It could be any of those scenarios. But the guy ducked away too fast to be someone who was comfortable getting seen. Usually, being spotted is an open invitation for the paparazzi to rush over and ask invasive questions that they’ll later twist for their tabloids…
“Yup, you’re going nuts.” Misha goes for another slurpy suck on her straw. “You really should leave spotting the danger to me, anyway. You’re not very good at it.” A half-wink flashes across her face, before it scrunches up in the excruciating pleasure of a brain freeze.
“You want to get out of here?” I jump to my feet before she can answer. Whatever reason someone has for following me, it is a sign to keep moving. “On the off chance your radar’s broken andmine isn’t.”
“Sure.” Her chair grinds against the floor when she stands. “Where to next?”
“Shall we just walk around? Some retail therapy might calm me down.” I latch onto her wrist and pull her far away from the food court.
Keeping my attention high, we stroll past one store after the next for a bit, until Misha finds a clothing retailer with signs outside that brag about having all the latest and hottest fashion out of Japan. Jackets with color-shifting LEDs. Experimental temperature regulating bodysuits. Headwear that links to your smartphone…
The future really is now.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, glancing at the price tag on a glittery dress. It comes in at half my paycheck, and the number makes me sick to the stomach. “We can’t afford this stuff.”
“We can’t, but do you know who can?” A devilish little grin spreads across her face.
“Don’t say it…” I groan.
“The Crawfords.”
“Our parents can too,” I remind her. “But that isn’tourmoney.”
“Well, it sort of is, if you think about it.” Misha crosses her arms. One hand stays halfway behind, a finger left tapping against her chin as if stuck in deep contemplation. “It’s all coming to us someday, regardless. Why not play around with the inheritance a little?”
I know she’s joking but an uncomfortable heat flushes over every inch of my skin anyway. Maybe it’s because of that earlier encounter outside, but I’m more inclined to believe it’s because I want no part in that sort of thinking. It’s easy to lose track of yourself, when money isn’t an issue. Without struggle or purpose, it’s easy to fall into the trap of living a life so void and meaningless, there’s very little use in living it at all.
That’s why, although I don’t approve of her methods, I’m glad Mom has never given up or become complacent, even when she might have been tempted to. Her drive has taught me that this world is a cold and cruel place, and relying on others is a surefire way to become its victim.
I sigh, and take Misha’s hand.
“I think we should go.” This time, I don’t mean to a different store.
It’s time to face the music. To integrate myself into the Crawford household and become acquainted with my new life.
“What?” Misha pouts, but she comes with me, albeit reluctantly. “Come on. I was messing around, trying to make you feel better.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
We merge with the bustling crowd flooding the main hall. Misha says something, but her words are drowned out by the loud hum of people pushing past and the music that emanates from every other shop or vendor.
And then, just like before, it hits me. An uneasy jolt of lightning that courses up my spine. The weight of a nameless, faceless pair of eyes pushes me down.
I speed up, making haste toward the wide-open doors in the distance.
Every part of me screams,Don’t do it.Don’t look back. But the dangerous curiosity is too overwhelming for me to ignore, and I do. Just a quick glance over my shoulder, enough to see if I can spot him… her… whoever.
Stupidis the only conclusion I can reach.
Shoppers, salesmen and more, all swarm around and between each other. None of them seem particularly suspicious, yet none of them are above suspicion. With so many people, it’s like looking for an incredibly small needle in a planet-sized haystack. Midnite City’s mega-malls house thousands of faces every day.
My fear only intensifies, knowing that the voyeur could be anywhere. It settles deeper into me, gnawing at the marrow of my bones, until my whole body feels numb and heavy.
Misha grabs my wrist and tugs it to slow me down. That breaks the swelling tension long enough for me to breathe.
“Lil? What’s going on?” she asks, her free hand moving to my shoulder for comfort. “Tell me so I can help.”
“Nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile and starting for the exit once more. I move more slowly this time, to add believability to what I’ve said.
