Unsung

Chapter Three

I watched in awe and baffled surprise as the blonde caught up to the Running Girl faster than I could process what was going on. When it looked like she might actually end up passing the girl, she lunged at her instead, taking her to the ground like a football player on a Friday night.

They both let out loud "Ooof"'s as their bodies hit the concrete, and I cringed at the thought of how much it must have hurt. They'd be lucky if they only ended up with road rash; broken bones even seemed a likely possibility given the harshness of the impact.

But instead of lying there hurt, the blonde seemed to use the fall to propel her body back up into a standing position, as if it had been her plan all along. The other girl however, was so shocked to find herself on the ground, that all she could do was scramble onto her back and look up at her attacker.

Her attacker who was now standing over her as if nothing had happened.

As the No-Longer-Running Girl made a move like she was going to get up, the blonde placed her bootied foot on top of the girl's chest warningly. No-Longer-Running Girl thought better of her plan and stopped moving, this time for good.

Air wooshed around me, causing my hair to fly across my face and obstruct my view for a few seconds. Swiping it out of my eyes, I saw that the two guys from the store had finally passed me and were racing over to where the blonde was now holding the other girl hostage on the ground.

My own feet were moving before I even realized it and I followed the guys over, my stomach doing flip-flops as we drew closer.

"She belong to you?" the blonde asked the store workers as they finally reached her side. Both guys were breathing heavily. The blonde was barely winded.

"Yeah," one managed to get out. "She stole that bag."

The blonde leaned over, her foot still planted on the shoplifter's chest, and snatched the purse from the ground in one impressive motion. The bag looked simple enough. Red, no frills from what I could see. Certainly didn't seem worth stealing to me. The blonde regarded it closely and then nodded before handing it over to the clerk.

"Prada," she said, sounding impressed. "Nice. Go big or go home, am I right?"

She'd said it in an almost appreciative tone to the girl she was currently using as a human sidewalk, but didn't wait for a response. Instead, she removed her foot and helped the girl to her feet, gripping her upper arm tightly so she couldn't escape.

"Thanks for the help," one of the guys said, as if he were only just now noticing that their savior also happened to be an attractive teenage girl. One about our own age, I might add. "That was kind of awesome."

"Kind of?" the blonde responded, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Just as the guy reached out to clamp his own hand around the shoplifter's other arm, she suddenly threw a wild swing in the blonde's direction. I gasped loudly and jumped backwards even though I was in no way close enough to be caught in the crossfire. Without hesitating, the blonde blocked the punch and then pulled the offender's arm behind her back so she couldn't do any more damage.

"Wrong move, Lindsey Lohan," the blonde said, handing her over to the store guys, this time making sure they were holding onto her tightly before she let go. She slipped around them until she was standing right in front of the girl, arms crossed over her chest. "You know, you coulda just bought a knock-off for like, twenty bucks in China town. Way less embarrassing than explaining this to your loser friends. Besides, cuffs totally aren't on trend anymore."

Then, the blonde started to walk away.

"Wait, the cops are on the way. Shouldn't you stick around?" one of the clerks asked, his voice squeaking nervously.

"Probably," the blonde said, glancing back and flashing him a grin. "But I've got somewhere to be."

Then she turned a corner and disappeared.