Clandestine

thirty six

I brush my brown hair out of my eyes. I dyed it last night to help keep my identity a little more quiet. Sure, most people will probably recognize me walking down the street as the daughter of Marcia Quintana. But with a normal hair color and my head down, people might not care enough to look at my face. With large sunglasses and a hat, I just might be able to pass.

I dress into a sweat shirt and a pair of my least dressy jeans. They have no sequins or glitter or a fancy belt. Nothing. Well, maybe just some fancy stitching but no one should notice that.

I'm going to have to walk through a poorer district and I don't want to gather too much attention to myself. I put on my large sunglasses and pink ballcap over my hair.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I don't know if I would recognize myself walking down the street. I know that Rosalina might start crying if she saw the way I dressed.

All for the cause.

I go downstairs and find the chauffeur. In a battle of late night texting, I managed to convince my mother to let me go to a fancy boutique on the side of town where Diane lives. Through a small amount of begging and blackmail, my mother finally agreed. I didn't dare ask her in the morning if it was still okay in case she decided to change her mind. I didn't show my face until she left for work so that it hopefully never even entered her mind.

The chauffeur and I get in the car. I ask to use our small sports car instead of the limo. The limo would gain too much attention for this trip. My chauffeur raises an eyebrow at my outfit when I say what boutique I want to go to, but he doesn't dare say anything. One word of disrespect might cause him to lose his job, after all.

I ride in silence, wringing my damp hands in my lap. I don't know if this will work. I don't know if it can work. But I must try.

My chauffeur lets me out at the stop. I sweetly tell him to spend the day where he wants in town because I won't be done shopping until five. He couldn't care less as he pulls away. I smile and wait until he is far away down the street.

Then I start walking.

I mapped this out on my computer last night and I hope that I can remember the direction. I'm afraid that my mother might be tracking my cell phone so I power it off. I won't be able to look up the directions if I get lost.

I go through the streets in my head and continue walking. I reach an intersection and can't remember if I have to turn left or right. After a few minutes I take a random guess. I end up having to backtrack a few streets to get back on track.

After that mess up, I'm more careful. I run the the directions on my head in a cycle as if I stop thinking about them for a second, they might disappear.

After thirty minutes, I finally arrive at Diane's street. Just as I'm about to turn into her driveway, a car whizzes out. I duck behind a bush, praying whoever was in there didn't see me.

What if Diane was in that car? What if she's not even home? Did I come all this way for nothing? What if my mother finds out and this would have all been for nothing?

I won't know unless I knock on the door.

I stumble up the driveway and on to the cobblestone sidewalk. It's clear that the landscaping hasn't been done. Weeds are growing in the shrubs and the lawn is more than overgrown.

Perhaps Diane isn't holding up the illusion of her father as well as she thinks.

I walk up to the glass front door. I take a deep breath and knock hard twice on the door. I take a step back, hoping that I don't seem too creepy.