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of the bagel. It tasted good. Maybe the bagel wouldn’t be the only thing that was good here. Maybe. Maybe not.

CHAPTER SIX
    â€œ WE ’ LL JUST MAKE THIS A LITTLE BIT WIDER ,” Brent said. He gave it a sharp kick and the board splintered into three pieces. “Did they really think that was going to keep anybody out?”
    He reached down and grabbed the pieces, twisting and yanking, the nails squealing as he worked to pull the boards free of the window frame. He took the pieces of wood and tossed them away, then bent down and crawled in through the window, disappearing into the darkness inside. Suddenly there was light, and Brent reappeared holding a flashlight.
    â€œWhere did you get that?” Ashley asked.
    â€œI got it at that Wal-Mart store—special five-finger discount. Watch yourselves when you’re crawling in. There’s some broken glass.” He aimed the light at thelittle shards of glass still clinging to the edges of the frame.
    Ashley dropped to her knees and crawled in after him. I turned and looked around. I couldn’t see anybody or anything except the dark outlines of the abandoned buildings that surrounded us, but I still imagined there were eyes on us.
    I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of place Nicki had had in mind when she’d offered to find me somewhere for the night. It couldn’t have been any worse than crawling in through the broken window of an abandoned building.
    â€œYou waiting for a formal invitation?” Brent asked.
    I got down on my knees and crawled in after them, careful to avoid the broken glass. Once inside I got back on my feet. Brent shone the light around the building. It was some sort of old factory or warehouse. It was empty, and the ceiling soared high over our heads.
    â€œYou ever been in this place before?” Ashley asked Brent.
    â€œI’ve been in every place before.”
    â€œSo you know your way around in here?” I asked.
    â€œI said I’d been here, not that I memorized the floor plan. Just follow me.”
    I stayed close to Brent, just a few steps behind the beam of light he projected in front of himself. Aside from that little light, the building was pitch-black. The space was so big that I couldn’t see the ceiling or thewalls, and there was no way of telling what else—or who else—was there. Under my feet, I could feel and hear pieces of glass on the crumbling, uneven concrete.
    I hated being in a new squat, but there was no choice tonight. We’d shown up at the building we’d slept in for most of the past week to find the door boarded up and a guard in a security car sitting in the alley. If we had tried to break in we would have been arrested. The guard would probably be there for a few nights before they sent him off to watch something else. That was the way it worked. Whoever owned these abandoned buildings didn’t really want us to trespass, but they didn’t want to spend much money to make sure nobody ever did it, either. Instead it was like there was some sort of agreement between all the street kids and all the owners that we could sleep in one place for a few days before we were chased off and had to stay someplace else.
    â€œThis looks encouraging,” Brent said as he shone the light down a small hallway. We trailed behind him along the corridor. It led to a number of smaller rooms—offices.
    â€œWooden floors,” Brent said, shining his light downward. He pressed his foot against the floor and it creaked. “It’s always better to sleep on wood than concrete. How about if we sleep here?”
    â€œLooks like somebody has been sleeping here,” Ashley pointed out.
    Brent shone the light around the room. There were newspapers and blankets and bits of clothing scattered around. He walked over and grabbed one of the papers and studied it under the light of his flashlight.
    â€œIt’s old . . . months old . . . I can hardly read