But he shook his head. Here? Looking around the littered, filthy, bare, bug-infested room, Ron could hardly believe it. The jails back home are better than this.

Sylvia came back at last, pulling Davey along with one hand and carrying a bag of food in the other. They sat on the floor together, the three of them, while she handed out rolls and cheese and plastic cups of something that was supposed to be coffee. It was warm, not hot, and it tasted like machine oil.

“Where did you get this?” Ron asked.

Sylvia munched on a bite of roll and answered thickly, “Downstairs. First floor. Al’s got a big stack of food an’ stuff. Leftovers from th’ tourists.”

Stolen, Ron knew. But it was the best meal he’d ever had.

He wolfed down the food greedily, thinking about beggars and choosers.

“We gotta get Al t’ let you in th’ gang,” Sylvia said. “Otherwise yer gonna be in tough shape.”

“The gang?”

“Al’s gang. He’s th’ boss. He’s out someplace on th’ turf right now. Be back t’night.”

“And what do I do all day?”

“Stay here. Dino’s around, an’ if he knows yer here he’ll start in on you again. He likes t’ lean on people.”

“Dino hits hard,” Davey said, in his high little voice. “He hits me when I’m bad.”

Ron stared at the child, then looked up at Sylvia. “He hits Davey?”

She nodded, her face grim. “That’s why I want th’ two of you t’ stay right here all day. No trouble if you stay here.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be around. Hafta go out this afternoon fer a while, get some food. Wish that damned ’frigerator worked. I could put food in there instead a goin’ out twice a day.”

Ron said, “Maybe I can fix it. Are there any tools around?”

Davey scrambled to his feet. “I know! There’s big tools inna basement, next t’ th’ furnace. Eddie and me seen ’em when we was playin’ down there!”

“Let’s take a look at them.” Ron started to get up.

Sylvia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No—you stay right here. Davey, you go down an’ get all th’ tools you can carry. Bring ’em up here. But don’t tell nobody Ron’s up here. Unnerstand?”

Davey nodded eagerly. His big dark eyes went from Sylvia to Ron. “Okay. I be quiet.” He looked very serious and excited at the same time.

So Ron spent the morning taking the refrigerator apart. It kept his mind busy, kept him from thinking about what was happening back home, thinking about his father, his mother, the Examiner. He just worked on the refrigerator and tried to keep his mind blank.

Davey squatted on the kitchen floor next to him, hardly saying a word, watching intently. He took in every move that Ron made, until Ron felt that the child could have copied everything he did, move for move.

Sylvia left in the afternoon. By then, Ron had figured out what was wrong with the refrigerator. It was simply dirt. The motor was very old, but still good. It was just clogged with dust and greasy grime. Davey found some plastic sheets that were almost as dirty as the motor itself, and they used the sheets to clean the motor, piece by piece. Davey helped, although Ron had to redo almost every piece the boy worked on.