Blue on Blue

Chapter One

Maggie Krane pulls the latest edition of Teen Vogue from the magazine stand and plops it onto the counter, next to a pack of Hubba Bubba Watermelon Bubble Gum. The cashier, a freckled-faced woman with tufts of grey hair, pushes buttons on the cash register.

"$21.32," she says. 

Maggie tugs at the cash smooshed into her phone-case pocket and hands it to her. 

The cashier's mouth slips side ways. "That's $21.32," she repeats, eyeing the crinkled bills. She gestures to Maggie's phone. "You got any more in there?" 

Maggie peers into her empty phone pocket. Her face turns pink. Connie gave her enough money to only cover the groceries. Her shoulders slouch. "Minus these," she says, pushing the pack of Hubba Bubba and the Teen Vogue to the side. 

The cashier's fingers thump against the register keys. "Void, void," she mutters, shaking her head. She slides the money into the register drawer, then gathers some loose change and drops it into Maggie's hand. She slips the groceries into a brown paper bag and peers over Maggie's head. "Next," she yelps.

Maggie cradles the grocery bag in one arm as she swings the milk-jug back and forth with the other. 

There's a man standing under the Shop & Go exit sign, blocking the doorway. His knuckles graze against the shop keeper's bell, as he pulls the brim of his baseball hat over his eyes. 

The tips of Maggie's spiked hair barely reach the POW*MIA logo attached to the front pocket of his faded army jacket.

He reaches into his pocket and tugs at a folded piece of paper. "God saves," he tells her in a deep voice. On the back of his hand is a cross-shaped scar that catches her eye. She stares at it just long enough for him to slip the paper between her fingers. 

"Weirdo," she says under her breath, tossing it into the grocery bag. She shoves past him, out into the streets of Fallowshill. 

Cigarette butts and used needles litter the gutters. An MBTA city bus pulls away from the curb, leaving a cloud of black exhaust in the thick as swamp August air. It'd be safer for Maggie to take the bus to her apartment stop, like she usually does, but her left over change won't cover the fare and her bus pass has been past due for days. 

She keeps her eyes low, careful not to make eye contact with the people pushing past her. One wrong look and she could be the target of someone's hate and rage. Maggie has already been Bria McFarland's target more times than she cares to count. Last she heard, Bria was at some boot camp in Maine for teenagers with behavioral problems. Maybe Bria will come back fixed. Or better yet, maybe she won't come back at all.

Maggie paces past a strip of storefronts, dim and empty. The only businesses in downtown Fallowshill that have survived the Amazon take-over are the Shop & Go convenient store and Benny's, the local bar room, a testimony to what is truly important to the citizens of Fallowshill – cigarettes, scratch tickets, and booze. 

She catches her reflection in a storefront window, and does a double-take. The grocery bag has pushed her sleeve up just enough for the cuts to show. She shifts the bag and shakes her arm until the sleeve falls loose around her wrist. 

If only the hunt would end.

"Is that you, Insane Krane?" a voice shouts from behind her. 

Maggie's shoulders sink. Bria is back. 

"Hey Crazy Krane, I'm talking to you!" 

Ignoring Bria is an awful idea. Facing her never ends well either. The only way to escape her wrath is to out-run her, but what are the chances of that happening while holding a gallon of milk and a bag full of groceries? Maggie picks up her pace.