there," I nodded.

He proceeded to take out the laptop and the bag.

"What's that?" Frank asked, running over to Joe.

"Something you're not allowed to have," Joe replied. Frank's shoulders hung as he walked back to sit on the dumpster.

The Alley was narrow, but not overcrowded with the five of us there. It resided between a barber shop and a bar and grill. A factory was built across the street.

There were two dumpsters that reeked, but Frank and Anthony still sat on them. They probably smelled a lot worse than the dumpsters, anyway. Joe and Bernie had beat up lawn chairs, and I usually stood whenever I was there.

"Hey," Anthony nodded at me, smoking (not sure what it was, though).

"Hey," I replied, turning back to my brother, who had the laptop open and sitting on his lawn chair.

"Everything's here," he mumbled to himself. "I appreciate that you brought this back to me," he said, handing me money out of his pocket, "but I need you to hide it."

"What?" I questioned, pocketing the money.

"He's gonna come back for it, Claire. It's not safe for me to keep it."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous. More dangerous than you know."