A yellowjacket buzzed around her head and she swiped at it while glancing around to make certain that no one had witnessed her transformation. Her palms were sweating and she bit at her lip, her nerves showing, no doubt, because she’d been lying to everyone she knew. Even to her best friend, Allie Kramer, whom she was supposed to meet after school, right before they got onto their buses.
If she made it.
Hurry, hurry, hurry! And don’t get wet feet now. Just do it!
But the paranoia, a feeling that she was being observed from some hidden window or crevice, remained with her.
Dani had resorted to lying to her father on other occasions when she’d thought he was being ridiculously overprotective. Her cell phone had made it so convenient. She was able to call him and tell him she was somewhere she wasn’t, or diffuse any upcoming fight by calling him first and explaining before actually admitting anything face-to-face.
Taking a deep breath, she slung the backpack onto one shoulder just as she heard the sound of voices emanating from the open door of the hardware store. And they were getting louder. Someone was definitely coming. Someone who probably knew her and her dad. Crap! She flew off the loading dock and tried not to think about how disappointed her father would be if he found out what she’d been doing.
Dani hated sneaking around behind his back, but ever since her mother’s death, he’d been more closed-mouthed about her birth parents than ever, always saying, “When you’re older, eighteen, if you still want to know, I’ll help you.”
Eighteen? That was five years from now. She could be dead before then.
No, she couldn’t wait, she thought as she rounded a corner. Since there was no traffic she jaywalked across the street, past a tavern named the Not Whole. How dumb, she thought, eyeing the neon beer signs in the window and the pockmarked door.
Tucking an errant lock of hair under her cap, Dani wiped the sweat from her neck. Well, it wasn’t her fault that he’d gotten all weird and overprotective when Mom had died. Jesus, all of a sudden he’d started acting like she would break or something, all of a sudden he was angry if she brought up questions about her birth, all of a sudden he drank a lot more until, finally, he’d started dating again. And that was another nightmare. Dad getting all dressed up and combing his hair and splashing on skin bracer and cologne for God’s sake.
Yuck! Sick!
Dani shuddered at the thought. She used to be able to talk to him about anything but when it came down to the big question—Who am I really?—her father just plain shut down. His blue eyes darkened, his lips pinched and the cords in the back of his neck appeared to stick out. It was as if he didn’t trust her with that knowledge, afraid she’d up and leave him when she found out the names of her biological parents.
But she couldn’t wait any longer, even though she knew Travis would blow a gasket. He’d find out that she’d missed her last class, but she had her excuse down pat: she was having menstrual cramps and was too embarrassed to tell the teacher. Her father wouldn’t want to discuss that subject any too deeply. She’d beat the school to the punch and tell her dad about missing the class once she got home. He’d warn her never to do it again, the school would call, and he might go so far as to ground her for a couple of days. Probably he’d just lecture her.
But it would be worth it. Finally, she would have some answers.
She rounded a final corner to the cybercafe, checked her watch and found she was right on time. The Wireless Gorge, as it was called, was a little old house that had been converted to a warren of small offices. Sizzling pink neon announced that the place was open for business and other hand-painted signs listed their services: e-mail, fax, copying, printing and the like.
Palms sweating, Dani walked inside where the air was dry and the rooms were stuffy despite several fans busily moving the air around. The guy who ran the place was sitting in front of one of the dozen computer monitors all connected in a tangle of wires, modems and keyboards. He called himself Sarge and she thought he was somewhere in his sixties, though it was hard to tell with anyone over forty. He sat in the tattered secretary’s chair he always seemed to occupy. Though he was obviously going bald, he pulled what remained of his hair into a ponytail and the clamped gray strands clung together and snaked down the back of his camouflage jacket. At the sound of the door opening, he glanced over his shoulder.
“I just want to check my e-mail,” Dani said in a rush.
“Go for it.” He pointed to the sign that showed what the price would be per fifteen-minute segment, then turned back to his computer monitor where, it appeared, he was playing an engrossing game of chess.
Good.
He’d barely given her a passing glance.
Dani wedged her
way around a stack of copy paper and into what had once been the dining area of the little house, which now housed five glowing monitors. She found a computer in the back corner away from the windows and quickly logged on using her new cyberalias.
There was one message from BJC27.
Dani’s heart pounded as she opened the e-mail and wondered why there was no attachment. Bethany Jane had written only three partial sentences:
Sorry. I’m having trouble with my e-mail attachments today. Will send ASAP.
Dani couldn’t believe it. The woman had promised she’d send everything today. Promised!
What a flake! She silently seethed for a second and quickly replied:
Pls send as soon as u can!
Then she logged off. What a waste of five bucks! She left a bill on the counter and hurried outside where the heat hit her like a blast furnace.
She’d gone to all this trouble for—what?