Hazel took Sandy’s hand and swung her arm gently as they walked down the boulevard, looking into the sparkling Christmas displays of the store windows. It seemed like forever since she was a child, and the toys on display seemed like relics of a forgotten time of innocence she could no longer connect with. Tinker Toys, dolls, little cars, tops, and toy guns would light up the eyes of kids everywhere on Christmas morning, but Hazel couldn’t think of anything she wanted. Though recently she’d dreamed of kissing Stanley under the mistletoe. But that couldn’t happen.

She’d needed time alone with her best friend to do something normal together like they used to do before Sandy’s world was shattered. A matinee at the Fox Theater downtown was just the ticket. They had decided against a Shirley Temple movie and went instead to see The Girl From Missouri with Jean Harlow, the blond actress who reminded Hazel of Mumsy. During the movie, Sandy had lit up a little. She even smiled and almost laughed. Hazel’s heart lifted each time.

Henri followed on a leash in Hazel’s other hand. She was taking Mick’s advice about taking him out more, and the young dog was behaving quite well. Sandy seemed to have a special connection with him. Sometimes Sandy would hug him and bury her face in his neck, and Hazel got the feeling that Henri knew she needed extra affection. He never squirmed away.

“Say, that’s lovely. You’d look just swell in that.” Hazel pointed out a red, velvet coat with white, fox cuffs displayed on a mannequin, surrounded by tinsel and greenery.

Sandy glanced through the shop window with vacant eyes. “Sure, if I want to look like Santa Claus.”

“It’s festive.” Hazel grinned.

“A bit too snazzy to wear around our newsie hero …”

Hazel had that sinking in her stomach again. Bananas. Sandy was sweet on Stanley after all … and they had been pitching woo under the moon at her birthday party. Stanley chased skirts as everyone knew, and Hazel had no claim on him. Still, it felt all wrong that her two best friends would have a romance. She had never admitted to Sandy how she felt about Stanley. Mainly because it seemed to fluctuate like mad ever since her rescue from the cave. Part of her wanted to cling to him and another part wanted to run away, far from all of the memories attached to him.

Jazz music echoed out of a bar; automobiles hummed and rumbled down the street. An old Model T without a top, looking like a horseless carriage, coughed smoke into the air. Several kids about her age rode inside, whooping and hollering. Hazel recognized all but one of them. It was some of Stanley’s Knights. Anino, Jakob, Shuffles, and also a girl with red hair. Crouched on the back, riding the back bumper, was Arthur, bowler hat at a slant, black suspenders over an open collar shirt.

After the automobile had passed, it screeched to a stop at the side of the street, one front tire coming up onto the sidewalk. Henri let out a bark.

“Hiya, Haze!” Jakob shouted back over his shoulder, giving her a wave.

Hazel let go of Sandy’s hand to wave back. “Hey, chums. What’s this?” She approached the rattling vehicle, chuckling.

“Meet my old lady. My grandpop gave me this jalopy. It’s been dead in his garage since 1929. He said it died with the stock market.” Jakob let out a laugh. “But I got her running. She’s a honey!”

Hazel grinned and touched the hood; it shook and jumped under her hand. “Not sure this is good for St. Louis. You clowns with wheels?”

Anino threw back his head and howled. Arthur straightened to a stand on the bumper and gave Hazel a slight nod before fixing his eyes on Sandy.

Shuffles gave Hazel a wink. “It’s okay, kiddo. Hop in. We’ll drive you home.” He wrinkled his freckled nose. “Come here, pooch!” He pushed open the door and patted the seat between him and the girl with red hair. Henri jumped in, wagged his tail, and attacked Shuffles’ face with kisses.

“What do you say, Sandy?” Hazel looked over at her friend for approval. Sandy’s golden-brown eyes were glued to the redhead.

“Looks crowded,” she muttered.

