Chapter 5

Uno and Mr. Meyer agreed to meet at a later date to settle the paper works. I could barely listen to their conversation. My thoughts were elsewhere, particularly to my mom. I always knew I was adopted. Though I've forgotten my life in the adoption home, I've accepted that my biological parents didn't want me. That was why I was grateful to mom for giving me a good life. I thought I knew her. I thought she was a person I could trust. Why then did she have to give away everything we owned to charity, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my back? It wasn't fair. She gave me everything, only to take it away with her death. I took a deep, shaky breath as Uno and I went out of the attorney's office. "By the way, Strawberries." There was that name again. She halted. "Here." I hurried to my feet to catch the sunglasses she tossed. "What's this for?" She faced forward. "To trim your nails with." I ignored her sarcasm. Uno has changed since we last met at the cemetery, and it didn't stop with her attitude. It was noticeable in the way she moved too. If she used to stroll before, she walked briskly now without waiting for me. I had to hasten my steps to keep up with her. "We just passed the elevators," I said, nudging my chin to the right though I knew she wasn't looking. "Are we taking the stairs?" She didn't speak until we were in front of the fire exit. She yanked the door open and motioned to the circular metal stairs. "Go ahead." I gulped when I looked down at the narrow steps. We were in the fifteenth floor of the building. A long way from the ground. "Don't make me repeat myself," she said in a warning tone. "Remember our agreement." Making sure not to look at the ground, I took one uncertain step after another downwards. My knuckles were white as a sheet as I held tightly to the railings. The engineers or whoever put it here shouldn't have made the fire exit stairs too narrow. And why pray tell were we going this way? I stopped abruptly. "The staircase is missing a few steps. We can't continue." "I'll take care of that," Uno said. She pushed me hard. I swallowed my heart as I fell. My screams were cut short as I landed on the open dumpster below. My heart was still racing uncontrollably when Uno jumped after me. She landed with grace, like she was on the set of an action film. "Well that was disappointing," she muttered under her breath. I removed a banana peel from my head and threw it to her. "I could have died! What's wrong with you?!" Uno hoisted herself from the dumpster, unaffected by my heavy breathing and glaring. "Sue me," she said. She didn't even help me up. What happened to the Uno who took care of me days ago? Was that all an act? After wiping away the sticky thing on my arm, I followed her grudgingly out of the stinky dumpster. When were into the back alley of the building, she pointed to fifty feet from us where a beat-up black van was sitting idly. "Whose van is that?" I asked suspiciously, staring at the chipping paint and aging tire. "Mine. Now hurry up Strawberries, we don't want them to catch us. They knew I'd be coming here. They always do." We jogged to the van's direction. "Where's the black Hummer? We used that the other day didn't we?" "Stop this nonsense," she snapped. "I've never seen you in my life before this, except for a picture that Manager owned." My head threatened to explode. She was keen on denying what I knew to be true. What should I think of this? We were a stone's throw away from the van when they showed up, folks with cameras and digital recorders, shouting Uno's name. So that was what she was talking about when she said the word them. They were on either side of the back alley, a group comprising of ten people or more. I wasn't in the position to count. We soon reached the van. Uno took a Mickey Mouse keychain from her pocket and started trying the keys one by one. Though she was cool and collected, there was a rising panic in my chest that I've never felt before. "Suppose these people reach us?" I said. "They'll just take your picture and go right?" "If that's what you think of the paparazzi, then you're living in a made up world." She fumbled for the keys. How many keys were there? She was taking too long. The urgency of the situation rubbed off on me. Though I didn't know what was too happen, I felt that it wouldn't be good. We had to get out of there. A click sounded, followed by a triumphant "aha" from her. "Get in and open the driver side for me," she instructed. She was barely able to start the engine when they reached us. They slammed their hands on the windows, as if it would grant them access to the van. Uno pressed her foot on the gas and sped out of there before it was too late. We survived. Mortality, zero. Traumatized, one- me. I never thought I'd have to escape from the paparazzi in my life. When we were cruising on the main road, I felt safe enough to speak. "Good thing that didn't happen back in the cemetery. That would be too much too soon." The car screeched to a halt. "Why did you stop?" I asked quizzically. "Engine problem if the police asks." She shifted to face me. Uno was gripping the wheel tightly but was trying to hide her irritation under a mask of straight face. "Listen, I've said it before and I'll say it for the last time. I have never met you before this. Never. You're starting to get on my nerves." I pursed my lips. She was getting on mine too. I was close to slapping some sense to her. At the last second, I remembered that the paper works for guardianship wasn't ironed out, and I could still end up in the foster home if she got pissed. I nodded numbly and stared out the window. God, why was this happening to me? She restarted the car.