The Ajax General Market. At first that's all it was. Just an average-sized supermarket. Up the beach, and over five blocks

from the pad. But, more about that, (the Ajax General Market), later on.

I, Beth, had been living with the guys for about two months now. Gramps was still at the rehabilitation center, though he was

making progress. I'd started school, at Lincoln Heights Junior High, which was within walking distance. To me, though, once you

reached the city streets, and got to the area where the school was located, and you left the beach behind, well, it was like a

different world.

Things were still going well with me living there. I got on well with all of the guys, and had my own sort of relationship

with all four of them. After the night that the police officers had visited the pad, a social worker had been assigned to

the case. At first, when I found out that that was happening, I got really upset. I figured that it meant that I wasn't going to

be able to stay with the guys, and would have to go to foster care after all.

I'd even run all the way down the beach when I found out, and in the dark to boot. I'd been sitting on the big

boulder where Pete and I sat at sometimes together. All of the fellows had come out hunting for

me, and I'd heard them calling my name up and down the beach.

Peter was the one to find me first. He'd been running thru the sand, because he was breathing harder than usual.

I was sitting on the boulder, with my knees tucked up, and my arms wrapped around them.

To his credit, Pete reacted in his typical, easy-going way. He sat down on the rock beside me, and was quiet for a long

few minutes. He didn't immediately get onto me for running off, and worrying everybody. I guess he figured he would leave

that to Davy, or to Mike.

Anyway, after a few minutes of silence, he said, "You ran out before you heard the rest of what Davy said."

"I heard enough. I'm getting a social worker. That means foster care," I said shortly, rocking back and forth.

"Not this time, that's not what it means."

I turned to look at him in the dark. I could only make out a bit of his profile from the lights shining up above on the strip.

"What?" I asked, feeling my heart leap a bit.

"They're giving the social worker, to keep an eye on you, and make sure you're doing okay. To make sure we're taking good

care of you. She's not around to take you away."

"Honest?" I said, breathless.

"Of course."

I felt the tempest inside of me begin to settle. "Oh, wow," I said, really softly. "That's amazing."

"Yeah," Peter said, in quiet agreement.

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Pete said we needed to get walking back to the pad, that the rest of the guys were worried, and that even Belinda was

out scouring the beach and nearby streets for me. We were walking along, and he was holding my hand, when we

heard my name being called out again.

"Here!" Peter said, raising his voice to call back.

It was Micky and Belinda, and they both rushed up, asking if I was alright, and all of that.

I told them I was fine, and Micky said, "What'd you do that for? Run out like that?"

"I thought, well, you know," I said, vaguely.

"Yeah. I know," Micky said, with a sigh. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Thanks, Mick," I said.

"We'd better get you back," Belinda said. "Davy's about to go completely bonkers."

At the thought of Davy, worrying that way about me, I felt guilt wash over me in waves.

"I'd better find him, and talk to him," I said.

"You'd better," Belinda agreed, and laughed a little. "Or he's going to be bald, from yanking out his hair in worry."

I knew she was joking, and trying to lighten the mood, but it only reinforced my guilt.

By now we were nearly to the beach just adjacent to the pad. There were more lights here, and I could see Mike

standing there, talking to some of the other neighbors.

"Oh, golly," I said, my stomach dropping even lower, "Were the Taylor's out looking for me, too?"

"They were at my place when Davy popped over," Belinda said. "They wanted to help."

I could tell that the Taylor's, along with Mike, were deciding where to look next, because they were pointing down

the opposite direction of the beach.

By now, we'd been spotted. By the Taylor's. And, by Mike.

"There you are," Mrs. Taylor gushed. "My goodness, you've had these boys worried."

After a few minutes of conversation, when Mike said that Davy had gone the other direction, Micky

spoke up and said, "I'll go find him and let him know we found Beth."

"Good idea," Mike said.

"I'll go along with you," Belinda said, to Micky, and then with a slight smile at me, she went with Micky.

That left me, Pete, Mike, and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor standing there.

"Well, we'll go on along, since we know you're alright," Mrs. Taylor said to me.

"Thank you," Mike told them, as they walked away.

And, then, he turned to look at me. I couldn't really judge his expression, as to whether he was mad at me, or not.

"I was worried-" I started to explain. "I thought the social worker-"

"I know," Mike interrupted me. "You shouldn't have run off like that, though."

I looked at him, tremulously. I would have apologized, but he looked at Peter then, and said, "Well," in a

sort of drawn-out way.

"Yeah," Peter said, in reply, seeming to know just what Mike meant.

Mike turned around and started walking back towards the stairs leading to the pad. I still had ahold of Peter's hand, and

I said, anxiously, "Should I go look for Davy, do you think?"

"I wouldn't," Mike answered, without turning around. "Let Micky tell him you're alright. You'd do better just

stayin' here and waitin' for him."

So we three started up the stairs. Mike in front, me in the middle, and Peter at the end.

"I'm sorry," I said, including both of them in my apology.

"We know," Pete said.

"I was just so scared," I went on, as we reached the sliding doors going into the pad, and Mike opened them. He ushered me and Peter

in ahead of him, and then closed them again.

Pete went off toward the kitchen, and Mike went to pick up his guitar, sitting on the sofa.

He began to strum chords, but said nothing.

Into the uncomfortable silence, I said, "I'm sorry, Mike."

He let his hand rest on the guitar strings, and looked up at me.

"I get it," he said. "We're cool."

I felt relieved. Hugely. Still, the worst was yet to come. Davy, ever since he'd met me on the beach that first

day, had become my protector. Well, all the guys did that, but Davy, well, Davy seemed to have jumped into this whole

'guardian' thing with both feet.

I found that I couldn't settle. I kept going to the doors and looking out, to see if I could see Davy heading back with

Micky and Belinda.

"Relax," Mike said.

I tried. I went to sit beside him on the couch, while Pete perched himself sideways in the chair. When we heard voices and

steps coming, I sat up straighter. The doors opened, and Davy came in, Micky behind him.

Davy came forward, and I stood up, taking a few steps, and we 'met in the middle', so to speak.

"You're alright?" he asked me.

"Yes."

Davy reached out and grabbed me, hugging me hard. Just as suddenly, he pushed back.

"You gave me a fright," he said, his hands on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling as though I'd said it a bunch already. "I thought it meant I was going to have to

go to foster care-and have to leave you guys-"

"Yeah, I know. That's not what it is, though-" he began to explain.

"I know that now. Pete explained it to me," I said.

He was still looking at me, and I reacted in what felt natural to me. I flung my arms around his neck and

hugged him again.

"I wasn't running off, or anything," I was assuring him. "I was just trying to think, is all."

"Okay," he said. "But, you can't do it that way. Promise."

I'd promised him. And, I'd meant it, too.

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