Free Don't Turn Around by Michelle Gagnon

indentation that remained. She forced herself to stop. It’s just another thing, she reminded herself. And in the end, things weren’t worth worrying about. Her parents had abandoned her, anyway. It was silly of her to hold on to any piece of them.
    “That’ll be two hundred and eighty dollars and fifty-six cents,” the clerk announced.
    Noa handed over three crisp hundred-dollar bills with a pang of regret. She probably should have gone to a secondhand store instead, but she’d spent nearly her whole life wearing other people’s used clothing. She knew it was silly, but she was loath to do it again, even under these circumstances.
    Besides, she had a small fortune stashed in a savings account. She just had to get to it somehow. On the way to the store, Noa had stopped at a branch of her bank. The soonest they could get her a new debit card was tomorrow or the day after, and an emergency replacement required ID. She claimed to have left her wallet at home and fled before the questions got too pointed. As it was, she could see the bank teller trying to make sense of this teenager with a healthy bank balance and fancy laptop who smelled like a fishmonger.
    Noa was a little nervous about picking up the replacement card. She didn’t have her PO Box key, and depending on who was working the desk, they might ask for ID before handing over the contents. But the cash from Vallas wouldn’t last much longer. The PO Box was a risk she’d have to take. Although it probably wasn’t a bad idea to start setting up a new identity for herself. The guy she’d used to establish the Lathams’ social-security info was serving a three-year sentence in Concord prison. She’d have to put out feelers in The Quad for a new connection.
    Which meant getting through another couple of days on less than two hundred dollars. Not impossible under other circumstances, but she really wanted to hole up somewhere that didn’t rent rooms by the hour.
    “All set,” the clerk said.
    “Thanks. I’m going to change into some of these now, okay?”
    The girl shrugged and pointed. “Fitting rooms are in the back.”
    Noa went to the one in the far corner, pulled the curtain shut, and swiftly shed her clothes. After getting dressed, she examined herself in the mirror: black sweater, black jeans, black boots and jacket, and a white-and-black-checked scarf. It was startling to suddenly recognize herself. She’d been wearing a nearly identical outfit the day all this started. Her skin was paler from being inside more than usual, but otherwise she appeared completely unchanged.
    She tucked the laptop and extra clothing into the messenger bag and left the Apple box on the floor with the stuff she’d been wearing. At the last moment, she grabbed the knit cap. It smelled, but she still kind of liked it. And in Boston, a hat always came in handy.
    She walked out of the store without a backward glance and found a café down the block with a FREE WIRELESS ACCESS! sign posted in the window. She ordered a coffee, tall and black, then looked over the food menu. She hadn’t eaten since … well, since waking up on that table. And who knew how long it had been before that. Noa was always skinny, but her clothes were hanging more loosely than she remembered.
    She ordered a turkey sandwich and chips to go with the coffee. While she waited for the food, she rubbed the spot on the back of her hand where the IV needle had been. There was no sign of it anymore, not even a scab. And when she thought about it, her chest and foot didn’t hurt, either.
    But then, she’d always healed pretty quickly. Noa got her order and took it to a table in the corner near an outlet. She plugged in, logged in, and debated her next step. She had to find a place to stay that wouldn’t ask for a credit card or ID, preferably one she could book and pay for online.
    Less than a minute later she found a website that offered short-term rentals by owners. Better still, the money could be