Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

I inhaled deeply as I stepped through the terminal doors of Logan International Airport. Despite it being late August, the city held a slight chill and breeze from the coast. It smelled like any city I'd ever been to. Car exhaust and tar. I hailed a taxi, shifting the tote bag on my right shoulder. A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb, hugging it tightly. I winced by how close it got to the curb and my feet. The taxi driver stepped out of the taxi, smiling. He was a kind looking African American man, about the age of thirty two or three, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans.

"Where you headed, ma'am?" he asked, sporting a think Bostonian accent.

I loaded my suitcase into the truck. The rest of my stuff is to be sent up from Washington. I packed them, with Ariana's and Margaret's help, into three boxes. Apparently, I'm going undercover as the President's friend's daughter (still pretty accurate for my real life.) I still get to be Ember Rhinehart, just not the real Ember Rhinehart. The spy. But, hey, I've been hiding it my whole life. I'm used to aliases and covers. What's one more?

"Boston University." I answered, closing the trunk with a loud thump and rounding the vehicle.

The man looked impressed. I smiled, shaking his outstretched hand.

"Damn. Congratulations, ma'am."

"Ember. Please call me Ember."

He let go of my hand, nodding. He turned on his heel, rounding the car and climbing into the driver's seat. I climbed into the back of the taxi. The driver turned the key, and soon we were on our way. Butterflies clouded my stomach, escalating every minute. I was excited and scared and happy and sad and nervous. Oh God, I'm an emotional hot mess, aren't I?

"Would you mind listening to the radio, Ember?" the driver asked me, filtering seamlessly into Boston traffic.

I shook my head, smiling.

"No, I wouldn't."

Nodding, he turned on the radio. Through the crappy speakers of the cab (sorry, but they are), a country song played. I looked out the window, gawking at the city. Of all the cities I've ever been too, Boston is not on my list. But it is now. I sat back into the worn and torn upholstery, stained with coffee and lip stick and years of use.

He drove through the streets with ease. The minute Boston University came into view, the most extreme butterflies I've ever had in my entire life filled my stomach. And, I'm not exaggerating.

"Ember, welcome to Boston."

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