Hazel examined the stranger who sat beside Shuffles in the back seat. The girl had long, curly, red hair that she let hang down wild to the middle of her back. It wasn’t styled or set at all. Her gray sweater was form fitting, and she wore black trousers. She had a frank and direct gaze as she looked back at Hazel, chewing pink bubblegum.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hazel.” She held out a hand, and the girl shook it with a firm grip and calloused fingers.

“Mutual.” She blew a large, round bubble and let it pop. She peeled it off her mouth and nose and put it back into her mouth. “I’m Frisky.” Her voice was hoarse and low, and she had a small gap between her two front teeth.

“Are you? Well … I’m feeling quite spirited myself,” Hazel said.

“Nah, her name’s Frisky. She’s Arthur’s pal.” Shuffles grinned.

“Frisky Jones. And who’s this?” The girl with red hair gave a side smile and raised her chin at Sandy.

“I’m Alesandra Schmidt. Always nice to meet any pal of Arthur’s.” Sandy and Frisky looked at each other for a moment.

“Hop on in. I can ride the back with Artie. Ain’t no trouble.” The redhead slid onto the sidewalk and joined Arthur on the bumper. The boy in the bowler hat remained expressionless, staring out at the street and passing cars.

“My driver was going to come for us soon. We were just window shopping until then.”

“Now he won’t have to. We’ll get you back quicker than he can leave to get ya.”

She thought a moment. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to give old Jennings a break.”

Hazel climbed in, and Sandy followed. Jakob backed off of the curb, and with a jolt, they were off, swerving between cars and skidding around corners. Hazel clapped a hand down on the top of her head to keep her hat from flying off. Henri barked with glee, attracting even more attention. She hoped nobody from Lindell would recognize her. She liked the boys and all, but this would be a world of gossip for the likes of the Regina and Brigitte.

Jakob got her back to Lindell quicker than she could have imagined possible. They came to a stop in front of the Malloy mansion. Heart pounding, Hazel eagerly exited the car to get her feet on steady ground. Sandy followed, and Anino opened the back door for Henri to jump out.

“Thanks, boys,” Hazel called out.

“You bet.” Jakob waved.

Arthur jumped off the back bumper where he’d been hanging on who-knows-how through that ride. “Yous go on without me, fellas. Catch you around.”

“You got it.” Anino saluted, and the Model T pulled away with a gasp of black smoke.

The girl called Frisky clung to the back and looked back at them until the car turned a corner.

Hazel had a feeling something was weird. Aside from the goose pimples Arthur always gave her. She and Sandy waited and watched him while Henri circled them restlessly.

With his usual detachment, Arthur slowly approached them. He took out a cigarette and a match. He struck it on the heel of his shoe.

“Hear anything yet?” He took a drag on his cigarette. He squinted at Hazel and let the smoke cloud out of his mouth.

Hazel coughed. “About what?”

“Come on, Princess … you were supposed to be on the inside. Watchin’ all the pretty people so you’d help us figure out who the ring master is in this circus.”

“Haven’t noticed anything. I think Charles was working alone. The diary …” Hazel’s mind went blank, and a sharp pain went through her head. She rubbed her temples.

Arthur gave her a look of disgust. “You jerkin’ my chain, swell?” He blew smoke out his nose. “Soakin’ in all that fame has made you screwy. Somethin’ ain’t right about you. Like you’ve forgotten everything.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. It’s stale.” Hazel frowned, rattled.

Sandy, who had been silent ever since they had gotten into the car, spoke up as if she had not been paying any attention to the conversation. “Who’s Frisky to you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and took another puff of his cigarette. “What’s it to you, doll?”

Sandy stepped forward, and her hand shot out. The sound of the slap made Hazel jump and knocked the cigarette out of Arthur’s mouth. It hit the sidewalk and threw sparks.

Arthur blinked but didn’t react. Hazel was alarmed. What was going on? Henri growled, and Hazel put a hand on his head until he stopped.

