Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 12 | Página 156

Plus the best part; zhen zhu nai cha, or bubble tea. The milky goodness merges so well with the chewy tapioca pearls.
It’s mouthwatering.
I see Foster-Mom giving me a quizzical look.
“Excuse my manners,” my face turns red. “I just love Chinese food.”
That seems to satisfy her. “Let’s go outside and take a walk.”
“In the dark? If you say so.”
We pay the bill and stroll outside. The cool air caresses my skin and I close my eyes for a second. For a second I get
deja-vu, and I remember my old self again--
A press of a button, one final goodbye.
The rewinding of age, the shifting of minds.
“Death himself has been cheated--of me.” I snicker to my comrades, fading rapidly from view.
“Du! Are you alright?”
“Yeah--just a little woozy--” I mutter under my breath and I pick myself up and dust myself off.
“You just suddenly collapsed! I-I--I can’t breathe--omigosh I was so worried about you-”
Foster-Mom actually cares about me.
That brings a direct pang to my heart. I haven’t let anyone love me as their family member since my parents died.
And it hurts me even more to betray her.
“Listen… Mom.”
Calling her Mom gets her attention.
“Can I go use the bathroom?”
Her face falls, and she answers, “Of course, honey. Don’t get lost. It's just past the restaurant, then left into an
alleyway--”
“I know… Mom,”
I dart off, footsteps quick like a fox. I glance at my watch and mentally curse myself. I’m going to be late!
I shove past ladies with bags in arms, baby carriages, and men with newspapers. Dirty looks shoot my way as I scuffle
past the droves of people.
I catch a glimpse of the restaurant and with agility, lunge into the alleyway without anyone noticing.
“Where are they?” I murmur aloud.