Thanks to my reviewers!
Chapter 2- Italian Food and Erasers
"You've never been to an Olive Garden before?" The Marine asked, holding open the restaurant's door. "Italian food is the best." The rain had finally let up, and we walked a sort distance to what Glenn insisted was the greatest restaurant since the beginning of time. I stepped into the expensive-looking eatery, and tried not to drip all over the place. (This was impossible, by the way, because I was thoroughly soaked.) I instantly scanned for possible escape routes. Not a lot in the entryway, besides the door, but I spotted windows further inside.
"Good evening, table for two?" A petite little waitress with red hair greeted us, grabbing a couple of menus.
"Yes." Glenn said, and we followed her back, through a couple archways, to a table by a big window. This was good, even though I tried to avoid breaking through glass if I could. Leaving my blood places was not wise. I'd learned that the hard way.
I sat down and opened a menu. All the entrée descriptions were making my stomach growl again, and the smell was intoxicating.
"Can I start you two off with anything to drink?"
"Yes, I'd like a Pepsi, thanks."
I glanced up at the server's expectant expression.
"Oh, uh, a lemonade please." I said, remembering to include a "please" at the last moment. Wouldn't want people to think the mutant bird girl had no manners.
"What do you think? See anything good?" I heard from behind the menu across the table as the waitress walked away and I buried myself in my menu again. "My personal favorite is the Chicken Alfredo."
I didn't care much for poultry-for obvious reasons-but when you live like I have, you can't afford to be picky. A couple of minutes later, our server materialized by the table, and asked if we were ready to order. The Marine stated his choice, and the waitress scribbled stuff down on a little notepad. Then she turned to me.
"Um, can I have the spaghetti, Alfredo, stuffed ravioli, and some more salad and breadsticks?" I'd already devoured the ones set out earlier.
"Sure thing," our server said automatically, and then frowned, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear. "You know, this is quite a lot of food and-"
"Trust me, I can eat it." I interrupted.
"Okay," she replied disbelievingly, gathered the menus, and shuffled over to an adjacent table. I glanced out the window, scanning for trouble.
"Are you sure you can eat all that?"
I reluctantly turned back around to face Stapley. This is why I preferred to steal food; no one was there to question my enormous appetite. It's not like I ever got my fill stealing though.
"Yup." I said, and turned back to face the window. Then I froze. It's not like I was an expert on handsome guys, but I've learned how to spot Erasers over the years. Out in the parking lot, were too incredibly good-looking men, scanning the lot. There was no mistake about it, I'd been found.
I could feel adrenaline heightening my senses, but tried to keep my breathing and heart rate under control. These particular Erasers weren't familiar, and there was a slim, (slimmest as can be- virtually nonexistent) chance that they didn't know what I looked like. I dared not hope, but it wouldn't hurt if I tried to look like I wasn't about to have an episode.
"Are you okay?" The Marine asked. Looks like I'd failed that one.
"Uh, yeah." I replied, "I just need a moment." I stood up and tried not to sprint back to the restaurant entrance. I'd never really been one to panic, but I somehow felt responsible for Glenn. I wasn't used to having to what out for someone else; it had normally just been me, myself, and I. I needed to draw the Erasers away from the Olive Garden, and hopefully get away after that.
The only person in the entryway was a short, light-haired waiter, dropping menus on the wooden podium. No Erasers. At the moment, I couldn't decide whether this was good or bad. Then I realized that I'd left The Marine totally unprotected. Not to brag, but I'd done my fair share of Eraser bashing, and I didn't think they taught that at boot camp.
This time I did sprint back to the table, other customers giving me looks. I couldn't have cared less. When I reached the table, I instantly spun around and ran back toward the exit.
There had been no one at the table.
I wasn't about to entertain the idea that he'd gone to the restroom. That was a stupid hope, and coincidences like that just didn't happen to me.
I blasted out the doors into the cool, slightly-humid, night air…and right into an Eraser. I tried to jump back, but he locked his muscular arms tight around me and held me fast. He smelled bad, like he needed a serious shower. I probably didn't smell so hot either, but I had a better excuse. I wiggled with all the wiggling ability I had, but it was no use. I wasn't going anywhere.
"You've caused quite a bit of trouble for the School, little birdie." He said into my ear. Okay, I really could've gone without the corny reference to my significantly less-than-normal DNA.
"Yeah, very original." I grunted, and jammed my heel down as hard as I could on the Eraser's foot. He didn't loosen his hold, but lost his footing. Before he could regain it, I threw all my weight forward, and flipped him over my head, smacking the mutant on the concrete. Now that I was free, I turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.
