Becoming Sarah Read Free

what to do.
    The iPhone rang as I snatched Sarah’s wallet and keys from the counter, but I ignored it on my way out the door. Her keychain said Lexus and was one of those buttons you pushed to unlock a car door. I wasn’t up to figuring out where she'd parked it, though, and besides, I felt less than confident in my driving abilities. While I’d passed driver’s ed last year, I’d never gotten around to scheduling a test at the DMV. I couldn’t see the point of getting a license with no car in my near future. My mother had once owned a beat-up Nissan, but it had finally broken down beyond repair, and now we both got around on Muni buses .
    Sarah’s front door led to a hallway and a narrow set of stairs that took me down three floors. Outside I discovered that she lived in the top flat in a Victorian house, its front painted pale yellow with purple trim. A far cry from the cramped, shabby box I shared with my mother. A whole different world.
    Maria would be in school now, but she’d be home in an hour. I needed to figure out exactly where I was and which bus to catch. Two blocks from Sarah’s building I found a corner store, bought a Muni map, and spread it out on the counter.
    “Where you trying to get to?” asked the clerk, as he leaned over the counter toward me. “Maybe I can give you a ride, gorgeous.”
    I looked up sharply, thinking he was making fun of me. He stared back at me, a young, good-looking guy with a goatee and a look in his eye I’d never seen before – not aimed in my direction, anyway. He wasn’t making fun; he was hitting on me.
    “Here,” I said, pointing to an intersection just off Third Street, in the southeast part of the city.
    He laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t. Too dangerous for a girl like you. How about some coffee instead? I’m off in an hour.”
    “No, thanks.” I’d seen what I needed to see. I folded up my map and left the store, headed for the nearest bus stop.
    I was near Haight Street, in a neighborhood miles north west of where I’d lived all my life. Maria and I used to come shopping here sometimes. We’d check out the cool clothes in all the vintage clothes stores, gawk through the windows of the tattoo parlors and head shops, and laugh at the tourists expecting to find the ‘60s all over again, instead of a huge Gap store and overpriced restaurants selling crepes and fancy sandwiches.
    I waited ten min utes for the bus, paid my fare , and sat fidgeting as it crawled up and down the hills and inched its way toward Maria’s. I couldn’t wait to see her. We were best friends since elementary school, so close we finished each other’s sentences. I figured it would take some work to convince her, but not too much. Deep down I was sure she’d recognize some glint in my eye, some tiny habit of mine, before I even said a word.
    The Rodriguez family lived above a Chinese restaurant. As I climbed the back stairs to their door, I actually found the stale smell of grease comforting. This was home. This was where I belonged, despite the stares of the men on the street corners, and the bus driver’s “You sure, lady?” when I pulled the cord to make him stop.
    It was after 3 o’clock, plenty of time for Maria to get back from school. I rang the bell and waited impatiently, hoping my friend would come to the door and not her mother or one of her three brothers.
    When she opened the door, I was so elated that I barely noticed her red-rimmed eyes, or her suspicious expression. It was good to see her face, so familiar, and her dark, permed hair scraped back in a ponytail. She wore big silver hoops in her ears and wire-rimmed glasses as round as her rosy-cheeked face. “Maria, I have to talk to you,” I blurted. “You’ll never believe in a million years believe --”
    "Who the hell are you?” she snarled.
    “I’m –-“ I hesitated, then plunged ahead “It’s me, Jamie. You’ve got to help me.”

CHAPTER THREE
    She stared at me in disgust. “What are you,