“Well, at least we don’t have to sleep in the streets.” Patrick grabbed his roller bag, and we followed the other recruits down the sidewalk. People turned to stare. They must have heard we were coming.
A homeless man stood across the street, belongings at his feet, and he held his sign up higher as we passed. THE END OF THE WORLD ALREADY HAPPENED, YOU MISSED IT.
We approached an intersection, and the walk signal changed to a flashing hand as Patrick and I drew closer. The recruits in front of us made a run for it, leaving the two of us behind.
“Let’s just wait,” Patrick said as the hand went solid and cars began speeding past. He pointed. “The Hyatt’s right there.”
I looked up at the buildings as I waited for the light to change. Atlanta wasn’t really that different from Dallas. Big buildings, wide streets, cars everywhere, homeless people sleeping on benches. It was sort of disappointing.
The walk signal lit up, and we crossed. The recruits had disappeared around the corner, into the Hyatt, but the balding man was standing with a shorter man at the end of the street, pointing to us.
Our side of the street was otherwise empty, except for a boy in a black leather jacket.
He caught my attention right away, leaning against a white car parked on the street, because it was too hot for a jacket. A faded purple backpack rested by his feet, and he had one ankle casually crossed over the other, like he was waiting for something. His eyes skipped over Patrick and landed on me, catching me watching him. He winked.
I heard a clattering noise behind me, and I turned to see Patrick’s phone bouncing off the sidewalk.
“I’ve got it.” The boy reached down and scooped up the phone, extending it to Patrick with a smile.
“Thanks,” Patrick said, taking it and examining it for cracks.
The boy gave him a friendly slap on the arm. “No problem.” As he said the words, he easily slipped Patrick’s wallet out of his back pocket. I barely saw the flash of leather before it disappeared into the boy’s jacket.
The thief grabbed his backpack, jumped off the sidewalk, and began walking—at a brisk pace, but not a run. He hadn’t noticed me watching him. Patrick started toward the hotel again, oblivious.
“Hold this.” I threw my backpack at Patrick and broke into a run. I wasn’t letting this thief rob Patrick, who was maybe one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Shit like that was supposed to happen to me, not him.
I darted between the parked cars and into the road. The thief was still walking, apparently oblivious to me following him.
I reached for him. I grabbed a handful of his jacket.
I was crazy. What if he punched me in the face?
Wouldn’t be the first time.
He jumped, clearly startled, and tried to twist out of my grasp. I kicked the back of his knee, and he let out a yelp as he fell to the ground.
I launched at him before he could scramble to his feet. He squirmed beneath me, rolling over as he tried to throw me off. I sat on his stomach and shoved my forearm into his throat.
He wheezed as his body went limp beneath me. Panic crossed his face. He lifted both hands in surrender.
I pulled back, surprised at how easily he’d given up. He probably could have tossed me off, if he really tried. He was at least six inches taller and outweighed me.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he gasped as I removed my arm from his neck.
“Uh, Clara?” Patrick’s shoes appeared next to us. “Is there a problem?”
I dug my hand into the thief’s jacket pocket and grabbed Patrick’s wallet. I held it out to him.
“Oh, crap,” Patrick said, patting his pockets. He took the wallet, peering from me to the boy I still had pinned to the ground.
“Get off me,” the thief said, squirming.
I climbed off him. He got to his feet and did a quick scan of the area, probably checking for cops. He spotted something behind me and rolled his eyes.
“Wonderful,” he said.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Grayson St. John, in the flesh, jogging toward us. He had a big smile on his face. That smile wasn’t just for the cameras.
“Please tell me you’re one of my recruits,” Grayson said breathlessly as he stopped next to us. He was shorter than he appeared on camera, maybe only an inch or two taller than me, and I was five foot six.
It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “Oh. Yeah, actually.”
Grayson’s smile widened. “Awesome.”
An emotion I’d never experienced rushed through my veins. Pride? It was strange to be in a place where tackling someone was cause for praise.
“Edan,” Grayson said to the thief. “I’m glad to see you came back. Less glad that you’re pickpocketing my recruits.”
“In my defense, I didn’t know he was a recruit,” Edan said. “I thought they’d all gone inside.” He gestured at Patrick. “And come on. Look at him.”
“Hey!” Patrick did a quick scan of his own body. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re carrying designer luggage, dude. Your jeans have been tailored for you.” He pointed to Patrick’s ankles. “You look like a rich kid on your way to a party in the Hamptons.”
Patrick lifted one foot. “It’s just good sense to have your jeans tailored. They last for years.”
“That’s true,” Grayson agreed.
Edan looked at me with an expression I could only describe as rich people, huh? I ignored it. I didn’t want to trade any looks with this thief. We were not the same.
“You guys go ahead and get checked in,” Grayson said, clapping Edan on the shoulder. “I’m going to talk to Edan
