Pearl

Chapter Nineteen: The Storm

Lyly's shoulders tensed as she approached the mass of vibrations that emanated from the crowd of people swarming the mall entrance. Her hair was slicked to her head, as it had been since the first day she arrived in the city, to try to minimize the amount of information that wiggled its way through her sensitive feeders to her brain.

She had been in the boardinghouse for just over a week now, and still needed time to adjust to the onslaught of information that came with the incredible population difference between the isolated farmhouse and the city. She had become able to manage the surrounding atmosphere in the safety of her new neighborhood, but whenever she ventured beyond that block it was a sure precursor to a pounding headache.

"Don't get lost now," Alina said over her shoulder as Lyly paused at the entrance to the building. It was massive, larger than any enclosed space Lyly had yet to see, and was positively crawling with people.

And also rats, she realized, although they tended to stay separate from the humans.

She followed behind the slim form of her housemate, who, Lyly could tell, was about as thrilled as she was about the crowds.

"Well, here you have it, I guess," Alina said, coming to a stop by a potted plastic tree in the middle of the walkway. "The mall," she said with a sweep of her arm.

Lyly stood and stared, head craning in all directions as she took in her surroundings the old-fashioned way.

Alina was looking down at her phone, pulling up a shopping list, so Lyly took the time to let her hair fluff up just a little, testing her tolerance for the surrounding cacophony. Every time she tried, she got a little better at processing the flood of information, so she gave it a shot.

The tendrils on her head quivered ever so slightly as they recorded everything – the screams of the toddler a floor up and a hundred yards down the hall, the labored pulse of the man in the shoe store who was just weeks away from a heart attack, the thousands of footsteps that pounded pathways across her mind.

And the one pair of eyes that were glued to her face.

Lyly glanced to the side, locking eyes with the man who stared so openly. He looked to be just a little older than herself, with dark hair and darker skin than most of the people around him.

He noticed that she returned his stare and uncertainty flittered across his face. He rubbed one hand across the back of his neck and readjusted the bags in the other. But when she didn't look away, he raised a tentative finger.

"Emma?" he said uncertainly, and a small part of Lyly recoiled.

She blinked, slowly, taking in the new sensation. When she opened her eyes again, he was walking toward her, gaining confidence with every step.

"You're Emma, Emma Thompson, right?" he asked, coming close enough now that Alina looked up from her phone. She scrunched her brows together.

"Is this guy talking to you, Lyly?" she asked, and he started at the name, one foot drawing back a step as he lost whatever momentum he had gained.

"N—I'm sorry, she just looks a lot like someone I used to know," he said, the arm with the bags still half stretched out in front of him, the other rising to run a hand through his short black hair.

Alina snorted. "Is that some sort of weird pickup line or what?" she asked, and the man flushed to his ears. His free hand waved in front of his chest.

"No! Not at all. Ugh, that'd be like hitting on my little sister, with how much she looks like—are you like, related to the Thompson family?" he tried again, expression quizzical.