"But Suzie, you're exactly the kind of student who should continue their education. I can feel the hunger in you, the desire to learn. There's a way, I promise you. I can help you if you want."

The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She kept her head lowered and refused to meet Brynn's eyes. "I can't, Miss Cassidy."

"Suzie, didn't you hear what I said to Denzil earlier? Where there's a will, there's a way. Now if you're worried about the money, there are scholarships. I'll help you fill out the applications, and ..."

Suzie's head snapped up, and Brynn noticed that the teenager's face was streaked with tears. "A scholarship isn't going to help me, Miss Cassidy. Nothing will." Having said that, Suzie turned and raced out of the classroom.

Stunned, Brynn sat at her desk for several moments, pondering Suzie's words. Nothing would help her? That made no sense.

Feeling as though she'd somehow failed her brightest student, Brynn left the building, determined to try again to meet Denzil's and Malcolm's parents. Perhaps she'd have more success now that the word was out that she wanted to compliment the teens instead of complain.

A block away from the school the streets were dirty, filled with litter and broken glass. A discarded davenport was turned upside down and garbage dumped in the ripped undercarriage. The smells of rotting food were potent enough to cause Brynn to turn her head away.

Dusk settled over the city. The streetlights that weren't broken blinked on, casting a clouded yellow glow to the filth on the sidewalk.

From the distance, Brynn watched as a man approached her. She stiffened, then reminded herself she had nothing to fear. This was a violent neighborhood, but like Father Grady, Brynn had faith in the goodwill of those who occupied the tenements.

As the figure of the man grew near, Brynn recognized Roberto. When he realized it was she, his steps became quick and filled with purpose. The tension drained from her, and Brynn relaxed. They'd met twice in the last week, swift snatches of time they'd stolen in an effort to be together. Five minutes. Ten. Just long enough to convey that they wished it could be longer.

"Roberto." She didn't bother to disguise her happiness.

Roberto was frowning. "It's true, then," he said, sounding none too pleased.

"What is?" she asked, surprised by his attitude.

"Emilio stopped off at the garage to tell me you were parading around these streets after school visiting families."

"I wanted-"

"Don't you realize it's dark now by four-thirty?" he barked. He jerked off his baseball cap and slapped it against his knee in a display of disgust.

"Roberto, what's wrong?"

"Are you crazy, woman?" He said something in Spanish, and from his tone, it was just as well she didn't understand. "You're inviting trouble. I thought you had more sense than this."

"Roberto, if you'd only listen."

"To what? Don't you realize this is New York City? You're targeting yourself to be the next crime victim. You're inviting trouble. I can't follow you around and protect you."

She didn't appreciate his attitude, but she didn't want to argue, not when they'd come so far. She stiffened her shoulders and glared right back at him. The cold wind whipped about her face as she struggled with her composure. "I know what I'm doing."

"You haven't got a clue," Roberto snapped. "What could possibly be so important for you to risk your life?"

She tried to tell herself that he was so angry because he cared, but his attitude stung. The people in this neighborhood knew her. She couldn't go more than a few houses before she met someone she recognized from either the school or the church.

"Don't you understand?" Roberto said, gripping her by the shoulders. "You can't change the world on your own."

"But I can help these kids."

"Brynn, oh, my darling fool." Briefly he closed his eyes, struggling to hold on to his temper. "You can do nothing. You can change nothing. Denzil, Malcolm, and all the rest will live and die in this neighborhood the same way Emilio and I will."

"That's not true," she argued. She could make a difference. She believed that with all her heart. That was the reason she was here.

"Grow up," he said, his fingers biting deep into her coat. "You've got to step out of this dream world you're living in. Look around you. Can't you see?"

Brynn refused to believe what he said. "We have a difference of opinion, Roberto, but that's no reason to treat me like a child."

He seemed to be struggling within himself. After a moment, he dropped his hands and his features hardened. "Go home, Brynn. For the love of God, go home where you belong. You don't fit in here. Just go!" he shouted, and gave her a light push.

She blanched. "You don't mean that."

"I've never been more serious in my life. Pack your bags and head back to Rhode Island or wherever it was you came from before you get yourself killed. Please, Brynn." This last part came on a rush of emotion.

The pain his words produced sucked the breath from her lungs. At first she could barely think, and when she spoke her voice betrayed her pain. "You want me to leave?"

He held himself stiffly away from her and didn't answer for several moments. Then something broke within him, and he expelled his breath forcefully. Before her heart beat again, before she could take another breath, Roberto brought her into his arms. "No, I don't want you to go."

Her arms circled his waist, and he relaxed. Nothing had ever felt more right than to be in Roberto's arms.

"Promise me, if you're so anxious to go out nights, you'll let either me or Emilio accompany you."

She remembered his words about not having the time to be her bodyguard and knew he'd said those hurtful things only because he was worried for her.

"Promise?" he demanded.

She nodded, and he kissed the top of her head.

Beneath the warm, golden glow of the streetlight, the man who'd shouted at her only moments earlier now bent his head to kiss her. "What am I going to do with you?" he said.

Brynn smiled to herself, content in his arms. In time he'd realize she could make a difference. If it was only to be in one life, then so be it, but she wouldn't walk away from her students, nor would she leave this neighborhood, no matter what Roberto thought.

Jenny stood on stage, dressed in her tights and dancing shoes. Five others stood with her, including Michelle. All triple threats. Each one accomplished in singing, dancing, and acting. Each one eager to be John Peterman's latest Broadway discovery. Each one pleading silently to be chosen for this role. Any role. A chance.

Bright lights blinded her, but Jenny was accustomed to not being able to view her audience. Her throat was raw and her head throbbed, but she ignored the cold and flu symptoms as best she could.

"Miss Lancaster."

The man with the booming voice called her name. Jenny stepped forward and shaded her eyes with her hand. "Yes."

"You sang 'Don't Cry for Me, Argentina' in the first audition, is that correct?"

"Yes." Her voice quivered with the strain of answering his questions.

"Did you bring your sheet music with you?"

"Yes." She looked to the man sitting at the piano.