Chapter 5

I CAN HEAR them shouting before I even reach the alley.

“Give it back!” the woman is hollering. “Or I swear to god I’ll—”

The jangle of things falling to the ground. I peek around the corner. Man #1 is upending the woman’s purse all over the pavement. He picks up a brown wallet and pokes through the pockets.

“No cash in here.” He fishes out a crumpled bill. “Except this.”

Man #2 shoves the woman into the wall. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” the woman snaps. “We split up a week ago.”

“Do you know where he might be?”

“I don’t know!”

“Keep it quiet. We don’t want to draw attention.”

“We?” The woman snarls a laugh. “I didn’t realize it was we.”

“We all hate Aaron here, don’t we?” Man #2 plants a hand on the wall, right beside the woman’s head. “One last time, Zahira. Where. Is. He?”

The woman—Zahira—gets real close to him. “I. Don’t. Know.”

“Alright, enough.” Man #1 drops the wallet and flicks out a pocket knife. “Talk, or we start—”

“Dude,” Man #2 hisses. “Not here.”

Man #1 makes a throaty sound. “What are we supposed to do then?”

“We take her hostage. Force Aaron out.”

Zahira growls. “Like hell you will.”

She kicks him in the shin with her heeled boot and runs.

Or tries to. Man #1 catches her around the waist and wrestles her back.

“Let go!” Zahira yells, beating him with fists, elbows, and boots. “Let go or I’ll scream!”

“Yeah?” Man #1 says. “We’ll be gone by the time the cops get here.” He nods to Man #2. “Get her legs.”

I step into the alley. “Let her go.”

They don’t jump like I was hoping they would. But they do look at me with alarm.

“Nothing’s happening here, kid,” says Man #2, while Man #1 drops Zahira. “Run back to your mom and dad now.”

I glance at Zahira. Man #1 has her arm trapped in a tight grip. She’s looking at me incredulously at first, and then with a clear warning: get the hell out of here.

I don’t listen to her.

I step forward and say, as low as I can, “Leave her alone.”

“I’m not sure you understand what’s happening here,” Man #2 says. “This is adult business. Run along now.”

I don’t listen to him either.

I clench my fists, and sparks launch Man #2 into the brick wall. Zahira yelps. Or maybe it’s Man #1. I’m not sure, and I don’t care. I focus the next spark on the hand gripping Zahira’s arm. 

Crack! 

Man #1 screams, clutching his hand, and then I blast him back one meter, two meters, until he crashes and rolls on the ground.

Both men are out cold now. I turn to Zahira. She looks at me with shoulders bunched to her ears, mouth hanging open.

Then she turns and books it.

“Wait!” I try to follow her, but the world shrinks and squeezes my brain and I have to put a hand on the wall to stay standing. Pain rips up my side, like a running cramp but a thousand times worse. I shake my head, blinking and blinking again to push the dizziness away.

In the annoyingly long time it takes for me to recover, Zahira could have gotten away already. But luckily for me, there’s a chain link fence on the other end of the alley, and Zahira is having a hard time even beginning to climb it.

“Wait,” I say again, and manage a few steps towards her. “I’m not—I just saved you!”

She whirls around, pressing her back to the fence. Her eyes are filled with tears, which is just ridiculous. She definitely wasn’t crying when the men were threatening her, but she’s scared of me?

“Please,” she says in a trembling voice. “I didn’t see anything. I swear.”

“Wait. Just listen.” I crouch down, careful not to pass out, and dig through Man #1’s pockets until I find a simple black wallet. “I can pay you.” I stand back up, this time really in danger of fainting. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish I could shout at the world to stop spinning. “I can pay you. I just need you to drive me to Ornament County.”

Zahira stares at me, watery eyes flickering between my face and the wallet.

“I won’t use my powers on you. Promise.” I lift my hands like I’m surrendering. It seems like the right thing to do. “I just need a ride.”

Zahira covers her eyes and crouches down, shaking her head as if trying to break out of a bad dream. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “Oh my god.” She looks up. At me. At the men on the ground. At the wallet. At me again. And buries her face in her hands.

She just might stay like that forever.

After a billion years, she gets up and stuffs everything back into her purse. She searches Man #2’s pockets and fishes the cash out of his wallet.

“For the record,” she says, pointing at me with the folded wad of money, “this is insane.” She wipes her eyes. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She leads the way to her car as the men groan and start to wake. When we pass the diner, I say, “Hold on.”

I hurry inside and see it there, on the pick-up counter: Zahira’s hashbrown. I grab it, and the cashier yells, “Hey!” but I’m already out the door.

Zahira is standing beside her pink car, anxiously tapping her foot and looking at the alley. When she sees me coming, she gets into the car and buckles up. I plunk into the passenger seat and try to catch my breath.

Zahira eyes my hashbrown.

“Do you still want this?” I ask.

She shakes her head, a little bewildered.

I nod. “Good.”

And I devour it in three bites.