THE GIRL IN THE GRAY SWEATSHIRT

Shes alone today.

But then, shes always alone.

My least favorite part of the job is investigation and reconnaissance. And thats saying a lot because theres so much to hate. Since losing my free will, I count the days. Minutes. Hours. Seconds. I know precisely how long Ive been serving them. Theres no way to be sure how long itll last, though. How long Ill live.

If I was braver, Id refuse an order and force Wedderburn to execute me. That might be an end to everything. Ironic whenat one timeI only wanted that. Now that Ive lost all control, life has become precious. If I die, I wont see her again.

Im not supposed to consider a catalysts thoughts and feelings, except to gauge how close they are to extremis. Like a good impartial observer, I watch and wait. Its taken on a new dimension with her, however. I recognize the pain of her hunched shoulders; Ive been where she is. I tell myself its just a job, but I want to cross the street and have her look at me.

Shes heavy, but its not just physical weight. When she moves, she trudges, shoulders slumped, head down.

From this angle, I cant see her face, veiled by a curtain of brown hair. Even if she lifted her chin, shed still be hiding behind thick glasses. Ive never seen her smile. Its become an impossible dream to me, imagining situations where I could make her laugh.

Wedderburn would kill me; Im not allowed to reveal myself until its time to offer a deal.

But I want to.

Her steps are aimless; she doesnt seem to have a destination in mind. Its a crisp fall day and shes wearing a gray hoodie that would fit a person twice her size. The sleeves slip down over her hands. They look small. If we measured, I could wrap my fingers half again on top of hers. Her pants are just as baggy, like she wants to disappear inside her clothes. I remember that feeling so well, wishing invisibility was real and that nobody would ever look at me again.

I have on a light jacket, a cap pulled down, and sunglasses. Days like this, I feel like a celebrity hiding from the paparazzi, but really, I just have to make sure one girl doesnt notice me. Its not tough, as she barely glances up when she crosses the street. Im tense, watching her. Wedderburn wouldnt want me to let

her die, especially due to her own negligence. He has plans for her.

Somehow she reaches the sidewalk where Im standing without getting run over. This feels like a miracle, considering her distraction. Did I miss something? What happened? According to my best estimate, she wont hit extremis for months. Which makes this assignment even shittier; I have to watch her get sadder and sadder, until she feels theres only one way out. With every fiber of my being, I want to step in. To tell her shes not alone.

But Im afraid. Wedderburns hinted that he has ways to make me suffer, even after deathits not the final exit Im betting on. And I cant take the chance hes telling the truth.

She passes me without a second look. No surprise, the decent weather means theres a fair amount of people walking, clustered on corners and waiting for signals. I wait until shes two hundred feet in front, then I stroll after her. To the casual observer, it seems that shes window shopping. She pauses now and then, but I can tell that shes not looking at anything on display. Instead shes tear-blind, surreptitiously wiping her cheeks with bare fingertips. Either she doesnt have

any tissues or she feels like digging them out would be an admission of weakness.

Why are you crying? Would you tell me if I could tap you on the shoulder like a normal guy and ask, Are you okay? Probably not. From what Ive gleaned about her character, shed get embarrassed and run.

Then an idea occurs to me. Wedderburn will punish me if he finds out because this will certainly impact her mood, which in turn influences extremis. And hes so eager to recruit her. Yeah, hell have my ass if he catches me.

I dont even care.

Quickening my step, I hurry past. A woman is standing in a shop doorway, handing out cinnamon roll samples. She brightens when she sees me, but that reaction has lost its shine. If Id known the pitfalls beforehand, I wouldnt have wished to be handsome. But when you hit extremis young, theres just so much you dont know and could never imagine. Now Im 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. Shed 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, Ill take care of it.

I find a caf two doors down and wait with an anticipation I havent felt in a while. My targetand the girl Ive come to likeis approaching the bakery. Its ridiculous that I care when Ive only watched from a distance. In her eyes, Id be a stalker. Or worse. It doesnt matter that I wouldnt 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 shes at the door to the pastry shop. Though I cant hear whats 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, shell smile before the end of the day; I know she will.

