Cloaked

Mona

I knew I couldn't run around and spy wearing heels and my usual clothes – it would give me away immediately, especially if Hanna saw me.

I wanted to be anonymous, either male or female. I wanted to feel powerful and maybe even a little menacing.

So one Saturday, shopping, I slipped away and bought a black hoodie. It was two sizes too big for me, and the salesgirl looked at me funny. I made an excuse about a gift for my brother and she shrugged, making the sale with indifference. I couldn't bring myself to care what she thought; I was too keyed up. At home that afternoon, I unpacked my purchases and put them away, kicking the hoodie under my bed for last.

My body thrummed with quiet excitement about what I was going to be starting. I went downstairs and played the dutiful daughter, kissing my dad's cheek and modelling a new skirt for my mom.

We had dinner in much the same way as always. Murmured compliments on how good the chicken was and the soft clink of cutlery on the plate.

As I forked another bit of salad, it occurred to me I'd have to hide my hands. I couldn't very well keep painting my nails and then having to remove the polish. I thought about what gloves to get and felt a pang of sympathy for my parents. They sat there, eating peacefully and they had no idea what I was planning. True, even I didn't know precisely what I was planning – so much of it couldn't be planned –but they didn't know their daughter was intending to stalk four of her classmates and break laws.

The reminder of the anonymous phone that was buried in one of my boots filled me with glee and I forced it down, reminding myself to be patient. I wouldn't do anything until I had the gloves.

A few days later I got the perfect gloves: bulky and heavy. The first time I tried them on, they annoyed me a bit. They were warm and solid, and they made my hands look completely anonymous. My hands could belong to anyone, with those gloves.

I went over the information I'd already begun to gather and memorized bits and pieces. My parents came in to say goodnight and I waited for the thud of wood on wood telling me that they were in for the night.

Finally.

Turning away from the mirror, I changed into a pair of plain black trousers I already had and pulled on the hoodie, then the gloves. I wanted to get the full effect. Now facing the mirror, I pulled up my hood and pinned my hair underneath it. It took a bit of trial and error to keep my hair back without pulling it too tight, but it worked.

A parody, I thought, of a girl getting dressed up nicely to go somewhere. It worked for me.

I smiled at my reflection, satisfied. The hoodie masked my body, so loose that even I couldn't tell what was underneath.

I tipped the boot with my cell phone – A's cellphone, I reminded myself – upside down and checked the battery. It was at almost full charge and I praised myself for my foresight.

Typing with gloved fingers was difficult, as the gloves made my hands much bulkier. I would need to practice. After several attempts I had four contacts listed, and plans forming.

Noticing the time, I changed and went to bed. That night, I couldn't sleep for the energy and adrenaline. The hoodie, the gloves, the phone meant it was all real. Before, it had all been plans and thoughts, what I might do or what I declared I would do.

Now though, it was real. I had the supplies and the intelligence needed.

I was going to do this.