The sticky dough dripped off my fingers as I blew a stray strand of hair out of my eyes.
This is a lot tougher than she made it look, I thought. I eyed the oozing blob of dough on the countertop with suspicion. There was still half the butter to go into this dough and I was already losing the battle with the cloying mess.
“I can’t believe you hacked the store’s security cameras,” Sophie said in awe. The laptop screen illuminated Caleb’s dark apartment. In the bottom right corner, a tiny display read 12:57.
“Child’s play.” Caleb puffed his chest out. “In fact, I hacked everything. I can run the whole show from this laptop. Of course, it helps that management actually trusts me.”
I hefted my dad’s old army binoculars back into position and scanned the yard for our target. No one wanted to acknowledge the truth, but the facts were undeniable.
“How long we gotta keep this up, Mikey? It’s cold up here, and we only got the one binoculars.” Calvin rubbed his mitten-covered hands together and scowled from behind the coils of his knitted scarf.
“Quarantine means no going outside, old man,” the guard growled beneath his face mask. Well over six feet with a vice-like grip, he dragged me inside as his name tag bobbed in and out of my peripheral vision. Pickerman was clearly stamped in sparse utilitarian lettering.
“Just going for a walk, sonny,” I said…
Where is she? I crouched on the roof of a flat, stone building overlooking a cobbled alley, pulling the brim of my cavalier hat closer to my nose. She promised to be here an hour ago. I rose slowly. I should get back to the zeppelin now. The crew will be wondering what happened to me.
Read it now
Muzzy from sleep, I worked my way up from under the soil.
The Alarm has sounded! We must rise!
After emerging, I dusted off my tattered clothing, working gently so as not to abrade the grey skin on my palms. My shirt appeared more frayed than last time.
Well, what did I expect?
“Hello!” I flounced over to another group of people before anyone from the first could respond. “Hello!” Seeing their confused expressions, I chuckled and skipped down the sidewalk.
When I heard a woman speaking Spanish into her cell phone, I couldn’t help but exclaim “¡Hola! ¡Soy Leah!” She glared at me, but I was too giddy to care. I had a bet to win.
“I had been planning to spend my afternoon curled up by the fire with a good book and a cup of tea.” I picked a crumbling burnt-orange leaf out of my hair and tossed it to the ground. “Instead, I’m tramping through the woods on the hunt for an imaginary monster because you didn’t want to go on your own.”
Read it now
November 9. The best and worst day of my life.
I paced my minuscule apartment, plagued by a frenetic excitement that made my fingers twitch and gut clench. Outside, a frigid, torrential downpour assaulted Portland, obscuring the cityscape.
Dad’s ringback music played in my ear. On the last note, he picked up.
“’Ello?” He sounded almost… groggy.
“Mr. Thompson left his house, truck, and bank account to you, Courtney. Kim, he left you his… catapult.” I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the older sister’s understandable outrage. Dealing with this kind of reaction is the toughest part of my job.
But it was Courtney who sprang to her feet.
I made a last perusal of the place settings and brushed a hand down my cocktail dress. Perfect. The smell of turkey and buttered rolls filled our apartment.
Our friends would arrive any moment.
Gloria stomped into the room, still dressed in sweats and a stained t-shirt.
“What’s your problem?” I propped my hands
“I’m not good at being a human,” I explain, crunching a dead leaf under my feet as I take a step closer to the sidewalk bench. “I’ve been practicing, but I’m amateur at best. Humans, they’re… close to what I am, but I can’t avoid making them nervous around me.”
Big Ben chimes the late hour several blocks away.
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