"Paulie didn't kill Miracle. He was upstate. We know that."

"I know we know that. I'm not trying to say he did. Of course not. But he was her drug dealer. He told me so. Around Christmas?"

"I don't care about that. He went into rehab in March, right? That means he wasn't her drug dealer when it happened. It doesn't matter. What matters is why she was there, why Antony did that-" Sasha let out a suffering groan and raised his joint to his lips, took another long drag. It hurt me to see it, but he had to do it. What was worse was that I could feel myself getting a secondary high from his smoke. I was trying to ignore it. Had been for two hours as he smoked joint after joint. He hadn't asked me if I wanted any, though. He knew I didn't.

The window was open, providing a cool breeze that kept ruffling my hair. The smoke was going out of it one of Paulie's floor fans breezing away also, but not enough.

I hated drugs so much. But this was different. The joint didn't seem like it was hurting Sasha, in fact it seemed like the only thing that could calm him down enough to have any sanity. Especially after what I'd told him an hour ago about Paulie and Miracle. And now he was telling me these things. It was dumbfounding me.

"But if he hadn't been her drug dealer, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. If she hadn't been on heroin, then maybe..." I couldn't say it. Maybe she'd still be alive.

"Yeah? And how do we know that heroin had anything to do with her death? Antony didn't say anything about drugs. That's something police assumed since they found it on her. That's what Ganya wants...wants heroin to be a part of it so that if we can find out the Caselottis dealt it...killed her because of it..." He gave a slight cough, more like a choke I thought, then put the joint back in his mouth. He looked troubled, but of course he did.

"Wants?" I said this slowly, not wanting to.

"Yeah, he wants to find a reason to get them. Heck, we knew Antony killed her. We know there were other people involved that night, too. We know he couldn't have done it himself. He's puny. You know that." He rested his hand on the edge of the couch, the joint resting there. I was watching it and I didn't even realize.

"No, I don't know that. I've never met him. Never seen him before."

"Oh." He looked at the joint too, as if trying to decide something. His brow creased. He lifted the joint back to his mouth, on the edge, but he didn't take a drag. "What I want to know," he went on, quieter now, "is who else was involved? We know where Eddie was just hours before, but did he get there, was he there?" I'd winced at what he'd said about knowing where Eddie had been, a phantom pain of the pistol's barrel. But Sasha hadn't been looking at me, rather at the distance, so he hadn't caught it. "They let Antony go because there wasn't enough hard evidence. They think he was trying to take the fall for somebody else...but that ring impression on her face. What he said in jail. I don't think they're right."

He opened his mouth again, and I was listening with rapt attention, but before he could get anything out there was a knock on the door. My hands gripped the armrests of my wheelchair, and he stared at me. The knock came again and we stared at the door together, confusion coming over us.

Shave-and-a-haircut? The knock beat out.

That wasn't our knock.

"Shit," Sasha whispered desperately at me. Heavily he got up, went to the ash tray that he'd set up on the side table next to himself and stubbed out the joint as quickly as he could. Next to it, he took up the baggie it had come in and threw it in there, stuffed it down his pants. He began to wave the marijuana smokey air away with his hand, trying to shove the intangible stuff towards the window without any success.

"Sasha, who is that?" I whispered back insistently, wanting to grab him.

"I don't know! Go into the bathroom!"

Shave-and-a-hair-cut! The knock came again, the same rhythm, the same degree of loudness. Almost calmly.

I couldn't bear the thought of him going to the door alone. It could be anybody. It could be Eddie or Antony. Inside, I felt like that was too assumptive, that it couldn't possibly be them, but was that my brain just trying to avoid it, too scared of it? I didn't know.

"No, I have to go to the door with you."

"Get in the bathroom!"

But I released the brakes on my chair and started to wheel towards the door. Where was this bravery coming from? I heard Sasha coming up behind me, quick. The palms of my hands burned on the metal attached to the wheels as he began pulling my chair back, dragging it back by the handles.

"Get in the bathroom!" He repeated, now trying to make me go.

"No!"

"Miss Paula?! You there?! I hear you! You can't hide from me!"

We froze. Something started burning in me immediately. Something- And suddenly I couldn't help it. I burst into laughter, like an explosion, like a sneeze. God the relief.

"Miss Paula! Yo!" Shave-and-a-hair-cut! That knock. That voice. It sounded like a little girl. Then my face twisted, fully realizing the situation. A young girl? Why was there a young girl at the door?

Sasha's face lowered to the peeper hole, looking through. He seemed as confused as me.

"Yo! You answered me yesterday, but you can't come to the door?!" Shave-and-a-!

Sasha swung the door open, taking care of a single lock. One lock. It didn't seem like enough.

My eyes were surprised at the sight before me, despite my fear. It was indeed a young girl, dressed in jean cut off shorts and a tan midriff top with fringe covering her flat belly. Her hair was long and dark and unruly blonde, some brown in it. Her skin was a kind of a honey-like color, I thought. In her hands was a stack of papers.

