Chasing Shadows Read Free

her that only the "XTC lubricated and ribbed for her pleasure" would do.  The ones in the neon pink box with the not-quite-pornographic photo of a surgically enhanced moaning beauty plastered on the front.
    KC sidled down the drugstore aisle, avoiding Old Man Sinderson's eagle-eyed gaze.  An outrage, that's what it was.  She could pull a wallet from a man's inside jacket pocket by the time she was twelve, being forced to resort to lifting a measly box of condoms was nothing less than an insult to her skills.
    Even worse, the best thing for her cover would be to get caught and have to run for it.  Salt to injury.  No wait, the really worse thing was that the damn condoms would never even be used.
    Price she paid.  She'd lost the bet—not fair or square, though.  She'd tossed in her full house despite the fact that she knew she had the winning hand, let Neil rake in the pot and set the terms of her redemption.  One box of condoms filched from Old Man Sinderson.
    She reached out her hand, ready to make the grab, then pulled it back as she heard Neil's laughter coming from the next aisle over.  Glancing up, she saw him and the Harris twins elbowing each other as they watched her in the overhead security mirror.  KC shot them a glare and Neil laughed harder, his face blossoming scarlet, while one of the twins gave her the finger in a good-natured salute.
    Boys, not men.  They were nineteen going on nine.  Old enough to vote, old enough to die for their country, yet they spent their days playing poker and coming up with assinine bets.  They should have been "working"—which translated to sitting on their butts doing nothing all day—but Neil's dad, Mr. Gianotti, had given them the day off.  Christmas bonus, he'd called it.  
    Yeah, right.  She'd give a kidney to know what Gianotti really had planned for his Christmas.
    Losing this bet to Neil might be a step on the way.  
    "Hey, what're you boys doing down there?" Old man Sinderson's cigarette-rasped growl chased after Neil and the twins.  KC used the distraction to deftly slide the condoms into her jacket pocket before meandering down the aisle to the shampoo display.
    Now came the hard part.  Getting almost caught without appearing too obvious.
    That had been the hardest part of this entire gig.  It was easy to put on the clothes, dig the music—especially since she actually did like her rock with a head-banging edge to it—drive the car, talk the talk, and walk the walk of a eighteen year old bad girl, condemned to waste her time as a senior in high school.  
    No, the hard part was in not being too obvious, not showing that she knew too much, not getting too involved in the lives of the kids around her—including Jay Weston, the kid she was here to save.
    High school had been hard enough the first time around.  The second time was hell.
    The guys left the store, Old Man Sinderson giving them his patented heebie-jeebie glare from his position behind the counter.  Bells jangled as the door shut again, blocking out the winter chill.
    "And you, missy," Old Man Sinderson bellowed in her direction.  "What are you buying?"
    KC played it cool, shrugging her shoulders so the chains on her leather jacket clanked as she picked up a bottle of shampoo, scrutinized it as if it were the Rosetta Stone, then replaced on the wrong shelf.  She shot Sinderson an over the shoulder glance as she did so, smirking at him.
    "Here, now.  If all you're going to do is rearrange my inventory and make more work for me—" he thundered, his body shaking but never leaving his seat.  
    "More work for you?" she asked, misplacing several more bottles at lightning speed.  "You haven't gotten off that stool of yours in a decade, old man."
    His face puffed up and turned red as a baboon's butt.  She thought about telling him, making the comparison, but there was no need, he'd already hit his boiling point.
    "Out!  Now!"  He was bouncing so hard on the stool, his finger jabbing into