Em sits quietly in her father’s silver convertible, staring up at the mall. Carefully she rearranges the blond curls around her face, and fingers her necklace, a slight golden chain on which hangs a precious heart-shaped locket, given to her by a stranger, long ago. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and steps out of the horribly expensive car. Tottering slightly on her bubblegum pink, platform high heels, Em secures her designer sunglasses over her eyes. Quickly, she walks across the asphalt, into the mall.


People always stare. Em knows that they recognize her from the tabloids, the newspapers, or television. Cameras flash as people realize who exactly she is. Em ignores them all, struggling to control herself in the stifling crowd. Pushing and shoving people aside, she makes her way to the escalator. Fingers impatiently tapping a rhythm on her palm, she rides the moving steps up to the second floor. It is less crowded there, but the people are even more bold and intimidating. Once, a man in a t-shirt, with dragon tattoos flowing down each arm reaches out, grabbing her roughly by the arm, making a comment about her body. Em doesn’t even blink as she twists his arm behind his back and pops it out of place. Ihate days like this, she thinks as she walks away from the man, who is huddled up against a ficus.


Em practically runs the rest of the way to her destination, a little sports store that is tucked away between an Abercrombie store and some irreputable fast food restaurant. When she enters, she sees the owner, Ricardo, deep in an argument with a customer. Quietly, Em slips into the back room, and pulls off her uncomfortable footwear. Carefully, she pulls off her blue silk blouse, revealing a green t-shirt with the name and logo of the store on it. Off comes the blonde wig, and quickly, Em pulls a chestnut colored wig over her real hair, and pulls the chocolate waves back into a loose ponytail. Em picks up her blond wig, and holds it in her hands. Without striking a match, or flicking open a lighter, Em sets the wig on fire. With her bare hands.


“I don’t know why you insist on burning those things.” Ricardo says behind her. Em jumps, wondering if he could possibly have seen. But no, she realizes. Her back was to him. Em quickly drops the wig into a wastebasket. “It was ugly.” She shrugs her shoulders, “You know I hate wearing the things.”

Ricardo yawns. “Then why do you wear them? It’s not as if you have anything to hide, chika.” Before Em has a chance to reply, to say that maybe she does have secrets that are hidden so carefully from prying eyes, Ricardo grasps her shoulders firmly. “It is another bright day, chika. Let’s go and make the athletes happy, si?”

Em nods, hoping that Ricardo won’t notice her smoking fingertips. “Si,” she says, smiling at him. Em has no idea that today, someone will discover her secret, the one spark of life that has kept her from going completely insane. That someone rang the bell at the counter, and called out, "Bonjour, monsieur? Is anyone dere?"