𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗢𝗢

𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗟-𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗟 𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗕𝗦

The tech store we are supposed to be going to is in a mall, and one very important thing to know about me is that I do not like malls.

They are big and loud and crowded and I have to move very fast so people don't stomp on my head. I also don't like moving fast. It makes me need my inhaler. I don't like that thing a whole lot, either, even if it saves my life all the time.

I just hang on tight to Nat as we go through all the shiny halls, squeezing her hand and fidgeting with the straps of my backpack, because they keep going all twisty and I hate it. My dad's walking on the other side of me. To all the normal people here – shopping for clothes and pretzels and stuff – I think we look like an actual family.

That is a good feeling. The opposite of Gracie Mush. Some sort of happy, warm feeling instead; like when me and Liho lie on the sunny bits of the balcony in the summer. Gracie Sunshine, I think.

Nat isn't looking very sunny, though. Neither is my dad. I keep forgetting that we're supposed to be on the run.

They have new clothes that they got from the cheap store 'round the back, which are all a little bit ugly, but apparently it doesn't matter 'cause they're supposed to be undercover. I don't need undercover stuff. Nobody really looks at me anyway. I think it's because I only come up to their elbows.

"First rule of going on the run is, don't run, walk," Nat says. I think this is a good rule. Running makes my asthma bad.

My dad makes an agreeing sort of face.

"If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."

I look down at his shoes, which really are trash, and also too big. My shoes are just fine. I've had my pink sneakers for two and a half years, because I don't do much growing at the moment, and I don't think they make pink sneakers for adults. That sucks.

I just keep looking at all the shoes and holding onto Nat while we go into the Apple store on the first floor, chewing on the end of my hat 'cause Max is still in my backpack. It's a nervous sort of day. I do a lot of chewing when I'm nervous.

When Nat's nervous, she gets mean. And then she gets paranoid.

Paranoid is a big word that people use about Nat a lot, because Nat is a spy and spies are always paranoid. She double-checks all the locks about a thousand times and sometimes, she gets up in the middle of the night and wanders around with a gun, just looking in all the hiding spaces.

Today, Nat's paranoidness is making her twitchy, and she is holding onto me almost as tight as I'm holding onto her. She's using one of the computers now, and when she figures out that she can't see me and the computer at the same time, she picks me up and puts me on the table beside her.

I don't think that's allowed, but I don't say anything. Nat's too busy being a superspy and my dad's too busy looking awkward.

"The drive has a Level Six homing program," Nat says, putting the USB thingy into the side of the computer, "So as soon as we boot up, SHIELD will know exactly where we are."

My dad frowns. "How much time do we have?"

"About nine minutes from..." A ton of stuff pops up on the screen. "Now."

We all watch as the little letters on the computer type themselves out crazy fast, all this new stuff opening all over the computer, and Nat frowns at it.

"Fury was right about that ship; somebody's trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI. It keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands."

"Can you override it?" My dad asks. She bats him out of the way like Liho when he's mad; probably because he's standing in the way and that means she can't see me.