Tracers Read Online Free PDF Page A

playlist). Because he had clearly
more
than crossed her mind as well.
    Cam ran his hands over the glossy new paint, smiling at the fact that the bike was
his.
    He took off like a shot out of the front entrance of Lafayette Messenger. He flew into the stream of traffic heading across Canal—all the faces he passed were a blur again. Just the way it should be. The sun was warm on his skin and the city looked a lot less dingy and gray now that he was back up to speed.
    He made his first run, but didn’t hurry back to Lonnie and captivity. He rode toward the park to try out his new Sugino. It was a top-of-the line bike—a fixed gear.
    Someone had done her homework. He tried to make himself stop grinning. His mom always used to say, “All things are relative.” Compared to the day he’d had yesterday, today was a freaking dream come true.
    Cam rode up the handrails on the steps in the park, scared some tourists, then left the park and rode as fast as he could down Broadway, weaving in and out of the sea of cars, cabs, and buses.
    The day was growing hot, but he didn’t feel it when he was going full speed. Cam raced back up one of the paths, into the park, where a bunch of kids practicing their moves caught his attention. All of a sudden it seemed like he was surrounded by something he’d never even noticed before—parkour. He stopped to watch. Cam knew from his web surfing that they were kong-vaulting off the big rocks at the edge of the park.
    He remembered the steps he’d read about: you run toward whatever the obstacle is, dive over it with your palms flat on the surface, push off, legs up, land, then keep running and repeat with the next object in your way.
    He sat transfixed, watching them practice. The city was doing some kind of construction on the old park amphitheater. The parkour kids were making use of the big piles of concrete blocks. This was as good a spot as any for lunch. He pulled out the sandwich he’d picked up on his way out of work and ate slowly, watching the kids try out some more moves. By the time he balled up his wrapper and tossed it into the trash, they’d packed it in for the day. He stood, ready to head back, but then a new kid caught his attention, jumping over a huge stack of lumber and taking off at a run, up onto the stage.
    â€œHey!” he called, without thinking.
    It was her. Same hoodie. Same brown hair flying. It was definitely his mystery girl.
    She turned, losing her balance in the process, teetering for a few seconds before recovering and rolling backward to land on her feet.
    She met his eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds.
    And then she took off at a run, up the stairs and out of sight.
    For the second time in two days, the girl had up and run off without a word. It was a pretty annoying habit, actually.
    He didn’t think, just got back on his bike and started pedaling in the direction she’d disappeared.
    He’d thought he’d never see her again, but now that she’d bought him the bike—
and
he’d run into her accidentally in a city of eight million people—there was no way he was letting her go without a chase. He slid down the stone steps at the side of the park, then caught sight of her crossing the street. Cam followed. At least two cars honked at him as he wove quickly through traffic.
    A long, flat truck with a mechanical arm was parked on the street. The arm was partially extended. He kept watching the girl as she jumped on some poor person’s car, leapt onto the flat part of the truck, did that run-up-the-side trick (tic-tac, his brain reminded him) along the metal arm, and then vaulted into the bucket.
    He slid to a stop at the base of the truck.
    She’d cornered herself, for some reason.
    She pulled her headphones out, carefully. He watched her wrap them in a loop and stash them in a zippered pocket on the side of her sweatshirt. Cam had noticed they were Beats—nice