"Hello? May I help you?" Sasha asked, a lot more controlled than I thought he could be given the circumstances. Who was this girl? Why was she saying 'Miss Paula'? The more I stared at her, the more I was wondering. How did she know Paulie? Why hadn't I heard of her before? I'd definitely remember a mention of a young girl. We didn't know any young girls.

"Oh yeah, I was looking for Miss Paula. She lives here."

There was a distinct Spanish accent to her voice. It was odd. It didn't sound like any Spanish accent I'd heard around here before. Her calling him 'Miss Paula' was so strange to me, too. I'd never heard anybody call him that before.

"He's not here right now. Can I deliver him a message?" Sasha asked, all business. He wasn't going to show this girl any fear, or anything really. I admired him for it. If I'd been alone I'd be in pieces, unsure how to talk to this girl who showed up all of a sudden.

"Um, yeah. Can you give him this? It's this thing that's going on in Washington Square Park this Saturday, there's directions, where exactly it's at." She seemed to be thinking a moment, staring down at her papers. Being eye-level with them, I could see them clearly if upside-down. But in a second she brought one up and attempted to hand it to Sasha, and it was in my face.

The paper. It was a flyer in black and white, and taped to it was a big circular sticker of a purple peace sign. I only got to read the banner headline on it before Sasha snatched it away.

Give Peace a Chance, it said. Giant letters. I was momentarily shocked by it.

"Make sure he wears that sticker so we know he's one of us. We've had a big problem in the past, people coming and not being cool. He should bring a flower, too. We're having a demonstration. All the flowers represent all the soldiers that died, you know? They're peace."

"Um, okay," Sasha said. I could tell he was disturbed, too.

"Hey, you know? You should come, too. We could use all the help we can get."

Sasha was reading the paper, and I was still staring at this girl. She didn't look older than sixteen. What was she doing here? Really doing here?

"I'm sorry, your name is?" Sasha asked, looking up at her again curiously, not without suspicion I observed.

"Rosario Valencia. He knows me as Valencia." The girl was poking at the side of her papers, peeling at them. In a few seconds, she'd taken two more flyers in her hands and was holding them out to us. "You should come, too. Really."

"Um, I'll think about it." Sasha sounded unsure, taking the flyers in his other hand, still holding Paulie's up as if reading it but he wasn't reading it anymore.

"Thank you! You should really come! It's important!" The girl smiled at us. It was a really pretty smile. She had deep dimples, making her look even younger. She turned around, but then hesitated. She turned to us again, that smile on her face. "Peace," she beamed, making a V-sign with her fingers.

"Peace," I said for both us, making the same V-sign. She relaxed visibly at this and continued to grin, finally turning away and almost bouncing down the hallway.

After about thirty seconds, Sasha pulled the handles of my wheelchair to get me out of the way of the door and closed it, locking it again.

"Who the hell was that?" he sighed, clearly too overwhelmed. "I don't want people coming to the door. It's fucking too much. I don't need little girls coming and knocking on the door in the middle of the damn day." He went over to the couch and I saw him take the baggie out of his pants. In a flash, his Zippo was out and he was trying desperately to light his joint as he dropped down on the couch, his other hand cupped around the lighter so it would do its job better.

He was right, though. For the most part. Who was she? I rolled over to the table where the flyers were, picked one up. Here I could see clearly what that was about.

Give Peace a Chance! Flowers for Peace! The flyer seemed to shout at me. I lifted up the purple peace symbol sticker to read the rest. I sighed, reading the rest of it. Seeing it, thinking of that girl, I kind of did want Paulie to go. It seemed like a good activity for him, something to distract him.

"I don't think Paulie should go to that, either," Sasha breathed. Fresh pungent marijuana smell wafted up my nose and I gave a tiny cough as it muffled up my throat.

"What? Why not?" I choked, clearly my throat after.

"Why not? Did you not see her? 'Peace'? She said that, right? I bet she's a hippie, Georgina. They do drugs. I don't think he should be associated with her."

I took the sticker with my thumb and forefinger, staring at it. It looked hand drawn. "They don't all do drugs. She was so young anyway."

"He shouldn't go. I mean it."

I didn't really want to argue with him. I didn't feel up to it. Instead, I decided to change the subject. Something to get our minds off of everything. We both needed it. We'd been talking about Miracle and Paulie all morning, we were both drained. I couldn't think about any of this anymore, I needed a distraction, too.

But I couldn't think of anything to say. Sasha was on the couch puffing away, not saying anything now. After a moment, I realized he'd said the last word, and I wasn't about to make him think different.

So I just sat there, staring at the flyer in my hands, Sasha thinking one thing and me thinking another. And as I sat there, staring at the piece of paper, I realized that girl had been just the distraction we'd needed.