Where I am unknown, she will attend.
Where I am alone, she will be.
Where I am weak, she will sustain,
Even unto death,
That the darkness might be locked away
And all things remain in the light of the everlasting sun.
My heart is firm.
My soul is triumphant.
My service is eternal.
I’d reached the exhibit doors, but the moment he finished, I was blasted backward onto the tile floor.
I had no idea what was happening. All I felt was pain. My heart beat erratically, and my stomach quivered with nausea when my lungs couldn’t take in air.
Did he shoot me? As I tried to fill my lungs, I felt around on my back. There was no blood. No bullet hole. Carefully, I stood up. I needed to get out. Now.
Reaching the side exit, I checked my watch. Eleven-thirty-five, just a few minutes late for my date. If I missed out on the pretty much mandatory lunch, I’d never hear the end of it from my dad. He wanted me to make friends with the daughters of some very important people he wanted to “work with,” meaning rub elbows with, in the future.
Darting through the foot traffic, I entered one of my favorite restaurants and was ushered to a table next to the large bay windows that looked out over the street. Sinking into the chair, I blew out a breath as three pairs of critical eyes stared me down. My classmates. Their perfectly plumped glossy lips made little O shapes as they set down their menus to study me.
“What happened to you?” Redhead asked.
“You look like something the cat dragged in,” said Blonde.
“Dragged in, scratched, coughed up in a hairball, and tinkled on, maybe,” added Blonder.
The girls laughed. “No, even better,” Blonde said. “You look like a windblown tourist left too long on an open-top bus. Aw…did you lose your map?” she added in a syrupy-sweet voice.
I smiled my best nice-to-see-you-but-I-really-want-to-kill-you smile at my three “friends,” but they were nowhere near finished.
“I mean, seriously, who did your hair this morning? Albert Einstein?”
“Yeah, and your clothes.” Blonder twitched her nose. “I’ve seen fewer wrinkles on a shar-pei.”
Redhead leaned over and picked at my shirt. “Is that sawdust?”
Grimacing, I replied, “Yes.”
“I knew it!” Blonde gasped facetiously. “Lilliana is having a secret affair with a rodeo clown.” All three girls burst out laughing.
“Well, that explains the hair,” said Redhead.
“Okay, back off. I’ve had a rough morning, all right?” Picking up the menu, I tried to covertly smooth my hair and brush some of the sawdust from my clothes. “I was involved in a hit-and-run at the museum,” I mumbled from behind the menu.
“You mean outside the museum?” Redhead asked with a hint of actual concern.
My lips twitched sheepishly. “No, I mean inside the museum.”
Blonder gasped for real this time and then lowered her voice. “Were you…mugged?”
In an instant, all three girls became very serious at the mention of the deep-seated fear they shared, which was to be the victim of a purse snatching. The belief that everyone else in the world had designs on their money and, for most of them, their person, was almost a required understanding at my elite private school.
“You poor thing,” Blonde clucked as Redhead rubbed my back for a minute, then quickly dusted off her fingers on her napkin. “You just relax. We’ll take care of you.”