“I’m an animal lover, so the streets are lined with puppies and kittens. They’re adorable.”

“I hate you,” I mutter. “Thunder from Down Under? Really?”

“Hey, I’ve heard good things. They must be doing something right. They’ve been around forever.”

“No.” I shake my head. “This is all wrong.”

He laughs as we arrive at the Marina and the Bubble Car parks itself at a charging station.

Sobering, Garrett pulls me out of the car before I can finish changing my settings. Clowns? Puppets? Ugh. He consults his map. “This way.”

We walk along the boardwalk. Colorful boats bump against the dock under threatening gray skies. I’m glad I have Crystal’s umbrella, for more reasons than one. The fact the screens were picking up my preferences means I’m on the grid, and even though my costume should keep my face from being scanned, I’m grateful for the extra layer of protection.

Garrett glances over his shoulder. “We’re being followed,” he whispers.

“Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?” I peek back at a man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with zippers zig-zagging across the sleeves. His head is down, so I can’t make out his features. A gull squawks overhead, and I jump, nearly tripping over the uneven planks underfoot.

Garrett grabs my arm to steady me. “Calm down, Bets. This isn’t code red. Keep it yellow.”

Be alert. Observe. Remember details. See if someone is matching pace with you. I run through everything I’ve learned about staying conscious. The rule is never to go “green”—never relax, always keep noticing—but also don’t go “red” and freak out.

We slow down, and the man behind us walks past us, his eyes on the water.

“He would have stopped, too, if he was trailing us, right?” I ask.

“No. If you stop and they walk past you but pretend to be looking at something else—that’s a tip-off. He’s too aware. Memorize his face, something about his essence that’s unchangeable. He may be nobody, but better safe than sorry.”

I got a better look at him as he walked past. Dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses, small dark mole on his upper left cheekbone, soft jaw, left ear protrudes slightly more than the right. I commit the checklist to memory, discarding the glasses, mole, and hair as details that could easily change.

“This is it,” Garrett says, nudging me into a tiny coffee shop. We head to a table at the back of the space, where a dark-skinned girl sits, her long, purple fingernails curled around a dainty cup. She wears a tight, shimmery, purple dress that shows everything, and her eyes are surrounded by a rainbow of color with chalky smudges running down her cheeks. She’s clearly not afraid of being noticed.

She’s dazzling. I like her immediately.