“Is that her?” Sandy demanded.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.”

Sandy raised her hand to slap him again, but he caught her wrist and scowled at her.

“Look, swell. You don’t own me like you own that fancy bracelet and that ridiculous hat.

I ain’t yours. Hit me again, and you’ll wish God never gave you hands.”

“Let go of her.” Hazel heard her voice tremble. “How dare you threaten her? She’s been through enough.”

Arthur released Sandy’s wrist and cut his gaze at Hazel. “Don’t I know it? You two dames have bigger fish to gut. Teeth is missing. One of your famous newsies. That means none of us are safe. They aren’t even being careful now about who they pick off. Just ask Stanley.”

“Teeth?” Hazel’s heart seemed to freeze. She pictured the young, scrappy boy, and fear prickled over her skin. “What are we going to do?”

Arthur bent down and picked up the smoldering cigarette that was on the ground. “You? Nothin’, as usual.” He gave her a glance as if she were a pile of useless trash, and stuck the cigarette back between his lips. He gave Sandy a look that sent a chill down Hazel’s back. He rubbed his cheek where there was a red imprint of her hand. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and sauntered away.

“No you won’t. You stay away from her!” Hazel shouted at him, terrified he’d turn around. He didn’t.

Sandy watched him go, a small smile on her face. “It’s a date,” she whispered.

Hazel shook her head. “Why do I feel like I just walked into a motion picture thirty minutes late? What was all of that?”

“He wants to see me later,” Sandy breathed, with a look of triumph on her face. She was breathing hard as she watched Arthur move farther away and round the corner. She rubbed her wrist where he’d gripped her.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Yeah.” Sandy smirked.

“You should tell Stanley. He won’t allow that.”

“What does Stanley have to do with it? Arthur isn’t his dog,” Sandy snapped.

“No, but … you and Stanley …” Hazel swallowed, feeling awkward.

Sandy raised her brows, her eyes wide with surprise. She began to chuckle, low and mocking. “Stanley? And me? Me and the White Knight?”

“But … he rescued you in the caves, and at my party the two of you in the garden …”

“He never rescued me in the caves. He left me there in the dark with Charles. A broken doll.”

“You were out cold—we tied him up good and tight, and we couldn’t carry you …” Realization seeped into Hazel’s brain. Arthur and Sandy.

Sandy got a faraway look on her face. “I know,” she rasped in a broken whisper. Her face scrunched up, and tears ran down her cheeks. In all this time Hazel had not seen Sandy cry about what happened, and it made her heart feel like it was tearing. “I understand all that but … I woke up, you see.”

The horror of that washed over Hazel. She took Sandy by the hand and led her into the house and up to her room with Henri on their heels. Her best friend followed without resistance and lay down on Hazel’s bed, weeping without a sound.

Hazel lay on her side next to Sandy and put an arm over her. “What happened down there? I’ve never asked before, but … my psychotherapist says that emotions we bury never die. You need to get it out.” Hazel watched her best friend’s profile as she stared up at the ceiling.

Sandy wiped her eyes and spoke. “Charles asked me to the VP Ball. He came to my house with a rose and asked me to go on a walk with him … I was over the moon. You know how much I wanted that.”

“Yes.”

“He kissed me. Hard. And he pushed something into my mouth with his tongue … Then he clamped his hand over my face so I couldn’t spit it out. It hurt, and I tried to get away. He said, ‘Swallow the pill, and I will let go.’ So I did.” Sandy stopped as a sob shook her body.

Henri whined and hopped up onto the bed, lying beside her. Sandy hid her face in the side of his furry body. Hazel watched, a lump rising in her throat. Maybe she shouldn’t make Sandy relive whatever had happened to her. It was too horrible.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she said softly.

