Criminal Destiny Read Online Free PDF Page A

look. “I hope you knew where we were going before you got on the bus.” Her eyes narrow a little. “How old are you, dear?”
    Whoops. A revised to-do list appears in my mind.
    THINGS TO DO TODAY (ABSOLUTELY PRIORITIZED)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  •    Be careful what you say—and who you say it to!
    â€œSixteen,” I reply airily. “I’m meeting some friends to do research for a school project.”
    Funny. Back in Serenity, they taught us that lying was just about the worst thing you could ever do.
    I wonder how I got so good at it.

3
MALIK BRUDER
    Well, it finally happened. I am one million percent out of Happy Valley.
    The bus depot in Denver has to be the most un-Serenity place on the face of the earth. First off, it’s packed. The entire population of Happy Valley must go by every thirty seconds. And they’re not just going by. They’re moving in about a thousand different directions, bumping into each other, bouncing off, pushing, sidestepping, rushing, arguing, muttering, and cursing under their breath. Everyone is either impatient, or angry, or both. There are a few small kids, and they’re all crying. Announcements are blaring over a PA system, in English and Spanish, I think. It’s impossible to be sure. The speakers are crackling and buzzing, and you can’t make out any of it. Somebody hasspray-painted stuff on the walls, but it’s too messy to read. There’s garbage all over the floor, including right near the garbage can. And the smell! It’s a combination of sweaty laundry, wet newspaper, and a bathroom right before it gets cleaned.
    I love this place.
    So of course, Tori is the polar opposite. “This is horrible ! How do people live like this?”
    â€œNobody lives here,” Eli reminds her. “It’s a bus station.”
    â€œWell, maybe that guy over there,” I add, indicating a ragged man seated against the wall in a huge carton, padded with assorted grimy blankets and pillows.
    Amber emits a little gasp. “He’s homeless! I read about that in USA Today .” She starts toward him.
    Tori pulls her back by her ponytail. “Where are you going?”
    â€œWe have to help him!” she hisses.
    â€œWe can’t even help ourselves!” Eli counters.
    â€œPeople looking out for one another,” she lectures, “is the definition of community—”
    I cut her off. “If you still believe all that Happy Valley brainwashing, you should have stayed there. Look around—do you see any honesty, harmony, and contentment? This isreal life. It’s where we come from that’s fake.”
    The thing about Laska is she never backs down. “Just because Serenity turned out to be evil doesn’t mean the ideas we learned there were all bad.”
    Where do I even start? “The question isn’t whether Serenity’s a good place or a bad place. It’s an un- place, and the lives we lived there weren’t real. We can’t judge here based on there , because there was all fake.”
    Case in point: We’re having this conversation while standing stock-still in the middle of the bus station, with people trying to get around us, over us, under us, and through us.
    â€œOut of my way, kids. I’ve got a bus to catch!”
    â€œLousy tourists!”
    â€œYou got legs inside those jeans?”
    â€œSorry,” I mutter, and drag the others out of the way.
    We exit the depot not so much by walking as by allowing ourselves to stumble along with the current of the crowd.
    Outside, there’s more room, but also more chaos to fill it. The sidewalks are teeming with pedestrians. Vehicles whiz by on the streets. Skyscrapers soar all around us. What do you look at first? Faces? Cars? Signs? Stores? The sounds provide as much variety as the sights—sirens, honking horns, squealing brakes, blaring stereos,leaf blowers, jackhammers, excited