Free The Girl in the Gray Sweatshirt by Ann Aguirre Page A

finds out because this wil certainly impact her
    mood, which in turn influences extremis. And he’s so
    eager to recruit her. Yeah, he’ll have my ass if he
    catches me.
    I don’t even care.
    Quickening my step, I hurry past. A woman is standing
    in a shop doorway, handing out cinnamon rol
    samples. She brightens when she sees me, but that
    reaction has lost its shine. If I’d known the pitfalls
    beforehand, I wouldn’t have wished to be handsome.
    But when you hit extremis young, there’s just so much
    you don’t know and could never imagine. Now I’m bait
    on a hook, a walking invitation for someone else to
    repeat my mistakes.
    “Can I help you?” she asks.
    “My friend in the gray sweatshirt is having a rough day.
    She’d be upset if she knew I was seeing her this way,
    so I was wondering...”
    The clerk nods and smiles, taking my money with a
    conspiratorial smile. “Get going before she spots you,
    I’ll take care of it.”
    I find a café two doors down and wait with an
    anticipation I haven’t felt in a while. My target—and
    the girl I’ve come to like—is approaching the bakery.
    It’s ridiculous that I care when I’ve only watched from
    a distance. In her eyes, I’d be a stalker. Or worse. It
    doesn’t matter that I wouldn’t do this if I had a choice.
    The end does not justify the means, Mr. Machiavelli.
    But maybe I can offer her a spark of joy. Anonymously.
    Now she’s at the door to the pastry shop. Though I
    can’t hear what’s being said, my girl accepts a sweet
    bun from the tray. She looks bewildered but pleased,
    like random good things never happen to her. If I keep
    this up, she’l smile before the end of the day; I know
    she will.
    Now I have a goal, and it’s better than the usual
    surveillance.
    Head down, I pretend to peruse the menu when she
    ambles by, nibbling her treat. But I don’t linger; the
    waitress gives me a look when I get up from the patio
    table without ordering. Mouthing an apology, I rush
    on. I need to get ahead of her and see what else she’d
    like that’s on this street. The pastry was just an
    impulse, so I have to do better next time. Let’s see, I
    know she loves games and comics—that she’s into
    SF—and she reads a lot.
    Aha. There’s a used bookstore on the corner. Well, it’s
    more of a consignment store, but they have books,
    too. I pass her again, knowing that this risk could end
    badly. The more I move around her, the greater the
    probability that she’ll notice me. I’m willing to gamble
    since there’s other foot traffic. Anyway, I don’t think
    she’d ever suspect the truth, not in a thousand years.
    People as special as she is never seem to believe it, no
    matter how many times they hear it.
    As long as she doesn’t turn off, this should work out
    fine. I do my bit with the clerk inside and she agrees to
    wait at the doorway and offer a gift certificate as a
    “limited promotion”. This time, there’s nowhere for
    me to wait, so I cross the street and keep my eyes on
    the girl in the gray sweatshirt, quietly trundling toward
    the intersection. Everyone pushes past her and one
    guy bumps into her so hard, she stumbles. He doesn’t
    pause or apologize. I’m tempted to fol ow him and
    pound the shit out of him, but then I’d miss out on her
    reaction to my next surprise.
    She’s alarmed when the clerk stops her. At first she
    shakes her head—no, not interested—and then she
    apparently realizes she’s being offered a prize. She
    cocks her head, dubious, but the cashier is earnest,
    probably because I tipped wel . No, you don’t have to
    buy anything, no hidden fees. But here’s a $20 gift
    certificate good for anything in our store. They talk a
    little more before my girl goes inside. I’m waiting for
    half an hour before she comes out again, carrying a
    smal cloth tote bag ful of books.
    Her expression is definitely brighter, no secret tears.
    She lifts her head a little, so when she moves on, I can
    see her chin