'up and saw that she'd have to pass through a metal detector with airport-style security.
Four more armed policemen stood on either side of the detector, along with two more security guards.
"EMPTY YOUR POCKETS!" snapped a guard.
Caitlin noticed the other kids filling small plastic containers with items from their pockets. She quickly did the same, inserting her ipod, wallet, keys.
She shuffled through the detector, and the alarm shrieked.
"YOU!" snapped a guard. "Off to the side!"
Of course.
All the kids stared as she was made to raise her arms, and the guard ran the handheld scanner up and down her body.
"Are you wearing any jewelry?"
She felt her wrists, then her neckline, and suddenly remembered. Her cross.
"Take it off," snapped the guard.
It was the necklace her grandmother gave her before she passed, a small, silver cross, engraved with a description in Latin which she never had translated. Her grandmother told her it was passed down by her grandmother. Caitlin wasn't religious, and didn't really understand what it all meant, but she knew it was hundreds of years old, and it was by far the most valuable thing she owned.
Caitlin lifted[...]'
