This week we are writing from the perspective of the girl beneath the arrow in the picture below.
The task was supposed to be a simple one. Slip the transmitter into Mai Lin’s purse and get out. Only I wasn’t a cool super spy. In fact, I wasn’t a cool or super anything. First gum, and now pigeon poop. If the shwop of my sticky shoe didn’t alert her, my smell would. I pursed my lips and leaned in, failure wasn’t an option. My heart thumped against my ribs as the crowd pressed and jostled me. She didn’t even turn, just laughed at someone’s bad joke. For once I was grateful for my uncanny ability to be invisible.