The Girl Who Would Be King(6)

The disease, Aveline called it.

I’m not wild about that word.

I fold up the letter, which seems to absolve me, and put it on the dresser. I don’t feel very absolve-y. I sit on the bed thinking about everything that’s happened in my life until now, waiting for it to be late enough – dark enough – to go out. It’s a long time and I’m not sure how much I like being alone with my thoughts like that. A few days ago maybe it would have been easier, but now it almost feels like I’m not alone. Certainly a lot of my thoughts seem new and strange. Next time I’ll just turn on the TV.

I slip out of the motel as quietly as possible. Ironically, the lights that had seemed so appealing now seem like a horrible idea, since despite the late hour, it’s lit up like freaking noon outside. I make for the darkness of an alley, hoping I’ll blend in better. Once there I relax a bit, but am disheartened to realize that any antics I pull will need to be in the less exciting neighborhoods of Vegas and away from all these bright lights. I have no big plans, but I still want to have them.

At first I just walk around the quiet, deserted streets trying to think of an epic idea, but nothing comes, and so after another hour with no ideas, I decide to rob the first decent-looking jewelry store I see. As luck would have it, the first good shop has a ridiculous, blingy diamond necklace on display. It has no business being left out and not covered up; even I, with my tenth grade education, know this. Someone’s probably getting fired over leaving it out, because that necklace is mine now. I know it like I know my own name. I stand at the window for a few minutes making sure there’s no cage that’s going to trap me once I’m inside, because I’ve totally seen that happen in movies. I check the street like a thousand times, making sure nobody is around, and once I’m sure, I pull on the metal security gate, snapping it open with ease. Once the glass is exposed, I send my elbow through it as hard as I can. The glass comes crashing down all around me as the alarms break into the quiet night air. I reach into the opening and pull a second set of metal gates open, snapping the padlock in the process. It has taken less than ten seconds. I jump inside the window and hop out onto the store floor. I keep my head down in case any cameras are looking my way and reach out and snatch the necklace off the headless display mannequin. With my prize still dangling from my hand I dive out the window and roll onto the pavement like a freaking Olympic gymnast; I almost wish for crowds to cheer me on.

And then I hear the sirens above the security alarm.



°

Visions of powerful superheroes dance around behind my eyes and my imagination flies out of the room and around the whole world. But my fantasies are soon interrupted by yelling in the back yard. At first it sounds only like teenagers chatting but it ramps up and something about the tone sends a chill down my spine. I roll off my bunk and lean against the open window nearby. The only staff is far away, out of normal hearing distance, and the small cluster of girls are near the house. Now the voices have turned to shouting. At first their grouping is so tight I can’t tell who is who, or what’s happening, but then a dark-haired girl named Jenny comes flying backward out of the circle and lands on her back roughly. The pack gets eerily quiet and two of the girls go to her aid, but she brushes them off and stands up on her own. Her defiance ignites a spark of admiration and respect in me. She walks back to the group, and two of her other friends are still standing there, mouths open, stunned. I think briefly of going down but am intrigued and impressed by Jenny’s bravery. I want to see what she’ll do next. Sharon looks to be the one that pushed her. She’s new and has been making trouble since day one, but I’m glad to see someone’s over it and not afraid to stand up to her. Unfortunately, Jenny is rewarded for her bravery with a slap. The slap shocks even me. It seems like the kind of thing an adult would do, not kids in a yard. Jenny is still recoiling from the impact when Sharon tears a silver chain roughly from her neck. Jenny shrieks and her friends spring into action. Watching them is the first time I’ve ever really longed for friends in a tangible way. There’s something so passionate about their loyalty. They’re no match for Sharon, though. Hannah is tiny and delicate and goes down easily with a hard shove; Margaret, a little taller and sturdier takes a punch to the abdomen and ends up catching her breath on the brown grass. The other two just get mowed over as Sharon runs from them, shoving Jenny into the side of the building. Then they’re out of my sightline and so I race down the stairs barefoot to see if I can help.