The lady doesn’t recognize me, but she must realize something’s up. There’s sweat streaming down my forehead.
“Will there be anything else?” she says.
I nod and grab a newspaper. I hand her my money. She gives me the bag and $2.43 change.
I say thank you and walk slowly out the door. I don’t want her to remember the redheaded girl who bolted from the store.
I run as soon as I’m out of sight and don’t stop until the park. Elliot’s still asleep. I sit down and open the newspaper.
There’s Mom—“the estranged wife of disgraced stockbroker, Steven Patterson”—pleading for our return. There’s a quote from the guy I left the LeSabre with. There’s a cop saying we’re “believed to have boarded a bus to Cypress.”
No mention of the man at the Lost and Found who gave us the clothes. Did he just not want to rat us out? Or was he worried about getting in trouble for giving us stuff that wasn’t ours?
Who knows?
At least no one will be looking for a kid in a Superman suit yet. I’ve got to look on the bright side.
In the picture, I’m wearing my contacts. People probably won’t recognize me in my glasses. My hair is longer now, but it’s still red.
I’ll cover it with my hood.
I turn the page.
Steve Patterson, former darling of the stock market, is suspected of defrauding his clients of hundreds of millions of dollars. With his company now worthless, it’s highly unlikely any of his victims will ever be compensated. “Suicide is too good for that man,” says Dave MacPherson, who admits that he will soon have to file for bankruptcy as a result of having invested all his savings with Patterson. “He wasn’t just my financial advisor. He was my friend. And he ruined us.”
I shove the newspaper into the garbage can where it belongs—then I slip under the branches to wake Elliot up.