The Kendall Jenner of Northtown.

"Can you help me remember how to smile? Make it somehow seem worthwhile. How on Earth did I get so jaded? Life's mysteries seem so faded. I can go where no one else can go. I know what no one else knows. Here I am just a drownin' in the rain - with a ticket for a runaway train.

Run Away Train - Soul Asylum

"She looks hungry Dan. I'm going to give her one of my cookies." - Both of us were standing inside the 7-11 on the corner of Eastern & Owens when I look out the window and see my favorite barrio girl in North Las Vegas - Chamilla - standing at the bus stop:

"Hi sweetie," I say as I approach her and ask if she wants the second M&M cookie from my two pack. She smiles, says yes and thanks me for the gesture. As I watch her devour the cookie I can't help but worry about her. See, Chamilla is a five foot tall, one hundred pound, nineteen year old, runaway at fifteen, working girl who has called the streets home for the better part of four years.

"Have you been staying out of trouble? More importantly have you been keeping yourself safe?" - I ask as she crumples up the cookie wrapper and throws it in the trash bin. "You have got to be the nicest guy I have ever met," she says and then adds, "You are always so nice to me. I want you to know I appreciate you looking out for me."

I know a thing or two about street people. Most are resilient...Chamilla is no exception, but still I worry about her roaming the barrio streets. If anything ever happens to my dainty friend I would feel terrible - I've told Dan such and he harbors the same feelings, but both of us agree she is a product of her environment and pray she will live long enough to out grow it.

The bus shows and it is time for Dan and I to tell our young, wayward friend goodbye. As she enters the bus, I say again - "Please watch yourself out here. They're lots of devious people who will take advantage of you given the opportunity." She smiles at me and says - "You really are the nicest guy I know. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." I watch her take her seat on the bus and seconds later it leaves - "I hope I don't hear about her being dead one of these days," Dan comments as we watch the bus drive away. I nod in agreement.