Mae

Chapter 6: Mae Kazimi

Chapter 6: Mae Kazimi

"Stop the car," I snap. The vehicle jerks and I push the door open quickly, bending down to speak to my driver, "Don't wait for me."

Before he can reply, I slam the door shut and walk off of the road and onto the sidewalk. I pull over my hood and slip my hands into the pocket of my dark green sweater, passing swarms of people trying to cross the street. I pass the honking cars, the traffic making people trying to get home frustrated and annoyed. I mean, I can relate. Nothing about New York traffic is amusing.

I turn the corner, passing the many brown office buildings and small shops on the side of the street. I increase my speed and follow my target, the girl with the long braid as she slowly begins to blend into the crowd. I can see her from a distance but if I don't hurry, I won't be able to see her at all.

"Excuse me," I mutter under my breath as I begin jogging, my hood sliding off my head. "Sorry."

The woman grumbles after me as I break into a run.

But so does she.

And then we're running through the streets of New York, turning corners and dodging people.

It's a competition. A game to see who lasts longer.

I grit my teeth and watch her run past the candy shop and take a sharp turn instead of crossing the street ahead. I take a different route, hoping to catch her in the middle. I run down the sidewalk, turning left instead and watch in satisfaction when I see her stop in the middle of the narrow alleyway and behind the shops, breathing hard.

"Tala," I stop in front of her, trying to catch my breath.

She climbs onto the wall, dangling her feet above my head, "Mae."

She's wearing a pretty white top with swirls of yellow flowers and green leaves. Her jeans are baggy and she wears worn air forces, looking like a normal Filipino teenager on her way to hang out with her friends after a long day at school.

But I know better than that.

I also know that she's looking at me in my green sweater and black sweats and judging me, but I really don't have time for this.

"Can I help you?" I cross my arms over my chest, looking up at her.

Tala tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, raising her eyebrows at me, "Is that how you greet an old friend?"

"I don't have time for this. What do you want."

She jumps off from where she is sitting and lands on her feet. I watch her carefully watch me.

"Heir to the American mafia, huh?" She stops in front of me. She's always been shorter than me, and has to look up when she speaks. "I never could have believed."

I shrug, "Not a big deal."

"A few years ago, it was just the Marauder's running through the streets of New York and then it was just...a Marauder." Tala kicks a small rock that lays by her feet. "Who would have thought?"

I frown, shaking my head, "I didn't know the others left too, Tala."

"Does it matter? Would you have come back if you knew?"

My silence is my answer. Sometimes that is enough.

She scoffs, raising her eyes to meet mine, "Of course. Of course."

I sigh loudly. I don't have time for this. I already have to look for the stranger and write God knows how many reports for my father and mother that I'm going insane. I run a frustrated hand through my hair and turn back to her.