FOR A SPLIT second, I stand there, frozen, as crowds of people brush past. Then a bolt of electric energy shoots through me, and I sprint down the road, charging after that Jeep.
There’s a nice big bright red traffic light up ahead. If I’m lucky, they’re at it.
If I’m unlucky, they’re gone.
I sprint up to the light, checking every car. Not them. Not them. Not them . . .
Them! In the left turn lane, two lanes up from where I’m standing. I have to cross over to the concrete island to get to them—then I bang on the window hard enough to rattle the glass. Liberty’s mother turns, swift and surprised, her mouth a giant O.
With a glance at the red light, she lowers the window, and I notice Liberty’s face, over in the passenger seat, is stained with tears.
“Liberty! The coins!”
Liberty’s mom swears under her breath. “Get out of this intersection before you get hit! I’ll pull over. Just—cross the street over there,” she orders me.
A moment later at the curb, Liberty quickly gets out. Her cheeks are dried but her face is flushed. “Sorry, Stanley,” she says, quickly handing over the tokens and map.
Her mother peers at me over her sunglasses like I’m some sort of threatening strain of bacteria. “I shouldn’t be leaving you here,” she says. “I think you should get in the car. How old are you?”
“Mom!” shouts Liberty, offended. “Stan’s small, but he’s old enough. He can handle it. In fact, Stanley’s one of the bravest kids I know.”
I snort.
“Swear to God. Stanley’s scared of everything, Mom. But he’s sticking it out! Despite his massive insecurities and fears!”
They pull away, with Mrs. Silverberg still shaking her head and muttering. Liberty sticks her hand out the window and makes a power fist.
I’m pretty mad at her, but still, I raise my fist back, my fingers closed tightly around our six golden coins.
Then I’m alone. For good.