Sure, I felt bad about the Erasers snatching the guy who was only being kind to me, but there was absolutely no way I was going back to the School. Besides, they had no interest in full-grown Marines, and chances are they wouldn't kill him, why would they? There was no doubt about it though; his life would be trashed once they were through with him. (Example A speaking here.) As much as I wanted to kick it in gear and tear out of D.C., and hopefully get off the School's radar, I couldn't bring myself to just run away.
I'll admit, I was many things, including a food thief, but I was not a coward, and the School was not going to get away with this.
I could hear approaching footsteps, and took a sharp turn to the right. As quickly as I could, I started to scale the wet wall of the building beside me. Being a kid with wings, I don't do a ton of climbing unless there are witnesses around. Obviously, taking flight at that point would have given me away. I hauled myself up the slick, brick surface, with the help of a drainage pipe. Once halfway up, I turned and looked down. Through the gloom, I could see the Eraser jogging through the alleyway. He continued on, and I resumed climbing. It was chilly up on the roof, and I ran to the other side, wanting to get a birds-eye view of where I was going to be spending to the next month or two of my life. The building was much taller than its neighbors, and provided a wide view of the city.
I scanned the skyline, instantly picking out the Capitol, The Washington Monument, and The White House. I spent to next ten minutes creating a mental map of Washington D.C., and refining a rough plan. This was the first time I'd actually had a plan, and specific goal, aside from the time I broke out of the School. I liked having something to work toward again. After double-checking exactly where the closest payphone was, I scanned the ground below and circled outward, looking for any sign of my pursuers. As far as I could see, they were gone, but it was best no to take any more chances. After half climbing, half falling back to the ground, I turned north.
A few minutes later I reached the pay phone outside a convenience store. As I'd hoped, a phone book was hanging below the phone's housing; I grabbed it and flipped to the business section, searching for an internet café. I quickly found one and memorized the address. I needed a map and I knew it. Searching for a solution, I glanced up and smiled, an idea forming in my mind. Across the pavement, by a gas pump, sat an unattended car. I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't steal it. Come on people, give me a break.
I jogged over to the white sedan and stood between it and the pump. For couple minutes I waited for the next victim of my ten-second con. I ran my fingers through my hair, sort of detangling it, and tried to clean my face. Satisfied with my reflection in the passenger-side window of the car, I straightened up as a really shiny and expensive looking car pulled up to the adjacent pump. Perfect. (And for once I'm not being sarcastic.)
A middle-aged man emerged and walked over to the pump. He looked to be about thirty-six or thirty-seven, with sort, brown hair combed back from his face. He was medium build and height, and not altogether bad looking. I turned back to my pump and shoved my hands in my pockets, then took then out hastily and shoved them in my back pockets, repeating the process. I searched through my jacket pockets as though looking for something.
"Oh man, you've got to be kidding me!" I said a little loudly in the man's direction. He glanced up with brown eyes. "Jeez, I could have sworn I had some cash leaving practice. Ugh." I continued. The man took a step in my direction,
"Uh, Ma'am? Are you all right?" He called. Good, I had his attention, if I could just play this right I might be able to pull it off. I turned to him.
"Oh, sorry-I-uh, yeah, actually no. I knew, knew I had some cash with me, but I, of course, I can't find it now." I said with a "You-know-how-it –is" expression, turning to the car and leaning on it, with my arms on the hood.
"Are you in need of a lot?" He answered, and walked over. I turned to him again.
"No, just enough for gas to get me to the hospital. You see, my older sister was in an accident, and I just got the call at tennis practice. Of course, my car chose now to run out of gas, when I don't have any money. But, I couldn't accept-"
"Hey, no big deal," He said with a charming smile. "I can spare ten bucks." He pulled a couple bills out of his wallet. "Was it that accident down south? On the freeway?" He asked. I didn't know if was testing me, to make sure I wasn't scamming him, which I was. I decided to play it safe.
"I'm not sure, as soon as I heard 'sister', 'accident', and 'hospital', all in the same sentence, I was on my way. I didn't wait for details." The man looked down at his watch.
"You had Tennis practice at eleven 'o clock at night?" He said disbelievingly. My brain backpedaled, searching for an excuse for the late hour. I hadn't realized it was so late, and forgot to take that into consideration in my story. Suddenly, an idea occurred to me.
"Earlier this afternoon, my school's two tennis teams took a bus over to Philadelphia, for a game. The game was scheduled to start at eight, and lasted an hour and a half. By the time we drove back to school, it was ten-thirty." He nodded, and put the green bills into my hand.
"Hope your sister is okay."
"Thank you Mister…"
"DiNozzo. Anthony DiNozzo."
Muhahahahahahaha!!!!!!! And this is where I leave you hanging. Call me evil, and think annoyed thoughts at me, but they will all disappear once you read chapter 3! I hope you all had as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it. :]