Sandy turned toward Hazel, swallowing hard. One hand moved through Henri’s fur. “I opened my eyes, and everything was blurry. I was in the caves but didn’t know where I was. He wanted the diary … he wanted to hurt me. And he did. I never want to talk about what he did … It was too much …” She squeezed her eyes shut and caught her breath. “Then I told him I didn’t have the diary—that I gave it to you.” She turned toward Hazel, and her light brown eyes, rimmed with gold, spilled more tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I was afraid.”

Hazel shook her head. “No. It’s okay. Stop that.” She wiped away one of her friend’s tears and stroked her cheek. “He was coming after me anyway. I was there and saw him after he killed your sister. He knew Stanley and I were trying to figure out who he was.”

Sandy continued, staring into nothing. “I blacked out. I heard yelling and sounds but couldn’t wake up. My whole body hurt. It was dark, and my face felt funny. Sticky … tight. I reached up and touched it and realized my face was covered with drying blood. Someone was standing over me. I knew it was him … that he was back to do more things to me … He said, ‘Where’s the knife he done this with?’ At first I thought I was seeing things or that … the devil had changed shape. But I realized it was someone else in a tilted bowler hat.”

“Arthur. He went back after we left …”

Sandy nodded. “I told him there was no knife … that he carved into my face with Evelyn’s ring.” She twisted the ring on her finger. It glowed blood red.

Hazel gasped. “Oh, Sandy!”

“Last thing I saw before everything went black again … Arthur was bent over him, tied up on the floor, going through his pockets, and I saw the glint of the ring as he slashed it at Charles’ face. Arthur did that for me.”

Hazel knew Arthur had his own reasons for hating Charles, a swell who was instrumental somehow in the ruination of his family years ago. But it was clear that Sandy had fixated on the dark newsie as a hero who had evened the score for her. “Do you love him?”

“I hate him, and I need him.” Sandy turned on her side, hugging Henri.

Hazel wanted to tell her that it was dangerous and twisted to need someone like Arthur. The relationship would go no place good. But she couldn’t bring herself to say that to Sandy.

“Arthur isn’t … our kind.”

Sandy turned and looked at her, incredulous. “Hazel … how can you even talk about ‘kinds’ anymore? He’s right, and you ought to know it. This business with the Veiled Prophet goes beyond Charles. Why are you acting like you don’t know it? Why are you turning into Brigitte?”

The confusion and headache came back. Hazel shook her head. “I—I don’t know. I just can’t be sure.” She didn’t want to talk about it—had to think. “I’ll get you something to eat and drink. You rest. We can talk more later if you need to. Okay?” Hazel patted her friend’s back and slipped out of the room. It was hard not to feel panicked. Teeth was missing, Sandy and Arthur had some kind of scary attachment, and the facts about all that had happened seemed to slip through her fingers whenever she tried to think. And then there were the headaches.

Hazel found two Pepsi-Colas in the Frigidaire and a couple of pastries in the pantry. While she surveyed the shelves for something salty, she heard voices enter the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be more careful.” It was Peggy. She sounded unusually somber.

“Be sure that you are. I won’t have any sass. Don’t forget who pays your wages.”

Hazel blinked in surprise. Was that Mumsy sounding so high-hat?

“To be sure, ma’am.”

“My daughter needs to find her place and can’t do that while you treat her like she’s your equal.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

Hazel had never heard her mother act this way before. Admittedly, she herself had been a little bossy and impatient with the help lately … but hearing Mumsy talk that way made her realize it sounded just awful. She waited in the pantry, the drinks cold and wet under her arm.

“I’d like that martini in my room, and make it snappy.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

The sound of Mumsy’s heels retreating and then returning made Hazel back farther into the pantry. “And one more thing … I know how you people like to come and go. I’m letting everyone know they need to double check the locks at night. It’s probably best you stay in tonight. That Sinclair maid, Maxie, was found shot to death in a heap of garbage in an alleyway today, and nobody knows who did it.”

Hazel dropped one of the bottles, and it shattered on the ground, splashing her legs with cold, fizzing soda and fragments of glass.