The surrounding crowd backed away with surprised shouts as the remainder of the smoothie splashed across the ground, and Sora stood in silence as Lori continued across the bridge without a backward glance.
Terror seized her at the implication; she couldn’t breathe.
Wendy… Dammit!
What do I do… What can I do?
I can’t let this opportunity pass me, but if Lori starts targeting Wendy if I don’t… What can I do?!
Sora’s frozen mind snapped back to reality as a man ran over to her from a nearby boat booth.
“Hey—you alright, girl?
That was horrible!
Do you have her name?
I’ll let the…” She nervously checked to ensure her now-stained towel was secure before putting on an embarrassed smile and wiping a clump of the smoothie out of her hair.
“N-No—no, I’m fine.
Just a little… heh, a l-little school-girl fun—it’s nothing serious.” She looked up at the man’s doubtful, lifted eyebrow, noting how tightly she was holding onto her towel.
“Mmh…” He was thin but muscular, with light scruff and thick, light-brown hair that curled slightly around his palm-tree hat; his face was chiseled by a master sculptor, and his bronze irises were penetrating with concern.
Shifting to look past the gathering throng, he crossed his arms with a low grunt.
“Humph… She slipped into the crowd.
Do you know her address and name?” Sora put up a hand.
“No—I s-said it’s fine.” Nose twisting with agitation, he eyed her while rubbing the back of his neck, and the crowd started to disperse as they saw him handling the disturbance.
Sora knew he couldn’t do anything, and just wanted to go back to her hotel, take a shower, and cry into the spray.
“Hmm…” He nudged his head back to where he’d come from.
“I work at the little boat stand over there.
We sell a few pieces of clothing; you can take a shirt and shorts.” Sora was about to refuse but stopped at the man’s next statement.
“If you don’t at least take the clothes, I’ll call the police and see what they have to say about an underage girl going around with only a towel on!” She nodded, thankful that he had at least spoken quietly so others wouldn’t hear.
“Thank you…” He clearly wanted to see some kind of punishment come to Lori, and as much as Sora would have loved that—she wasn’t feeling the most secure at the moment—she knew she couldn’t pursue it.
The man’s sympathetic smile and attempts to stick up for her helped her pained heart.
“The name’s Frank, and I don’t think that was a prank, or, humph, ‘school-girl fun.’ Your hair was slaughtered for starters… You know, there are people you can talk to…” Sora shook her head emphatically.
“Really, thank you again, Frank, and I have s-someone that believes me… I think.” “So, it’s not just school-girl fun,” he growled, his hard stare making Sora swiftly retreat, her face sheet-white.
“I don’t like what I just saw, and no one even stepped up… Pathetic.” His tone made Sora quiver a bit; it was as if he’d taken Lori’s action as a personal attack.
“Umm… I’ll take the clothes and pay you back later, b-but I’m fine… I’ll b-be fine… I don’t want to talk about it right now…” she mumbled, gingerly following him back to the booth with multiple people’s eyes on her.
Frank reached into his pocket to extract an old, vintage brass watch with two mechanisms, one sprouting from the other, and opened it to reveal a bizarre, tangled mess of gears that gave the illusion of shifting into infinity.
As she stared at it, it flipped and turned in oddly out-of-sync directions, confusing her.
He scowled as he watched the horizontal, vertical, and slanted gears work and flip around one another.
“It’s not right.
Mmm… adjustments need to be made.” Popping his tongue once against the roof of his mouth in slight agitation, he snapped it shut and stuffed it back into his pocket, but not before she saw a rough, black, chalk-like drawing of a man inside.
Shuffling behind the stand while poking through the merchandise between sizes, he mumbled, “Just know there are people that care about you that can help—no matter what you’re facing.” Sora just chuckled weakly.
“Y-Yeah.” Sora nodded as he produced a red T-shirt with the word Life!
written across the back, featuring a white-outlined heart, and cream shorts that came just above the knee, with a red heart on the left side.
She used the stand as best she could for cover, pulling the baggy shirt on first, then pulling the shorts over the ruined towel and shirt; shockingly, they fit her hips perfectly.
Exiting the booth, towel in hand, she wiped at her hair to remove what she could of the smoothie as Frank stood nearby, looking at his unusual watch again.
“Is… there anyone I can call?” Sora felt tears coming on at how protective he was being, and she could totally see her father doing the same once Mary set all the fake doctor reports straight.
“No… I’m f-fine now.
Thank you—a lot—it m-means a lot.” Frank’s lips pressed together as he scratched at his lower back and pocketed the watch again.
“Huh… If that’s what you want.
Just… don’t ever think that you’re alone.” Thanking him again, she walked back to the fancy hotel she called home, adding a light smile as she passed the barrier gates and entered the main lobby.
Finally, she was away from the cruel world and in her safe little bubble.
Cynthia, a hotel tenant, frowned at her appearance; the woman’s sharp eyes were always watching to make sure she made it back to the hotel, recording the time.
Sora observed her light-brown pigtail disappear into the office, likely to tell a senior staff member about her appearance.
A short sigh left her lungs; Sora waved to the front desk tenants as they called for the private elevator to take her up to the suite her father owned.
She stared at her reflection in the metallic door while waiting: what remained of her hair was matted with blended fruit, but the clothes Frank had given her weren’t a bad fit.
She bit the inside of her cheek as the doors opened, and she entered to direct a feigned grin at Howie.
“Hey, Howie!” “W-What happened?” Howie gasped, looking utterly mortified.
“Your clothes—hair…”