Page 39 of Privilege

“Mrs. Perez…I, come on.” I urge her to take it.

“Not today, Vale Adamson,” she sings and turns away. I tuck the bill in the tip jar and slouch around theside of the stand, scanning the crowded market for Amity.

I’m on Forge business, to find out more about her, but the mission feels a little more personal than that. My eye finally catches on brown wavy hair on a tall girl near the entrance.

I don’t move right away, just clock her and wait for the girl to turn so I can see if it’s her. Something about the way she walks, a little unsure, standing straight as a rod, like she’s forcing herself to appear brave and confident, makes me think I found her.

Frustratingly, she doesn’t turn so I push off where I’m leaning, finishing the end of the empanada and throwing the wrapper in the trash, and push through the crowd. I keep the wavy hair in my line of sight, but with space between us, in case she turns around.

Then the girl gets in line at the coffee truck and turns a little, and it’s Amity.

My foot takes a step toward her before I catch myself and slink back. I see it’s her now, her flashing eyes and pretty, freckled face. I need to hold back and assess more before I talk to her. My eyes wander down her body. She’s wearing tight jeans that hug her long legs, and a leather jacket with a knit cap pulled over her shorter hair.

As she waits in line, she’s talking to someone. The man in front of her turns, and I tense, but he’s laughing at something she said and answering her back. I don’t trust him.

Once she has her coffee she clutches it in her hands, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed over the cup. I instinctively breathe in with her, then catch myself. WeirdPS stuff, to match your breathing to other people. I hate that they’re in my head.

Now she walks a little slower, not wanting to spill, drinking her coffee as she takes in the market. The smart thing would be to follow her from a distance, then I’d learn where she’s staying, which would tell us a lot.

But I’m not leaving without talking to her. I want her to laugh like that for me, look in my eyes while she says something, anything. I continue to trail her, wondering what she’s after, meditating on the way she walks and what happened to all her hair, until she stops in the last place I expected. Directly in front of the knife dealer.

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