Home

Chase raced down the hall, darting between shoppers. The security guard running after him was persistent. He was going to return the game after he cleared it, so it’s not like the store was going to lose anything.

He sharply bent a corner and slipped into a hidden pocket in the wall, with a large potted plant to hide him from view. The mall had several of these little spaces. Chase had spent the last week learning about these hidden crevices as he made the mall his home. He adjusted the skateboard in his backpack and moved the game to one of the front pockets. He waited a few moments just to be sure the guard was long gone.

Sneaking out of his hiding space, he made eye contact with the security guard. The boy turned around to run again but bumped into a woman who now had a firm grip on his arm. He didn’t recognise her and had no idea why she held on to him. The boy fought to break free of her grip, but to no avail.

When the guard caught up to them, he immediately tried to grab Chase. But the woman pushed him away and demanded to know why he was chasingher son.

“This brat just robbed the Coliseum.” The guard exclaimed, half out of breath.

The woman turned to Chase, and in a stern, motherly tone, she inquired, “Didn’t your father give you spending money?”

Chase’s eyes darted between the woman and the guard. He still had no idea who the woman was or what she wanted. But she was helping him. “It wasn’t enough.” He answered as meekly as he could muster. The woman sighed in annoyance, then pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from her purse and handed it to the guard. “Keep the change.” She said, walking off, dragging the boy with her.

The guard raised his cap and scratched his head as he watched the two walk off. As they walked, Chase kept glancing back at the guard. Deciding they were far away enough that he could make a break for it, the boy tried to pull his hand free. However, the woman still held onto him firmly. Did she really mistake him for her son?

She marched him to the cafeteria and insisted he order something to eat and drink. Finally, they sat down to eat, and the woman revealed why she had helped him.

“I need you to be my son for a week.”

So she didn’t mistake me for her son.Chase stopped sipping his slushy and studied the woman. From the look of her jewellery, she wasn’t an average woman, and she had tossed a hundred at the guard like it was a dime. He had also caught a glimpse of her purse when she paid for his meal; there were a few more in there. Despite it being midday, she didn’t seem to be in a rush. And from the paleness of her skin, he concluded she didn’t step in the sun often.

“What’s in it for me?” he finally asked.

“You’ll have a place to stay and food to eat for a week.”

Chase thought about the woman’s offer. He was running low on money, and it would be nice to have a bed to sleep in for a while. The boy rubbed his fingers together. The woman took an annoyed breath. “If you do a good job, you’ll get a payout at the end.”

Despite looking like another snobbish rich woman, her eyes didn’t look down at him. She had paid for his game and meal.A rich woman who wants to play house. She could just adopt a random kid.

“Why not adopt one?”

“Things are,” she paused, tapping a pristinely manicured nail on the table, “complicated.”

“Talk or no deal.”

“I can always find that security guard and let him know I had the wrong kid.”

“Or I can scream for help right now and say you’ve kidnapped me.”

“Touché.” The woman said, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair. “Due to anunexpectedbusiness development, my husband and I need a child for a week. If I go through official channels, I can’t just borrow one and return them when I’m done.”

“Why pick me?” Chase asked.

“You’re sharp and resourceful for a runaway.”

The boy nodded knowingly. “You have to be to survive.”

“Do we have a deal?” She asked impatiently.

As the boy considered the woman’s offer, his mind raced for answers. How did she know he was a runaway? Did she stalk him before approaching him? After deliberating, the boy finally agreed. “Sure. I’m Chase.”

The woman eyed him carefully. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

Chase shrugged at the woman playfully.

“Since you’re using a made-up name,” she said, gathering her purse and standing up, “you won’t have a problem if I give you a new one. From now on, your name is Adam, and you will address me as ‘mom’ or ‘mother’.”