![]() CHAPTER ONE ![]() Being daughter to the head lawyer in a law firm possessed solely by Scrooge McDuck certainly didn't hurt Tegwen's rosy opinion of the place, and as she walked home from school, allowing the temperate air to dry her perspiration from a hard workout in gym, she recounted just how good life was. Her mother had asked if she'd wanted a ride home in their newer Duxus but she'd declined. She loved being out in the surprisingly fresh air of an old city. Besides, she knew she'd be sweaty after practice and didn't want to stink up the family's nice car. Cars passed by Tegwen on her walk home and she caught more than a few lecherous stares of the men behind their steering wheels. She smiled sweetly at a few and waved her fingertips at them, wondering if today would be the day she caused a multi-car pileup. I know I'm not that pretty, she laughed at herself. Still, it would be flattering. Sad, very awful, of course, but flattering! At an intersection, Tegwen waited patiently for the light to change so she could cross. Home was less than a half mile away. When the crossing indicator blinked white, Tegwen checked carefully for cars turning in front of her -- a holdover from early childhood -- and stepped into the street, splashing down into a puddle of mud. It had rained the night before and some places had yet to dry. Normally, the sight of mud could make Tegwen smile. But this particular puddle had just laid assault to her newest possessions. "My new running shoes!" She cried. They were brand names, and her parents had shelled out a pretty penny on them. She hurried across the intersection and paused on the opposite corner to assess the damage. They would dry and probably be okay in the long run, but Tegwen couldn't help but feel that her mother would kill her. She'd been having such a good day and didn't want to screw that up. Having her mother yell at her would certainly accomplish that so she did the only thing she could think of: she pulled her old sandals from her backpack and switched shoes, putting the sneakers into an old plastic bag she used to cover her backpack on rainy days. And suddenly she wanted to run the rest of the way home. She could get there in no time, but wearing sandals would make everything much harder. Hunger pangs reminded her that it was nearing dinnertime and provided fuel to ignore her feet protesting a half-mile run in sandals. ![]() go back | return to table of contents | continue
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