I sank down with my back against the wall and my head in my hands. I ran them through my hair a few times, untangling it while trying to get my breath back. I glanced up as the crowd of men ran past the alleyway, and felt a tear run down my cheek. What had I done? There's no way I could go home now-that would be the first place they would look for me. Hopefully they'd look there sooner rather than later, while I was away. But where could I go? I choked out a sob and started pulling at my hair again. I heard somebody walk up to me, and I squeezed my head tight, hoping it would pop before he reached me. But the shoes that appeared in the corner of my sight weren't scuffed or dirty. They were clean, polished to perfection.
'Bad day?' A husky vioice asked me. It had a slight accent-Cavan? I didn't look up, though, just sighed.
'You have no idea.' I whispered. He sank down to the floor beside me, and I moved over a little, not to give him space, just so that if he tried to murder me he would have to reach that bit further.
But instead of pulling out a knife, he replied with his own sigh. 'Yeah, actually, I think I do.' I glanced up at him sitting there, looking at me. He was kind of cute, straight dark hair that just reached his eyes and about a week or two's stubble building up. He was wearing skinny jeans and a nicely tailored navy jacket. He looked older though, maybe twenty. 'My Dad is officially ashamed in me. He always preferred my brother, but in the interview yesterday, I don't know, I said something wrong? He called me and told me how much of a disappointment I am. Didn't hurt at all.' He told me his whole damn life story like I actually cared. I didn't. I had my own problems. Yeah, he was cute-and maybe famous?-but he was well older than me.
'Oh.' Was all I said, and he chuckled sarcastically. He didn't leave. He sat there, staring at me, which was creepy as hell. Okay, maybe I was staring at him, too, but I couldn't see that. 'Uh.. Sorry if I seem rude but who are you?' He raised an eyebrow at me, as if surprised I didn't know him.
'I'm Josh. McClorey. I'm in a band-The Strypes? Who are you?' Okay, maybe he was famous. Bands were cool. Weren't they? Everyone liked bands. I nodded slightly. I liked bands too, then.
'I'm Zana. King. I'm in a School.' I attempted a small joke, and he smirked. Just then, two of the men turned onto the alley. I could tell them a mile off-big scruffy hoodies on with baggy jeans and trainers that were falling apart. I cursed and looked down, thinking of a way not to be seen. Josh turned, looking at the men. He was about to ask me something, when I snapped my head up to him.
'Kiss me.'
'What?' His eyes widened.
'Please. They can't know I'm here. Please I can't be caught yet. Oh God, they're gonna find me and kill me a-' He smashed his lips onto mine, cutting off the hysterics beginning to form on them. I put my arms on his shoulders, to make it seem like we were a couple, and waited for the men to pass.
When they did, I pulled away from Josh and hugged my knees into my chest, rocking back and forth slowly. I started to cry again, and I could feel Josh's eyes on me, unsure of what to do.
'Zana, what happened? Who were they?' He asked me worridley. I turned my head to him, aware that my makeup was dripping down my face. He seemed genuinely worried, and I wiped my face, sitting up, hoping to seem carefree. Like that would work.
'Nothing happened. I don't know who they are. They just started following me.' I lied, and it was obvious he knew it. He looked up the lane, at the retreating figures of the men, then back at me.
'Look, Zana, I have another interview soon, and you can come along to that if you want. Then we could report them to the Guards?' He suggested, standing up and holding his hand out to me. I warily took it and agreed, knowing that there was no way in hell I would be going to the Guards. He started walking and I followed two steps behind him, glancing around, looking for more of the men.
