The Slum Heirs

Two

Two

The knot in the pit of my stomach was the first sign that I should turn around and leave. Quickly. Girls like me weren't supposed to be on this side of town, walking down dark streets in Gucci heels and a Prada dress. Some would say I was asking for trouble.

Well, maybe I was. I only knew I wanted to be somewhere nobody would find me. Not my father. Not my best friend. And definitely not Marc. I just wanted to be alone, and the Slums were my best chance of finding that sense of freedom.

My steps slowed as I realized what I was doing. Where I was. I'd never been this far from home before, or this deep into the city. Someone whistled to my left, but when I looked, no one was there. Pulling my coat tighter around my body, I started walking again.

The Slums looked way worse than I'd ever imagined. I'd heard about them from my father. His company planned to tear them down to build new housing and new shopping centers. He always talked about how dirty they were, how full of crime and dangerous. And walking down the street at midnight, I could see where he'd get that idea. It was dirty. And dark. But dangerous? Well, no one had mugged me yet.

I stopped and sat on the sidewalk, not caring that my dress was white and probably ruined. I put my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands, rubbing at my sore eyes. I could still feel the tear tracks on my cheeks, cold in the later September evening. "What am I doing?" I mumbled, sighing into my hands.

"I was wonderin' the same thing," someone said from behind me.

My heart leapt into my throat as I stood and spun around, nearly twisting my ankle in my heels. A hand reached out and grabbed my elbow to steady me, but released me immediately afterwards.

"Woah, woah, missy. Didn't mean ta startle ya." The man in front of me held up his hands, as if to make himself appear less threatening. Though, to be honest, he wasn't scary at all. He had graying hair and a kind smile that wrinkled his forehead. He had on a tee shirt from a band I'd never heard of and ripped jeans, but they weren't as dirty as I'd expected. He looked nice. Like a rocker grandpa taking his grandkids to their first concert.

But I'd learned the hard way that looks could be deceiving.

"It's alright," I said, slipping my hands into the pocket of my coat. My fingers closed around the small cylindrical bottle of pepper spray hidden there, and the furious beating of my heart eased slightly. "I should be going." Turning, I started back down the street in the direction I'd come. Footsteps followed me, but I forced myself to keep calm. Freaking out would not help. My grip on the pepper spray tightened, my palm sweaty against the metal tube. Why had I thought this was a good idea?

"Miss? Where you runnin' off to so fast? We've only just met," the man said, trotting so we were walking side-by-side.

I shot him a sideways glance. "I need to get home. Curfew, you know?" I smiled, like I was leaving because I had to and not because he creeped me out.

The man checked his watch, whistling. "It's after midnight, girlie. Some curfew ya got there. Sure you don't wanna stay the night out here? Under the stars?" He raised his arms above his head, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. I glanced up, but I didn't see any stars. Only dark clouds, and the pale outline of the moon behind them.

The truth was, I did want to stay out here. At least, I didn't want to go home. I wasn't sure I could face my parents yet. Pretend everything with Marc had gone fine, and that there was a logical excuse for being out so late. But I had to go somewhere.

"I should really get home," I said again, quickening my pace. My heels clicked against the street, each click followed by a thud from his boots. Stupid, stupid, Mikaela! I really needed to learn how to walk without disappearing into my head.