Already, I’ve seen two or three businessmen passing by that bear a strong resemblance to the person I’m searching for. A terrible thought grips me: What if I end up stalking the wrong guy? It’d be so easy for me to blow it. And what then? The whole night would be wasted—a night that could’ve been spent finishing my ten-page history research assignment for tomorrow or revising for next week’s chemistry unit test. I’d have to tell Henry and user C207 that I messed up, have to sit with the awful taste of failure I’ve spent my whole life trying very hard to avoid, and the whole plan would implode, and—

“Hey, you okay, kid?”

I jerk my head up. A beautiful, kind-faced woman who looks young enough to still be in college has stopped to peer over at me, her thick-lashed eyes wide with concern.

I realize I’ve been tapping my feet anxiously on the pavement like a scared rabbit, and I doubt my expression is too reassuring either. Get your shit together, Alice, I scold myself, forcing my feet to still. There’s no way I can run a successful criminal enterprise if I have nerves of watery tofu.

“Oh yeah. I’m fine. Great,” I say, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can. Maybe a little too much enthusiasm. The woman takes a small step back as if uncertain about my mental stability.

“Okay then, just checking...” There’s a distinct Southern lilt to her voice—as in southern China, not Texas—making her words flow like water down a stream. After a few beats of deliberation, she turns around to leave, but before I can even breathe a sigh of relief, she pauses and asks, “Are you here with anyone? Your parents?”

God help me.

I know I have the kind of face that could easily be confused for a twelve-or thirteen-year-old’s, but the very last thing I need right now is adult supervision. Time for me to put my lying skills to the test, I guess.

“I am, actually,” I say. My voice sounds a few octaves too high. “Um, my parents are waiting for me over there”—I motion to a crowded line outside some Japanese BBQ restaurant in the near distance—“so I should really go...”

Without waiting for her to reply, I walk away at a speed that would probably impress our PE teacher, Ms. Garcia. I don’t stop until I’ve turned into a dark narrow alley, tucked between two stores and hidden from view, then crane my neck to see if the woman’s left.

She hasn’t.

Not because she’s searching for me, though, but because of the stout, gray-haired man heading her way, a wide grin stretching the faint wrinkles around his mouth.

Her father? I wonder.

Then he holds up a huge bouquet of roses that looks like a prop for a bad rom-com movie, and the woman squeals and runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

So...definitely not her father then.