Page 98 of Chasing Stardust

“Oh.” Eyeing the fence with fresh eyes, I step back. Great. “Is it electrified?”

The Cubs fan shrugs. “I heard a couple got arrested a few months ago after swimming in the fountain. No one mentioned them getting electrocuted.”

“Hmm.” My plan to get a selfie from inside the pool just got a bit more challenging. “Not impossible then.”

The guy gapes down at me, his thick eyebrows jutting into his forehead. “I guess that depends on your goal. Is a night in jail on your scavenger hunt list?”

If he only knew.

“Not exactly.” A loud laugh explodes out of my throat, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from blabbering my life story. “I only need a picture.”

“Oh, if that’s all.” He rolls his eyes.

I huff. “My mom climbed into that fountain thirty years ago to have her picture taken.”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So she died a few weeks ago, and—” I snap my mouth shut. “Never mind, I’ll figure it out on my own. Thanks for the info.”

“I’ll take it.”

The guy’s sympathetic smile triggers my tear ducts again, and I sniff back the waterworks. “Take what?”

Cubs guy looks away and blinks a few times before turning back to me. He exhales a long breath. “Your damn picture.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Yeah, really. But I don’t know what triggers the system. Could be the fence. Could be the actual fountain. You need to get in and get out. Make it fast. You’ve got ten minutes, tops, before the cops get here.”

“Got it! Thank you!” I bring up the camera app and hand the guy my phone. “You just—”

He rolls his eyes again. “I know how to work an iPhone.”

Less than four yards of freshly cut grass separates the fence from the pink marble fountain rim. A little voice inside my head—Dash’s voice—reminds me to be careful. I can only imagine the look on his face if he knew what I was about to do. I wish he were here to see how I don’t need him to cover my back anymore. I’ve got this. I may not qualify as a full-blown rebel quite yet, but I’m also not the same timid damsel I was a week ago when I set out to spread my mother’s ashes.

“I’ll be right back.” I set my backpack against the fence and leap over with my tote still slung over my shoulder. I might risk my phone and my clean underwear with a total stranger, but I’m not about to let Mom out of my sight. My heartbeat counts down the half seconds as I race across the grassy border. It takes me four long strides to get the edge of the fountain, and after setting my tote safely on the grass, less than a second to glide over the slippery side into the cool water.

My accomplice signals he’s ready, and I quickly pose with one of the green seahorses behind me. His thumbs-up tells me he got the photo, and I don’t waste any time dragging my soaked butt out of the pool and back across the grass.

My partner in crime hauls me over the fence and presses my phone into my wet hand.

Resisting the urge to hug him, I throw my phone into my tote and shove my arms through my backpack straps. Giddy excitement oozes out of my pores until I can taste the adrenaline. “Thank you!”

“Go!” He nudges me toward Columbus Drive with a gruff nod. “Get the hell out of here while you still can.”

With a quick wave, I bolt into the crowd, hoping to blend in, and make my way back toward the crosswalk in the distance. My hair flies behind me as my feet pound the pavers, water squishing out of my sneakers with every step.

I choke out a loud laugh. Dash would never believe I made it in and out of the fountain without peeing my pants.

As I reach the busy street, I realize I forgot to spread Mom’s ashes. I stop dead in my tracks and fumble with the urn. As soon as I get the lid off, I grab a fist of ashes and throw them into the air, ignoring the horrified looks from the crowd as I bolt across the road. The bus to Hicksville won’t wait if I don’t make it to the station on time.

The eventual crash from my adrenaline rush hits me somewhere between the last stop in Illinois and the first stop in Missouri. The fear of being robbed can’t compete with the need to sleep. With my eyes drooping, and my mind wandering to places I really wish it wouldn’t go, I start to drift off when a little boy with shaggy dark hair pops his head over the back of the seat in front of me. His big blue eyes stretch wide behind a pair of black plastic frames with no lenses. He watches me for a few seconds before opening his mouth. “Are you riding the bus all by yourself?”

“I am.”

He nods and flashes his tiny teeth in a devilish smile. “My daddy said you prolly ran away from home.”

I snicker at the low groan coming from the aisle seat in front of me. “No, I didn’t run away.”