So this was before me.
Why is this still here, but my mother is gone?
Did she really die? Did she leave me?
Digging deeper, I find more things in the purse. An old wallet. Credit cards. A student ID from the University of Alaska, Anchorage.
She was pretty.
And she looked like me—just not pink. Same build. Same oval face. Maybe... Maybe someone would even say I was pretty like her, I think, hardly daring to breathe as I reverently stroke the woman’s picture.
We even wear our hair the same, I think, touching my scalp and letting my fingers ghost over the tiny growths that are as hard as bone, and flow into long, silky tresses.
Further searching doesn’t reveal anything useful—not to me. Of course, I don’t know what I’m looking for.
You’re looking for a way out.For things that will help you get away, and you need to do it soon.
But without those things that Lesha said, I think I’m stuck. Even if I could find one of those nanny sites, I bet they want some papers or proof of who I really am—and I don’t know who that is right now.
And even if everything was perfect, they didn’t ask any questions, you found the right job, and they paid for your tickets on a bus or a plane... How would you get there? You don’t know anything beyond the walls of this little house. How to get to the nearest city. Nothing that would save you.
But Sarah is out.
No one is here to stop me from tapping and typing, or poking and looking.
I hold the short, shimmering dress tight and pull other items from the trunk. These clothes might actually fit. My mother’s ID... in a hat, scarf, and coat... Could I pass for her with herstudent ID? Would people look at the year it was issued and wonder why I’m still a student twenty-five years later?
Don’t know. Have to risk it, or I could be a prisoner here forever.
Or worse.
I make a plan in my head, whispering aloud to give it a nudge into reality.
“Step One: Find a way out. Step Two: Find a place to go. Step Three: Find a way to get there.
Step Four: Disguise myself, pack my things, and leave home.” I stop and nod firmly, then sigh and slump. I think as I gather up the clothing, shoes, and things that might work for my getaway, things that might help me disguise my freakishness. “Great. I’m working backwards. But... At least I’m working.”
Chapter Three: October Ninth
October 9th, 2025
Pine Ridge, New York
Do you know what computer nerds do when they get a break from their computer nerd jobs? Play computer games. Play video games. We live and die by the screen; our friendships are all online.
Assuming, of course, that you didn’t grow up in a bunch of group homes where the skinny weaklings never got a turn with the consoles. Or in strict foster homes that believed all video games were violent and that talking to people online meant you were going to run away with some dude selling candy in an unmarked van.
Now that I’m on my own—I have a sweet gaming setup. Community college scholarships for foster kids got me my first IT job. Money from that got me online courses. Being a shy, nerdy person gave me a work ethic borne out of boredom and a desperate desire to please people so I wouldn’t be sent away.
So when I have free time, I might play for a little bit, but I usually do more work. The AI is everywhere, and it eats coders like me for breakfast. In the last month, I’ve done more troubleshooting for horrific advice and dangerous mistakes made by AI than I’ve done actual coding—and yet people are still calling for it to replace us humans. I think maybe AI is working on it. Yesterday, the AI assistant at MenuGenius updated all of Parmi-Johnny Reggie-ani’s Casual Italian online menus to state that their entire menu was dairy-free. Yes, even the four-cheesepizza, the ricotta-stuffed manicotti, and the creamy vegetarian Tuscan bean soup.
It was an allergic reaction of epic proportions waiting to happen, and guess who had to undo it while the AI was trying to fight every correction? Me.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m clocking out,” I groan and log off. Fourteen hours at a desk in a dark spare bedroom. When I walk into the hall, I actually scream at the bright fall sunlight that sears my retinas.
I could sleep.
I definitely need to eat.
