“Something like that.” Emma looks at me and smirks. I feel stupid, like some kind of naïve kid.

“So do you work for him?” I can’t picture her as one of the femme fatales from the movies. She’s too young, obviously, but also too friendly. “Is this the part where a black car drives up and I get shoved in and held for ransom or something?”

“I’d probably choose someone who wasn’t picking pockets if I was going to try to get some kind of ransom money,” she says with a little smirk. “No, I don’t work for my brother. I’m nothing like him. Don’t even talk to him, really. Besides, the last thing I want is someone telling me what I can or can’t do. Especially if that someone is as stupid as my brother.”

I smile, genuinely. I can kind of get where she’s coming from.

“Besides,” she adds. “He thinks I’m too young and that he doesn’t want me involved.” She lets out a long sigh between bites of her snack. Her mouth is half full when she speaks again. “So where are you from?”

“Why are you talking to me?” I ask, ignoring her question. She looks a little confused. “I mean, why did you come talk to me on the beach?”

“I wanted an arepa.”

“Sure.”

“Okay. I saw you around and knew what you were doing. I figured you could use a few pointers. I thought maybe you’d be my new beach buddy. I’m tired of working alone.”

“Working?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, grins and then pulls a black leather billfold from her pocket. The first wallet I stole—the one I carry my cash around in now. My hand reaches to my back pocket and confirms what I already know. Somehow she’s managed to snag my wallet. I never felt a thing.

“Not everyone’s as easy a mark as you,” she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I could use a hand if you’re up to it.”

“You want me to steal wallets for you?”

“With me.”

I hesitate. Walking around and talking to Emma is one thing, but I can practically hear Rey yelling at me and telling me not to get close or make friends with anyone but him. But she’s obviously not a Mog.

“Come on,” she says, sensing my reluctance. “Look, I don’t know where you’re from but it’s obvious you’re not as familiar with this place as you should be if you were about to shell out six bucks for some street food, even if it was delicious. Let’s meet up again and get into some trouble. I’m so bored this summer. That’s why I came and found you.”

Her last words stand out to me. She sought me out, came and found me on the beach. The least I can do is consider hanging out with her a little more.

“Sure,” I say.

Her face lights up a little.

“Great.” She pulls out her cell phone and grimaces at the screen. “Shit, I gotta go. What’s your number?”

“I don’t have one,” I say, a little sheepish.

“What do you mean you—” she starts. Then her face falls a little. “Well, meet me on the beach tomorrow. Same place I found you today. I’ll be down in the afternoon.”

I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

She flashes one more smile and tosses my wallet to me. I fumble with it, uncoordinated. By the time I have it back in my pocket, she’s halfway to the street, disappearing into the throng of tourists.

Holy shit, I think. Did I just make a friend?

The realization that I’m not sure because I’ve never had a friend in my life other than Rey is crushing. How am I supposed to save a planet overrun with a warmongering species if I can’t even figure out how to interact with other people?

My thoughts flash to the other Garde. What if I don’t get along with them?

CHAPTER SEVEN

INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR EMMA IN THE SPOT where she snuck up on me yesterday, I stay half a beach away, loitering between some bathrooms and a thick line of plants. That way I’ll be able to see if she shows up with a Mog brigade or something—though I don’t really think she’s going to. I’m just trying to be cautious.

And I don’t want her to catch me by surprise again.

Emma appears early in the afternoon. She looks around for me before shrugging and sitting underneath the palm tree where she found me. She waits for a while—twenty minutes maybe—as I try to talk myself into walking over.

It’s weird how nervous I feel. This is just so foreign to me, meeting up with someone. Talking to someone new at all. I feel awkward.

When she stands up and looks like she’s going to leave, I grit my teeth and head her way.

“Hey!” she says with a grin when she catches sight of me. “I thought you were going to stand me up.”

“Sorry,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I, uh, lost track of time.”

“No problem. It’s nice out today. Let’s hang out here for a while.”

And so we sit and chat. Or, mostly she talks, and I respond to questions as vaguely as I can—or with outright lies. Where am I from? Around. Where do I live? Not far from the beach. What about my parents or family? They’re here and there. They travel a lot. I’m left to my own devices. I pick a pocket or two on occasion because I think it’s fun.

Emma doesn’t press me about anything, which almost makes me feel bad for all the lies I tell her—that I’ve got a home to go to at night and a loving family somewhere. She’s easy to talk to in a way that Rey never was. Mostly because she talks a lot about herself, and everything she says is new to me. Sometimes she slips into Spanish and it sounds so pretty that I don’t even point out to her that I can’t understand her.