Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre Page B

unexpected chill seeped into my bones despite my hat and scarf.
    â€œWhere shall I deliver you?”
    â€œTo the corner store near my house.”
    He asked no questions, only beckoned for me to follow. I had the incredible impression that I’d wounded him somehow by being agitated by his arrival. No, that’s crazy. Hard-pressed to keep up, the Harbinger rounded a corner ahead of me. I stepped over a slick patch on the cracked sidewalk, and he grabbed my wrist. The world whooshed away, and we reappeared in an alley near the Baltimore.
    â€œClose enough?”
    I nodded. “Thanks. And look, I’m—”
    â€œYou have your business to tend and I’ve mine.” With that, he was gone.
    Sighing, I made my way to the store, pausing to wipe my feet so the bell jingled nonstop. José glanced up with a crisp snap of his newspaper. “Ah, you’re back?”
    I nodded. “If the offer’s still open, I’m here to work.”

 
    A PENCHANT FOR INNOCENT EYES
    I worked at the bodega twice more, enough to keep me in noodles, bread, and yogurt for the week. José and Luisa were nice people, and by Wednesday, she was sending me home with a plastic container of tamales. I devoured them for dinner that night, and they were pretty much the most delicious thing I’d tasted since I made the leap. For some reason, sweets didn’t have the same savor these days.
    On Thursday, I talked Kian into sitting with Devon and his group, overriding his protests that it would be awkward. For the first ten minutes, it was, and Devon glared at me over trays of macaroni and processed cheese. Kian stared hard at his food and didn’t talk to anyone, so I considered conversational first aid and hoped someone at the table liked classic movies.
    â€œSo who’s seen Casablanca ?” I asked, during the next lull.
    Five out of six shrugged and shook their heads, but Vonna said, “It’s pretty fantastic.”
    Score.
    Devon mentioned her the other day. She was short and a little chubby with brown skin and hair in braids. I could’ve hugged her, but that would have been weird. I made sure to mention we’d watched it last weekend at the Marquee, then added my two cents in evaluation, hoping to lure Kian into the discussion. That spurred some interest from the rest of the group, and soon Kian was fielding questions about the place. At first, he spoke so softly that people had lean in to hear, but I could tell the minute he realized they were honestly curious.
    â€œHave you always liked classics?” Vonna asked eventually.
    â€œPretty much as long as I can remember. And, yeah, I know it’s gross nostalgia and that history isn’t the way those movies make it seem—”
    â€œSome things you have to appreciate apart from the ugliness,” she said, eyes glinting. “I mean, Hollywood is still a hot mess for people of color, and back then…”
    â€œExactly.” Kian was nodding, and they went into a deeper discussion of progress that still needed to be made in the movie industry.
    The rest of the table seemed pretty shocked, but I couldn’t stop grinning. Yeah, he’s smart. He’s articulate. He’s got ideas worth hearing.
    Fifteen minutes later, Vonna was saying, “I’d like to direct someday, but damn, I might as well decide to be an astronaut with the glass ceiling so firmly in place.”
    When the bell rang, everyone seemed startled, including Kian. His gaze met mine, and I could just about hear him saying, Holy shit, that went a lot better than I expected. As I passed him, heading for the hallway, I bumped my shoulder against his.
    â€œHold up,” Vonna called. “What’s your number? I can’t geek out with just anyone about old movies.”
    Eyes wide, Kian stopped, and I whispered, “Give it to her.”
    Devon caught up with me as the others filed out of the cafeteria. “Hey, Nine, wait. I