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“I’m going to be late!” Kyane screamed from atop her bike. She peddled down the street to the closest pawn shop she could think of. She checked the time on one of the futuristic blue-faced watches. It was 8:15. She had everything planned out perfectly. However, just before she was going to open the window her mother came in and apologized for how her father had been acting. She gave Kyane a hug, then left. It was a very warm hug, but her mind was made up. Yet, being behind schedule made her miss the final bus. She then had to bike into the city.
Biking into the city was nothing new for Kyane. She had done it many times. There were many available paths because it is such a popular, and healthy activity for the people who lived in the suburbs to do. It just was not a very fast mode of transportation. She could have called a taxi but charging the expense to her emergency credit card would have alerted her parents to the fact she snuck out, and she would be in enough trouble already by selling whatever piece of hardware she had on.
Kyane squeezed the break bars on her bike. She skidded to a halt in front of the small pawnshop. She got off the bike and walked it to the nearby alleyway. Her eyes tract the neon sign telling everyone it was a pawn shop, but with metal bars on the windows and doors to show that they knew what part of down they did business in. Kyane kicked the break-stand up and laid the bike against the brick wall. She dabbed the sweat off her head and walked up to the door.
Kyane felt a buzz in her pocket. She took out her phone. She got a message from Desmond asking if she was on her way. Kyane locked her phone, placed it back in her pocket, reached for the door handle to the pawnshop, grabbed it, turned the knob, and then heard the click and felt no give to open the door. “What the hell!” She tried the door again, and again, and again. It wouldn’t budge. She banged on the metal bars. She banged on them again, and again. A dog began to bark. She looked up and saw a light turn on in the apartment above.
Kyane waited for a few moments. The door behind the bars flung open. A large man with a beer gut, and shotgun stood at the door. He was in a cut-off shirt, and plaid pajama bottoms. “What don’t you understand about closed? Closed means closed! Like not open! Leave!”
“Jesus,” Kyane said. “I didn’t think a pawn shop would be closed.” She checked the watch again. She got it in the light of the neon to show it off to the clerk. “I mean its 8. Isn’t it almost prime junkie’s selling stuff they stole to buy drugs hour? That’s like prime business.”
“What did you just say to me?” the clerk asked. He finally actually examined the girl over. “Hey, ain’t it passed your bedtime little girl?”
“Not little,” Kyane said.
“Don’t matter. You don’t look 18 enough to try and sell to me.” He looked at the watches on her wrists. “Where’d you steal those from anywho?”
Kyane hid her hands in her pockets. “Nunya,” she said.
“Ah huh, sure.” The clerk gave her a side-eye. “Get your ass outta here and into bed, or I’m calling the cops.” The clerk slammed the door and locked it.
“Dammit!” Kyane said. She kicked the metal bars. She slumped away from the door and back to her bike. She leaned in front of her bike. She took out her phone and messaged that she would be there soon, but something unexpected came up. Not technically a lie she said to herself. She turned and placed her forehead and hand on the brickwork, then sighed.
There was a clicking noise, then a strange smell wafted under her nose. A stench of iron? No. Not just iron. A rank of slime, and sewer water mixed with the iron. If she had nose hairs, they would have shriveled up and died like a cartoon. Kyane looked down the alley. She saw a dark figure with amber yellow eyes staring at her.
“Thank you for making such noise,” the amber-eyed figure said.