Chapter 48

Walking around the mall with seven other teens, I think of how if this was under any other circumstances where I was in my former occupation, I would be absolutely ballistic. No agent with a third of a brain would ever need any kind of hint or clue to gather that this would not be an acceptable situation. It just stands out too much.

But, I'm not that, and I have to tell that to myself. Eight people walking around a mall is probably not an unusual spectacle. Eight teens walking around is probably what every American has seen or imagined once in their life.

Entering a retail store, we disperse into groups of two or three to look around. I drift around with Mia and Lewis.

"Look at this shirt. It's so pristine," remarks Mia as she pulls out a baby blue shirt that looks to be made of cotton. The pearly buttons glisten with the shiny surface of the shirt.

"It looks good with your hair," complements Lewis as he looks over from a rack of jeans.

"He's right," I say.

Looking around, I notice a