Page 38 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“After we do distance practicing,” she warns, his words catching up with her. “You’re not going away until after that.”

His face pinched, he nods.

The restof the meal is a somber affair, and Ambra’s about to jump out of her skin by the time he drags her into a small electronics store.

This time, however, he brings her up to the counter with him.

It’s darker in there, somehow more grimy, and the human leaning against the counter is only wearing a beat up polo shirt and jeans, and looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days.

His eyes glance off Gurlien, focusing on Ambra instead. “And how can I help you?”

He doesn’t sound like he wants to help her, and Ambra bristles.

“We want to buy a pay as you go phone with three months unlimited data, two SIM cards, and we’re paying cash,” Gurlien says, quick, and the man’s brows flash up at the request. “And a case, something drop proof.”

The man swings his gaze over to Gurlien, still wearing the perfectly crisp button up and pressed pants and a backpack, then back to Ambra, who’s still not sure if her hair is brushed and is wearing the tinted glasses indoors.

So she grins at him, baring her teeth.

“Cash price is extra,” the man says, and Gurlien scoffs. “Keeping the number unlisted is even more.”

“Yes, unlisted,” Gurlien says, disgruntled. “And noise canceling headphones.”

The man mouths ‘what the fuck’ before disappearing into the back, and Ambra leans against the counter to hide her legs shaking.

“I could just go back there and get it,” she offers, knowing well enough to keep her voice hushed.

“And then it wouldn’t work, so don’t,” Gurlien whispers back, straightening the cuffs on the light blue shirt. “Trust me on the little things.”

The glance he gives her is significant, though her eyes are drawn to the idle motions of his hands on the sleeves, and she lets her eyes rest there until the grimy man comes back from the back, carrying a variety of small boxes.

The man says nothing as he opens the boxes, plugging a sleek phone into his computer, and Gurlien scowls at him as he does so, until he slides it across the counter to Gurlien. “Two thousand dollars.”

“Excuse me?” Gurlien asks, and Ambra bares her teeth at the man, who has the grace to step back at her expression.

“That’s the cost for an unlisted number and the phone.”

“This is a few years old,” Gurlien protests, as if that matters. “For that cost…” He falls silent, crossing his arms and drawing Ambra’s attention to that motion. “Do you have musician’s ear-pro? Throw some of that in.”

The man disappears into the back again, then comes back with a small plastic container and drops it on the pile of boxes.

“Anything else?” the man asks.

Gurlien counts out the cash from the backpack, and gets an almost disgruntled scoff from the man.

“You could afford it,” the man says.

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Gurlien replies primly, and his clothing is the nicest thing in the entire store, but he adds the boxes to the bag and nods, almost formal, at Ambra. “You want to go home?”

Home is complicated, but she nods, following him back out through the mall, past the loud people and the jangling music that sets her teeth on edge. It’s not fair, how easily he moves through the crowd, how everyone’s eyes slip away from him and onto Ambra. How the attention slides onto her, until her skin crawls, and almost nobody pays attention to the man she’s trailing behind.

“You’ve got to tell me how you do that,” Ambra bursts out, the moment they’re outside into the dry warmth that reeks of pavement.

“Do what?” he asks, nodding her to follow back behind the building, towards the uncrowded spot she teleported them into.

She rolls her eyes instead of answering him, and as soon as they’re out of any sight lines she grabs his wrist, teleporting back to the motorhome.

Or, rather, where it should be.

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