Free Transcendence by C. J. Omololu

the park.” I can hear myself rambling, but am powerless to stop.
    “Well,” Kat says, scraping her chair back. “I’ve got to go.” Subtlety isn’t exactly her strong point.
    Griffon stands up partway. “Do you have to go too?” he asks me, actually sounding like he wants me to stay.
    I look up at the clock, knowing I should get home and finish the hours of homework and practice I have, but wanting desperately not to leave.
    Kat jumps in. “It’s Wednesday, and Mom doesn’t cook on Wednesdays. Tae Kwon Do night.” She glances at me. “So you miss a little practice time. Who’s going to know?”
    “Actually, I’m starving. Want to go and get something to eat?” he asks me. “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to get back.”
    Despite the fact that I know he’s only trying to be nice, the thought of spending a few hours alone with him makes my heart race. It’s like I’ve been handed another chance, and I’m determined to keep my mouth shut and not go on like an idiot. “I’d like that,” I say, trying not to sound too grateful.
    We leave Kat at her car and continue down the street. It feels good to be walking next to Griffon—even though he’s a lot taller than I am, he matches his pace to mine so I don’t have to rush to catch up. I inch closer to him as we walk, barely into his personal space, but he doesn’t move away, just looks over at me and grins. The sidewalks are starting to get busy with the transition from daytime shoppers to people coming home from work. Rolldown doors clatter as the shop owners secure their stores for the night.
    “So, what’s good around here?” he asks. “I don’t get into the city very often.”
    “Yeah. Apparently you’ve only been here a few times,” I say, parroting his words at the café that day. I know that sounds bitchy, but I can’t help it. The mixed signals I’m getting from him are driving me crazy.
    Griffon looks embarrassed, which for some reason makes me happy. “Okay, slightly more than a few,” he admits. “Look, I’m sorry about that—”
    I wave the comment away like I don’t even care. Except I’m beginning to realize that I do care. I care a lot. “It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to explain.”
    “I do, though. I should have told you the truth about where I live. But you took off so quickly.” Griffon stops walking and stands in front of a gated flower shop, the faint smell of roses still hanging in the air. “Anyway, I knew I’d see you again.”
    I stop too and study his face, desperately wanting to believe him. “How? You don’t even know my last name.”
    “These things have a way of working out,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “And I knew that Owen would get your sister’s information.”
    “She might not have given it to him,” I say, although that’s a complete lie. Kat probably wrote her info in Sharpie across his hand before she left. “You don’t know my sister.”
    “True. But I do know Owen. He would have never let her get away.” Griffon flashes a quick smile, then looks around at the buildings on the block. “So, where should we eat?”
    Slowly I look around at the street signs and try to figure out where we are. Veronique’s boyfriend is Italian, and I’d overheardMom asking her about a restaurant in North Beach that’s supposed to be nice and not too expensive. I mentally calculate how much money I have in my wallet and kick myself for not asking Kat for a twenty. “Do you like Italian?”
    “Sure.”
    “I think it’s just a couple of blocks this way,” I say, leading us around the busy corner.
    I find the place without any trouble, amazed that for once I actually remember the name of a restaurant. I can easily memorize all of the notes in an entire concerto, but usually mess up on little details like book titles and restaurant names. As Griffon reaches for the front door, his phone rings. He glances down at the display and then back to me. “I need to get this.