“Matt! You’re here. Finally. We need to go before—what happened?”
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Kasha stood frozen in the middle of the road, mid step. She had clearly been ready to go, but had paused when she seen my wild look.
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I was out of breath when I answered. “Th-they’re gone,” I stuttered. “I looked everywhere but they were-they were gone. No trace. They only left behind these.”
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I took my mom’s glasses out of my pocket, my hands shaking. I fumbled them over to Kasha, who took them and put them on.
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“Hmmm.” She cocked her head, looking confused for a moment, then I watched in bewilderment as she did something I could only describe as an extremely improvised dance. She flailed her arms, kicking upward, her upper half lurching towards the ground every so often. I was completely taken aback. To my relief, she stopped after a few seconds.
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“That’s weird,” she said. She took off the glasses and handed them back to me. “I saw myself.”
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“Oh, so that’s why you were doing...whatever that was,” I said. “You were testing it?”
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“I think it’s some sort of glass that looks through your eyes.”
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“Did you see any words?” I asked carefully. She shook her head.
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“No. Only myself.”
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Interesting. I put the glasses on again, expecting to see four words, but instead I got what I would normally see. Kasha stood casually, illuminated by an ancient street light by the road. Her green eyes stared at me intently. Suddenly, a wave of anger at nothing in particular rushed through me and I whipped the glasses off, shoving them into my pocket. I didn’t care if they were broken, or if one of the many rhinestones fell off, only about getting out of here.
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“You know what? Let’s go,” I said forcefully. “We can’t waste any more time. There’s nothing good here anyway.”
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Kasha shrugged, turned around, and walked briskly down the street. I followed her without hesitation. The path turned from cobblestone to concrete, and we were in downtown New York.
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“So where are heading?” I wondered.
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“You’ll see.”
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As we walked, the buildings that lined the street loomed menacingly over us. Kasha tried to keep to the shadows, and I did as well, not that it was hard. It was nighttime, after all. My eyes flitted around, searching for danger. The normally busy streets now seemed eerily empty, save the occasional late-night walker. Peering into a shop window, I saw the blank faces of mannequins. They wore delicate evening gowns. In a corner, their broken twins were piled in the corner like the stacks of bodies after a war. I shivered. I could already see them in my nightmares.
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We eventually came to a place about a block from where we started out. It was an abandoned parking lot, complete with tall weeds and cracks. A bright red car sat right in the middle. It was beautiful. I darted a look over my shoulder, but my view was miraculously and, most likely, strategically blocked by trees.
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“Is this our ride?” I asked.
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“Yeah,” said Kasha. She strode over to the car and waved me over. “Get in.”
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I stepped towards it hesitantly, doubt filling my head, until she reached over, grabbed my arm, and shoved me into the passenger door. My nose and forehead made unpleasant contact with the window, and I groaned pitifully.
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“Don’t be such a baby,” she snapped. “Just open the door and sit down.”
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I reluctantly pulled on the handle, letting the door fall open. To my surprise, the inside was not shabby at all. The seats looked new, and screens were built into the back of the headrests. Everything looked clean, too.
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“Where did you get this?” I marveled.
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Kasha raised her eyebrows. “Sure you want to know?”
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“Well, why not?”
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“I’ll tell you when you’re in the car.”
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Right. I sat on the sleek leather that made up the seat covering, still amazed by the features of the car. A moment later, I was startled into looking up by the sound of the driver door slamming, and then Kasha was settled in next to me. She started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot. I expected to feel violent bumps and ridges. Surprisingly, the road felt smooth.
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“Nice suspension,” I said.
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She “hmmm”ed in return and drove, her eyes glued to the road. Soon, we made it into New Jersey.
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“I got it from a junkyard,” said Kasha.
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“What?” My eyes flew open. I blinked a few times, unaware that I had drifted off. To be fair, I was extremely tired.
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“This car,” she said. “I got it from a junkyard. I took it after a guy crashed it into some trees, and I fixed it up a little.”
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“You’re a mechanic?” I asked, surprised.
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“Used to be, back in another life. I don’t know why, but everything just falls out of place now.”
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“Oh. Wait, how did you get the junkyard to give you the car?”
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She smiled, then glanced sideways at me briefly. “Who says they gave it to me?”
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Ah. Okay. So she officially was a thief, although she didn’t rob a bank.
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“Same difference,” I muttered to myself. Kasha looked at me strangely for a second, then continued to drive.
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Before long, it was midnight, and we were tired. Well, at least I was tired and Kasha was still doggedly driving.
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“Okay,” I said, yawning, “let’s go find somewhere to stay. You have to be tired.”
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She seemed to think for a second before she said, “Fine.” She then threw the wheel sideways, swerving into an exit. My entire body crashed sideways, then settled as the car landed back on all four wheels. I could already feel throbbing in my arm. And my leg. And everywhere else in my body.
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“What was that for?” I yelped, clutching my elbow. Kasha had gone back to being a robot, seemingly unaffected by her sudden action. She didn’t answer.
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“Okay, then,” I said. I sat back. Suddenly, Kasha cursed and she repeated her kamikaze move, but this time she petered to a stop on the side of the road. I almost yelled at her, but stopped when I saw her wide-eyed expression.
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I could now see why. Red and blue lights flashed behind us, illuminating the dark sky. I didn’t hear the siren before, but it rang in my ears as the police car parked neatly behind us.
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In the rearview mirror, I saw a person come out of the car. He or she headed toward us, slowly, just as Kasha rolled down the window.
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The officer paused at the window. A crooked name tag read Officer Mitchell. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and looked strangely familiar. From what I could tell, she was in her 30s or early 40s.
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“That was an extremely risky move. I trust that you know this already?” She said in a stern voice. She bent down and peered into the window. “Could I see your driver’s license, please?”
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“Sure! Just, uh, give me one second, and I’ll have it right for you!” Kasha took on an obnoxiously cheery tone. She was obviously trying to seem as friendly as possible. It wasn’t working. Officer Mitchell just stood with her arms crossed, starting to look impatient. Kasha shuffled around in her jean pockets, flipping them inside out, and then she shrugged delicately, looking up at the officer with innocent eyes. “Sorry, I left it at home. But I could tell you my information…?”
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“No. You have to provide a valid form of identification—”
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“Please? We almost missed the exit, and we didn’t hurt anyone.”
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Mitchell sighed. “Not having your I.D. is illegal, or did you miss that in driving school? And I’ll have to give you a misdemeanor charge if you don’t provide one.”
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Despite Kasha’s (temporarily) bubbly exterior, I could see a bit of panic rising in her. She knew it was gonna be a while before the cop or we moved on. I racked my brain, thinking and trying to come up with diversions.
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“Uh, I can vouch for her,” I piped up timidly. I figured stalling was the best way to get the time to think up a solution. Kasha looked at me, then back at the the officer, who just looked completely exasperated.
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“That’s not—Look, Are you guys drunk or something? Step out of the car, please.”
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“All right!” Kasha chirped. She opened the door and hopped out. When I moved to open my door, however, I found my muscles locked in place. And as if a switch was turned on, I suddenly had a flash of realization. All at once, memories raged through my head. They left me with the reason why Officer Mitchell looked familiar, and I couldn’t be any more happy, or stunned.
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I scrambled out of the car with a flurry of motion and stared at the policewoman standing in front of me. She looked so, so different from when she was 18. She was older, more mature, yet I could still see some of that innocence she used to have. The innocence that I once loved. And her eyes. They were focused, the look of a trained policewoman. She still had the same cornflower-blue irises, but now they held a new intensity that I didn’t remember from before.
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I opened my mouth to speak. “Kaylee?”
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