I wandered over to the bus stop on Yates Street, and every old lady seemed to shoot me a worried look of grandmotherly concern. Sweetie, one said as I leaned my burning body against the plate-glass window of the hearing-aid shop, are you lost?

I ran away from her and went into Merle Norman. That’s the pink makeup place; they give girls free samples and charts showing you how to make over your face. I felt so dirty, I thought I’d scam some cold cream cleanser.

I looked in the mirror and I looked really fucked up.

The saleslady in pink, she started getting tense, saying, Can I help you, can I help you, as I rubbed red lipstick on my eyelids and blue eyeshadow on my lips.

If you’re not going to purchase anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

I was aloft, a derelict acrobat. I climbed up fire escapes, hoisting myself over ledges, jumping over gaps. Hours, I searched. I walked through alleys, carefully casting my eyes in corners where weeds grew from concrete.

The runaway clues, I returned to. On the roof where China had taken me, I found Athena’s sleeping bag.

China had told me all about Athena, a bank robber she’d met in juvie. A fifteen-year-old girl who’d held up the Royal Bank at the corner of Yates and Douglas.

Athena’s sleeping bag smelled like rain and smoke. A pink plastic barrette was on the plaid cloth, a few blond hairs in the silver clasp. The shampoo bottle was gone, replaced by the newspaper. I glanced through it to see if there was news of our crime. FRESNO AND TAHITI ON THE LOOSE. Of course there wasn’t. On the front page, it said TWO KAYAKERS FEARED DEAD.

China was right. Where was everyone? Maybe Dirk figured out that we ran up to the roofs. Maybe there’d been a sweep. Victoria wouldn’t want bank robbers and hookers running rampant when all the tourists were starting to arrive for their vacation in the City of Gardens, God’s country.

I decided to take a nap. I was pretty tired, actually, and I couldn’t come up with a smarter plan. I lay on my side, holding my knees against my chest. I took off my coat, and the white fur was no longer soft, no longer white. It was gray and gritty, as if it had been rinsed in rain. In the slits of the pockets, I felt for cocaine and found only a fading sweet smell. I closed my eyes. It was a good thing the fever was under my skin ’cause I didn’t wake up even when the night sky let down a light black rain.