Lisa twists the payphone telephone cord around her fingers absentmindedly.

"Yeah...mmhmm...Mom, don't worry. I'll be home by midnight."

A dirty-haired boy pulls her close. "Goody two-shoes," he whispers. "Make it noon."

"No way!" she protests and twists away. "She'll kill me if she finds out about us." The annoyance shows on her face.

"Okay, okay," he says, taken aback by her sudden temper. "Come on, I gotta pick up my guitar."

They walk over to a brownstone apartment building, where he leads her by the hand up the steps. Inside, the room is a mess, with clothes everywhere. Sheet music is scattered on the floor.

Lisa starts gathering papers into piles while the boy clears clothing, looking for the guitar. "Where is it?"

"Are you sure you brought it?" she asks, worried.

"Of course I brought it. I'm not stupid!" he yells, louder than he intended.

"Well, maybe we should go back and check," she replies, calmly.

"No, I know it's here somewhere. It's gotta be."

"Maybe it's back at Mick's. You know, after all that drama today, I almost broke down. Maybe you forgot it over there while we were talking," Lisa muses.

"No, no, NO!" He furiously tosses papers and shirts aside, digging.

"It's not the remote or something, you know," she observes. "It's big. If it was here, you woulda found it by now."

"What do you think I am, an idiot?" he turns on her. "It's HERE."

"Fine." She places a stack of papers on a round table and gets up. "I'm leaving."

"Fine." He doesn't turn around.

She opens the door and says over her shoulder, "We're starting at 9 with or without you," then disappears into the street.

**********

After spending the evening with Anil and Sangeetha in front of the tv, Jon heads home. He passes by the basketball court and mutters to himself, thinking that all they had wanted was a friendly game today.

A gleam of two white eyes startles him and he becomes wary, looking around and walking a little faster.

From the shadows a tall, slim, dark figure emerges. "Hey, mon..."

Jon breathes a sigh of relief as he recognizes the other basketball rival. "Hi...uh, Isaac, was it?"

"Isaiah."

"Oh, Isaiah, yeah, sorry."

"How is the other fella?" Isaiah asks apologetically. "He ok?" A wrinkle furrows his brow.

"Hmm...his shinbone is broken...but he'll live," Jon replies. "Thanks for asking," he adds.

"Sorry to hear about it. I hope he gets better soon," he says, sincerely.

"Yeah, I'll tell him. It would help him to know someone else who was there is on his side."

"Hey, mon..." Isaiah says suddenly, and trails off.

"What?"

"Well, you should watch out for those two, Lisa and Mickey. They're no good."

"Yeah, I guessed," Jon chuckles sadly.

"No, man," Isaiah persists, then adds conspiratorially, "it was all a bad thing. I didn't know until it was too late. Stay away from them..."

"What do you mean?" Jon asks, his eyes widening with disbelief and confusion.

"I shouldn't tell you this," Isaiah says, "but your buddy is lucky it's only a broken leg. They wanted him to get hurt - badly."

He whispered, "They planned the whole thing from the beginning..."

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