Now I have a goal, and its better than the usual surveillance.

Head down, I pretend to peruse the menu when she ambles by, nibbling her treat. But I dont 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 shed like thats on this street. The pastry was just an impulse, so I have to do better next time. Lets see, I know she loves games and comicsthat shes into SFand she reads a lot.

Aha. Theres a used bookstore on the corner. Well, its 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 shell notice me. Im willing to gamble since theres other foot traffic. Anyway, I dont think shed 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 doesnt 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, theres 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 doesnt pause or apologize. Im tempted to follow him and pound the shit out of him, but then Id miss out on her reaction to my next surprise.

Shes alarmed when the clerk stops her. At first she shakes her headno, not interestedand then she apparently realizes shes being offered a prize. She cocks her head, dubious, but the cashier is earnest, probably because I tipped well. No, you dont have to buy anything, no hidden fees. But heres a $20 gift certificate good for anything in our store. They talk a little more before my girl goes inside. Im waiting for half an hour before she comes out again, carrying a small cloth tote bag full 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 and the frame of her glasses. Id love to know what titles she bought and talk about science fiction over coffee, but that cant happen. Even when I finally get to talk to her, shell be confused and scared. Once she understands the kind of person I am, shell probably hate me. So this sunny October day is a microcosm for the two of us. Right now she has no idea that I exist but making her happy makes me happy. Today, I dont feel so alone.

I repeat this at a comic shop, where she picks out a Highlander button, and again when a womans selling handmade jewelry out of the trunk of her car, probably illegally. But my girl wont take anything. Damn, seems like I miscalculated. So after she moves on, I pick a necklace and thank the woman for trying.

Toward sunset, the girl in the gray sweatshirt heads for the park. The sky is burnished over the buildings and the breeze is cool. I sit down near the fountain, where I can see her easily. Shes reading one of the books I bought for her, a pulpy-looking paperback. I cant make out the title. Nearby I spot a hot dog vendor packing it in and circle toward the cart.

Could you do me a favor? I ask.

The guy seems tired, not particularly eager to participate in my scenario. What is it?

Id like to surprise my friend over there. Would you give her a hot dog if I pay for it?

Oh. Sure. He perks up at the prospect of another sale. But what should I tell her if she asks why shes getting free food?

Tell her that youd like to see her smile.

The hot dog guy, whos at least fifty, raises a brow. Heh, I dont think so. That might work for you, pal, but if I try it, shell scream bloody murder.

I chuckle wryly. Okay, maybe not. Tell her whatever you want, just dont mention me.

Deal. What should I put on it?

As I hand over the money, I answer, Mustard, ketchup, relish. In that order, no onions.

Sounds like you know her pretty well. Take care, kid. With that the vendor fixes the hot dog, then walks over to the bench.

She straightens in surprise, but he seems to be working the paternal angle. Here you go, kid. Dinners on the house.

Whatever he says, it works because she takes the snack. Casually I maneuver until I can see her face. And shes beaming. Im riveted, unable to look away. God, you have a nice smile. Her teeth are straight and white, her cheeks soft and round. Her eyes as she

thanks the vendor are a warm brown. Ive seen topaz in just that color. The wind blows her hair back, and she tips her chin up for a few seconds, hot dog in hand. The move says, Right now, Im happy. My chest is so tight I can hardly breathe. Id give a lot if shed look at me, just for a moment. But she takes a few bites, eyes on the ground again. Pigeons waddle at her feet, so it seems like theyre begging. She breaks off a piece of the bun, crumbles and scatters it.

This is the closest Ive ever been to her, so I actually hear her voice, sweet, soft and low, when she tells the birds, Huh. This was the best day ever. Musing, incredulous tone.

For me too, I say silently. Its a vain wish but I cant help adding, Wait for me, Edie Kramer. Wait for me.

k`12

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