The Sovereign Era (Book 2): Pilgrimage by Matthew Wayne Selznick Page A

and, Byron noticed, across the belly beneath her gray half T-shirt. Her freckled face was topped by a shock of spiky red hair. If her wardrobe made her cold, she did a good job of hiding it.
    Her smile was mostly mocking. She brushed lightly at her chin. “You got a little bit, right there.”
    Byron automatically scraped at his chin, mortified that he might have puke caked on his face.
    There was nothing.
    She laughed. “Sorry, dude. Couldn’t resist.” She pushed off of the rail, briskly descended the stairs, and strutted toward the residence center while Byron watched.
    “C’mon, Byron,” Mazmanian prompted. “Let’s get you wired up and cleaned up. You’ll be properly introduced before long, I’m sure.”
    Byron scowled and painfully ascended the remaining stairs. “Can’t wait,” he growled.

From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Nine
    Every Monday, I had to get my weekly independent study assignments from school, which meant getting a ride from my mother, who always took that day off or worked from home. I didn’t have much time for myself.
    I’d been following the advice of Lina’s dad and hadn’t called her. She didn’t call me, either.
    Tuesday, my mother left for her office and I had the house, and more importantly, the telephone, to myself. I went for the White Pages as soon as my mother’s car was out of sight.
    There were four listings with the last name of Finn. Finn, Vincent; Finn, F.; Finn, Albert; Finn, Michael.
    No one answered at the first number, even though I let it ring ten times. The second number clicked over to an answering machine on the third ring.
    “Hey, there, hi! The Finns aren’t in! Get it? Ha, ha…well, you know what to do. At the beep, leave a message for Frank, Ricki, Bill, or Dawn!”
    Beep.
    No Eric.
    I called the third number. On the fifth ring, a kid’s voice said, “What? I mean, Finn’s residence.”
    I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers.
    “Is Eric there?”
    “Who wants to know?”
    “A…a friend of his. From school.”
    “Eric don’t go to school, dummy.”
    I raised my fist and mouthed a silent, “yes!”
    All excited, I found myself taking on the kid’s attitude. “Duh,” I said. “We used to go to school. Together.”
    “What,” the kid giggled, “like a couple of fags?”
    “Ha, ha. Good one. So is Eric there, or not?”
    “He’s at work, of course.”
    “Oh, yeah, right. Hey, where does he work again?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “It’s…been a while. Hey, why aren’t you in school?”
    “The car place,” the kid said. “What’s it called…oh yeah.” The kid made like he thought he sounded like a radio announcer. “Sunrise Import Shop!” His voice went back to its high, piping normal. “I’m home sick!”
    Sunrise Import Shop.
    I hung up on the kid, grabbed the Yellow Pages, flipped to the right page, and there it was. Even had a quarter-page ad.
    I wanted to go right then, but it was all the way across town. I’d need to fuel up before I got on my bike.
    As I put second breakfast together, I started playing fantasies of my meeting with Lina’s would-be rapist through my head. None of them ended well for Eric Finn. Some of them involved tears, and not mine.
     
    It wasn’t a short bike ride to Sunrise Import Shop. The place was in an industrial park on the far side of El Toro, which meant going all the way down by the freeway.
    At least the weather was decent. A little chilly, but that gave me an excuse to wear my hooded sweatshirt. I could be incognito until the right moment.
    I wasn’t sure when that right moment would be, or how it would unfold, but I had ideas that there would be some public humiliation.
    It was around one in the afternoon when I coasted into the parking lot. Sunrise Import Shop was what looked like one of those places that customizes cars, puts spoilers and headers and superchargers or whatever on them. It sat kind of in the middle of a row with a wrought iron fence place, a transmission