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Harper nagged me constantly. Every night when we talked to each other over the phone, I was lectured about the effects of being a cat lady and how a neon sign above my head would ward away men.
Harper moved to Maryland and tried to convince me to join her, but I didn't want to leave. All my memories were here: my childhood home, the tree my brother Peter taught me to climb, the backyard where Peter and Henry used to chase me, and the road where I had my bike accident after Dad took off my training wheels. This place held the essence of my past, the roots of my identity, and I wasn't ready to let it go.
I was surrounded here by the good memories…and the bad.
"That's that!" the lawyer exclaims, clapping his hands together with finality. His cheerfulness contrasts sharply with the emotions engulfing me.
What did he have for breakfast? An espresso enema.
"That is that," I murmur. On paper, I am now a millionaire, a person who should be free from cares and worries. But the truth is far from it. The riches I have inherited only magnify the fear and grief that plague me. The only solace they offer is the ability to run.
Harper keeps telling me to reach for the stars, but what if I’m so far down in my hole that I can't even see the sky?
What then?
“Thank fuck.” Harper's murmurs. Grasping my hand, she pulls me to stand, “Now let’s go celebrate.”
Chapter 5
Poppy
“Flight 1137 will begin boarding in fifteen minutes.” The attendant announces with a voice way too peppy for a morning flight.
Seriously, what did that lady drink, and where can I order a cup? I need energy like that.
I groan. "Why do I listen to you, Harps?"
My head rests in the palm of my hand. It's been a while since I was hungover, and Harper might be right—the only cure might be to chase it away with another drink. However, the one time she played Mother Teresa, she gave me a large iced oat milk shaken double espresso instead of a Bloody Mary.
What’s worse is that as soon as we land, we have to rush to meet the movers at my new apartment.
What the hell was I thinking? Tequila and packing sounds like a good idea until it isn’t.
“Because I give the best advice. Duh.” Harper replies.
I narrow my eyes; the movement hurts my head. “How are you not hungover?”
She stops typing and slaps her stomach, “Iron gullet.” She goofily grins, then resumes typing. Her laptop screen is black, and the green letters only add pressure to my dry eyes.
“Are the police going to be waiting for us when we land?” I kid, as she keeps typing away and doing some kind of hacker shit like she always does.
I don’t even know the buttons to press to reset my iPhone. Meanwhile, my bestie was winning hackathons before we entered high school.
Slapping her hand over her heart, she feigns offense, “I’m offended you think I’d get caught.” Her grin is malicious.
“I remember when you were fourteen.” I scold her playfully.
Harper is the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Tall, blonde, baby blue eyes. The perfect waist-to-curve ratio. Flawless skin.
Malibu Barbie would be envious.
Harper looks like a bimbo, and sometimes, she likes to play that role. No one would believe she hacked into the Pentagon at fourteen. You should have seen the shock on the agents' faces when they raided the all-pink bedroom, and I mean all pink. Carpet, bed, walls; even the freaking lightbulbs were pink-hued. In the middle of that pink cotton candy land was Harper on her dad's work laptop, hacking away. Her parents didn't even know she had her father's laptop. Hers had been taken away because she was caught skipping school.
Why did she skip school and convince me to join her? She bought a USB drive. Sounds innocent enough until you throw Harper into the situation. She purchased it from a man on the dark web and was worried he was a serial killer, so she took me as backup. The only backup I brought was a good set of lungs that could scream. Thankfully, he wasn’t a murderer but was so impressed with Harper that he wanted to meet her in person to see if she was real.
Since her renegade days, she has changed hats, as she refers to them. She is no longer a black hat hacker but now wears a white hat. White is better for her skin tone; black was too harsh against her sun-kissed tan, so she claims.
She now works for the NSA, so she moved to the Arctic, otherwise known as Maryland.
