“Slow down and we’ll blend in!” I snapped, and realization dawned on his face.
He slowed his steps—one, two, and then we were in the ebb and flow of the crowd. I forced my body to go slow even as panic clawed up my throat. His shoulders were coiled tight, as if he was also fighting the compulsion to bolt. We were like creatures resisting our base instincts.
Someone hawking pretty beaded bracelets said, “Hey, you with the silver hair! Wanna buy a trinket for your girl?”
He stiffened. “Uh, no, she’s not my—”
“I don’t do bracelets,” I interrupted, and tugged him sharply to the left and between two smoky food stalls. As we went, I pulled the hood of the Wild Spacer’s cloak over his head, disguising his hair. He glanced down at me in question, so I explained, “You’re too noticeable.”
He winked. “Sadly, it’s all natural.”
I gave him a scandalized look. “Are you flirting with me while we’re running for our lives?”
“Is there a better time?”
My stomach did a funny flip. “Yes,anyother t—ah!” I yelped as a red-hot blaster bolt careened over my head and melted the edge of a neon sign above us.
One of the men chasing us shouted, “There they are!”
“Plan failed,” he said simply as he grabbed my wrist,and we were running again, down narrower and narrower alleyways.
I’d taken enough detours on Coruscant to know how to get certifiably lost—and that was exactly what we needed to do. I hoped the alleyways would lead out into a larger street, but instead we found a dead end. So we backtracked to try to find something—anything—but the buildings were squeezed so tightly together there was nothing save for a narrow crevice between two grimy buildings. I could fit, but the Wild Spacer was too broad.
“I’m dead,” the Wild Spacer groaned.
Yes, yes, he was. Webothwere. My mind raced.
Wait—
There was a scene like this in the third installment ofUnder the Tan-Tan Sun.
“Try anyway!” I instructed.
He opened his mouth to complain, but the remaining three men were catching up to us through the alleyways, their footsteps growing louder. He muttered something to the sky and squeezed himself sideways into the narrow crevice between the two buildings. I grabbed a large piece of scrap from the ground and shuffled in after him, propping the scrap at the opening to try to hide us.
“This is your best plan?” he hissed. “I can barely breathe in here.”
“Then hold your breath,” I snapped in a sharp whisper. Then I wiggled my arms up and pulled his hood over his head, hiding his bright hair again. “There.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It’s the mole on my face, isn’t it? Everyone notices it.”
I honestly hadn’t seen the mole, but now that he mentioned it, there it was—just below the left edge of his mouth.
“And now you’re looking at it!” Was he—was hepouting?
“It’s not the mole,” I replied, looking at the mole. It was very close to his mouth, which seemed to always settle into this half grin or half grimace, tucked in at the corner. It was a nice mouth.
I startled myself with that thought—anice mouth? What even did thatmean?
“Well, it can’t possibly be—I think they’re coming,” he said, his voice going dangerously low. His arm went around my waist almost immediately. I tore my attention away from his mouth, my heart beginning to race in my ears.
The footsteps were close now, the men’s voices so loud they reverberated off the metal buildings. They would find us, killme—I’d heard enough stories that I knew exactly how this was going to go, because they were probably syndicate goons or bounty hunters or, or, or some sort of militia—and probably drag this Wild Spacerinto an alleyway to torture him for whatever information they must think he had and then—
Stop, I chastised myself. My imagination was getting away from me.
I should’ve stayed on the ship.
Fear clawed its way up my throat, even as I tried to swallow it down. Was I breathing loud? I felt like I was. What if they found us because of my wheezing? Why was it so hard to breathe? Painful, even? Why was—
