Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“C’mon, let’s go,” he says with a wink, and I tag along behind him.
We go to Ashanti’s school on his bike. I hitch a ride on the back while he drives. I wouldn’t know how to steer one of these anyway, not that he has a spare. Everybody rides these things here, and to be fair, it’s kinda fun too. With the wind flowing through my hair, I’m as free as a bird, and I let go of him for a moment to raise my hands in the sky.
“What are you doing?” he says, laughing as he glances over his shoulder.
“Enjoying the weather,” I say, but it’s so much more than that.
It’s these tall houses all crammed next to each other on either side of a narrow street, separated by a myriad of channels filled with water and cute trees along the way. Shops are selling all kinds of things, and tourists everywhere among the people who live here. It’s a cute town in a bustling city size, and honestly, I’m falling more and more in love with it.
We drive toward the school where all the families, mostly moms, wait to pick up their kids. Ashanti comes running out by the time we’ve stopped biking, and she immediately hugs her dad.
“Kijk!” she squeals, holding up a paper crown. “Heb ik gemaakt.”
“Wat mooi!” Deion tells her.
From what I can understand, she says she made it in class, and Deion says it looks good. My Dutch is coming along nicely now that I’m being semi-tutored by a little girl … and Deion, of course.
“Ga je fiets maar halen,” Deion tells her. With a proud smirk on her face, she runs off and comes back with her bike. “Kun je me thuis alles verder vertellen.”
She’s so happy he wants to know more about her day at school. He’s a great dad.
On the way back, we drop by a bakery to pick up some bread, then stop at a groenteboer, which is basically a tiny pop-up shop filled with veggies and fruits.
“If you want something, just grab it,” Deion says to me. “I’ll pay, don’t worry.”
I hesitate as I grab a plastic bag and look around.
“Go on. It’s fine,” he says, encouraging me.
I pick up some dates and a big grapefruit, as well as a juicy watermelon. Can’t forget the cranberries either. My plastic bag is filled to the brim when I bring it to the cashier and place it down on the counter. As Deion pays, I look around the shop to see what else they have.
That’s when I notice the man in a suit sitting in a car across the street … and he’s looking straight at me. Something flashes, and a bright light blocks the view from the car.
A sudden hand on my shoulder makes me jump.
“What’s up?” Deion asks, holding a bag filled with groceries.
“Uh …” I glance out the window, and the car is gone. Vanished as if it was never there in the first place. But I know what I saw was real.
“Are you okay?” Deion asks, lowering his head.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, clearing my throat and adding a smile. “Let’s go home.”
He pushes a bag of groceries into my hand. “You can carry these while I do the biking.”
The way home is one long blur. I don’t remember which route he took or how long it takes. All I can think about is that man staring at me from the other side of the street. That flash … Did he take a picture of me with his phone?
A shiver rolls up my spine.
What if it was my father’s henchman, someone to spot me and follow me?
Did I give my position away?
By the time we’re home, I’m sick to my stomach. I help Deion put away the groceries, but when they grab a packet of chocolate chip cookies from the cabinet, I leave the kitchen.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like chocolate?” Ashanti asks me.
“Ahh … I’m feeling a little bit sick, that’s all. I think I’m gonna go lie down for a while.”
Deion looks concerned but doesn’t question me. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I go upstairs and up into the attic.
I lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling while hugging a pillow. If what I saw was real—if someone’s following me—then going outside was the dumbest thing I could ever do. Because now they know where I live. And that I’m not alone.
Several more days pass, but nothing happens, and nothing’s changed. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe that man took a picture of the shops instead of me. There are many tourists, after all, and the shops in this city are a sight to behold.
Even though I’m still wary, I never stopped going outside.
How could I when I already tasted the freedom? I tried to stay inside, but my desire to live my life outweighed the fear of being caught. If they were following me, why would they wait so long to capture me anyway? It doesn’t make any sense, so I’d rather not linger on it too long, or else I’ll lose my mind. I just wanna be left alone so I can live.