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Authors: Melinda Metz - Fingerprints - 7
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long as she got to do her kil ing first.
Yana broke into a trot. She was so close. She just wanted to get there and do it. Get there. Do it. Get there. Do it. The thoughts repeated over and over in her mind to the rhythm of her footfal s. She turned the corner. This was it. This was the block. She was so, so close.
“For you, Mom,” Yana whispered as she started across the Wilton Center parking lot.
A guy fel in step beside her, probably around sixteen, Asian, spiky black hair. “I’d say, judging by the musculature and general attitude, kickboxing,” he said.
“Do I know you?” Yana asked. Why was he talking to her? God, al she wanted was to get inside. Get there. Do it.
“No, but you should. I’m Sam,” he answered. “So was I right? Are you here for kickboxing class?”
Yana stopped walking. “No,” she told him.
“Hmmm. Have you gone the other way, perhaps? Decided to deal with your aggression with a meditation class?” Sam asked.
“The reason I stopped walking wasn’t so you’d keep trying to hit on me. It was so you’d go away. Just so you know,” Yana said.
She crossed her arms and waited. She couldn’t do what she had to do with this freak trotting after her.
Sam laughed. She noticed that the skin underneath his chin was loose and jiggly, even though he wasn’t at al overweight.
Skinny, actual y. “I’m not hitting on you,” he protested. “Your pheromones just don’t cal out to mine-no offense. I’m sure lots of guys go for your type.”
Bul . Yana knew when a guy was checking her out, and Sam was checking her out.
“You ever heard that expression, ‘When the student is ready, the teacher appears’?” Sam went on. Like she actual y cared what he had to say. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Wel , I think you’re ready, so-” He stretched out his arms in a here-I-am gesture.
Enough. She’d been waiting most of her life for this moment. She wasn’t going to let freakboy slow her down. Get there. Do it.
Get there. Do it. It was as if her heart was speaking those words as it beat.
Take a walk around the block. Now. She hurled the thought at Sam. And he turned on his heel and left her. Final y.
Yana locked her eyes on the front doors of the Wilton Center and didn’t look away until she’d reached them. In this place, down in their little rat hole in the basement, were the government bastards who had kil ed her mother. Yana pushed her way through the doors and headed straight to the stairs. She knew right where to go, thanks to that visit she’d made here with Rae.
Rae. God. Even thinking about her was like drinking acid. I could have killed her. I could have killed her, when she’s just like me. Yana shoved the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. If she made it out of here alive, then she could apologize to Rae. Yana snorted. Yeah, right. An apology would make everything al better. Maybe she should go al out and cough up two bucks for a Hal lmark card. Because that would definitely make the fact that Yana tried to make Anthony feed Rae rat poison forgivable.
Yana reached the door leading to the stairs. She twisted the knob. The door was locked. Not a problem. Yana walked directly to the closest classroom. She stuck her head in, ignoring the senior citizens making col ages. “I need you to unlock the door to the basement stairs,” she said. She repeated the words in a thought bul et to the teacher’s head. I need you to unlock the door to the basement stairs.
“I don’t have the key,” the teacher answered.
“Who does?” Yana asked. Tell me.
“The security guy. In the room at the end of the hal . The door on the left,” the teacher said, massaging her temples with her fin gers.
“Thanks.” Yana marched down to the security station. The beefy guard didn’t look happy to see her. Guess he didn’t want to miss any of the Sex and the City rerun he had on one of the TVs he was supposed to be monitoring. Unlock the door to the ba sement stairs.
Yana broke into a trot. She was so close. She just wanted to get there and do it. Get there. Do it. Get there. Do it. The thoughts repeated over and over in her mind to the rhythm of her footfal s. She turned the corner. This was it. This was the block. She was so, so close.
“For you, Mom,” Yana whispered as she started across the Wilton Center parking lot.
A guy fel in step beside her, probably around sixteen, Asian, spiky black hair. “I’d say, judging by the musculature and general attitude, kickboxing,” he said.
“Do I know you?” Yana asked. Why was he talking to her? God, al she wanted was to get inside. Get there. Do it.
“No, but you should. I’m Sam,” he answered. “So was I right? Are you here for kickboxing class?”
Yana stopped walking. “No,” she told him.
“Hmmm. Have you gone the other way, perhaps? Decided to deal with your aggression with a meditation class?” Sam asked.
“The reason I stopped walking wasn’t so you’d keep trying to hit on me. It was so you’d go away. Just so you know,” Yana said.
She crossed her arms and waited. She couldn’t do what she had to do with this freak trotting after her.
Sam laughed. She noticed that the skin underneath his chin was loose and jiggly, even though he wasn’t at al overweight.
Skinny, actual y. “I’m not hitting on you,” he protested. “Your pheromones just don’t cal out to mine-no offense. I’m sure lots of guys go for your type.”
Bul . Yana knew when a guy was checking her out, and Sam was checking her out.
“You ever heard that expression, ‘When the student is ready, the teacher appears’?” Sam went on. Like she actual y cared what he had to say. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Wel , I think you’re ready, so-” He stretched out his arms in a here-I-am gesture.
Enough. She’d been waiting most of her life for this moment. She wasn’t going to let freakboy slow her down. Get there. Do it.
Get there. Do it. It was as if her heart was speaking those words as it beat.
Take a walk around the block. Now. She hurled the thought at Sam. And he turned on his heel and left her. Final y.
Yana locked her eyes on the front doors of the Wilton Center and didn’t look away until she’d reached them. In this place, down in their little rat hole in the basement, were the government bastards who had kil ed her mother. Yana pushed her way through the doors and headed straight to the stairs. She knew right where to go, thanks to that visit she’d made here with Rae.
Rae. God. Even thinking about her was like drinking acid. I could have killed her. I could have killed her, when she’s just like me. Yana shoved the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. If she made it out of here alive, then she could apologize to Rae. Yana snorted. Yeah, right. An apology would make everything al better. Maybe she should go al out and cough up two bucks for a Hal lmark card. Because that would definitely make the fact that Yana tried to make Anthony feed Rae rat poison forgivable.
Yana reached the door leading to the stairs. She twisted the knob. The door was locked. Not a problem. Yana walked directly to the closest classroom. She stuck her head in, ignoring the senior citizens making col ages. “I need you to unlock the door to the basement stairs,” she said. She repeated the words in a thought bul et to the teacher’s head. I need you to unlock the door to the basement stairs.
“I don’t have the key,” the teacher answered.
“Who does?” Yana asked. Tell me.
“The security guy. In the room at the end of the hal . The door on the left,” the teacher said, massaging her temples with her fin gers.
“Thanks.” Yana marched down to the security station. The beefy guard didn’t look happy to see her. Guess he didn’t want to miss any of the Sex and the City rerun he had on one of the TVs he was supposed to be monitoring. Unlock the door to the ba sement stairs.
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