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  Up above there was a loud crack, and suddenly the sky was illuminated by a thousand white sparks. Everyone in the yard reacted in some way. Oohing or ahhing or laughing.

  "Pretty!" Crazy Cathy yelled, jumping up and down and clapping. "Pretty stars!"

  Ariana's heart, already pounding, started to hammer in her chest.

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  Still, she managed to move slowly so as not to arouse the attention of any of the guards. Slowly, slowly, slowly, Ariana wound her way toward the table she and Kaitlynn shared every day at lunch. Her palms were slick with sweat. She wrinkled her nose and surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans. Sweat was so unladylike. But then, Ariana was about to get very, very unladylike.

  On the other side of the fence, Rambo was going insane--petrified of the fireworks. It seemed that Meloni had decided to work late, as he so often did. Ariana pursed her lips. This was going to make things more difficult. Luckily, however, she had planned for this possibility.

  Another explosion lit the sky. This one red, then orange, then yellow. Ariana watched the upturned faces of the inmates as they shifted from color to color. Her heart was pin-balling now, trying to slam its way out through her rib cage. Miriam stood not twenty yards away, chatting with another guard. Even as they gossiped, their eyes scanned the faces of the inmates. They were on their game tonight. Too on.

  This is never going to work.It has to work.

  This is never going to work.

  It has to work. There is no other way.

  Ariana's hands trembled. She saw Miriam's gaze start to slide in her direction, and looked up at the sky just as a resounding boom brought a shower of purple and white sparks. In that moment she held her breath, certain that Miriam had read something on her face. That Miriam and her partner were on their way over to her right then and

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  there. But when she slowly brought her eyes down again, the guards had gone back to their gabfest.

  It was now or never.

  Ariana took a sideways step toward the bushes. Crazy Cathy bounced and clapped. Rambo barked and growled. The sky exploded overhead, so loud that even Miriam jumped and looked up. Ariana seized her moment and dove into the bushes. Her knees hit the hard ground and she fell onto her stomach, slithering into a large hole that had been dug under the chain-link fence. Scrabbling like a rat, she dug her nails into the dirt and clawed her way forward.

  Almost instantly, the sharp, rusted bottom edge of the chain link caught on the back of her crappy blue shirt. Ariana paused. The hole was not as deep as she had hoped. Could she shimmy back out and try to gouge out some of the dirt with her hands? As she hesitated, more explosions sounded overhead. Behind them, Ariana heard shouts. Her pulse screeched to a terrifying stop.

  Were they coming after her? Had someone seen?

  Lying there, chest to the dirt, Ariana started to panic. Her thoughts raced. Her vision prickled over with tiny black dots. They had seen. They had seen. They were all converging on her. Someone was about to grab her ankles and drag her back and--

  No. She couldn't let it happen. She was not going back to that cell.

  The very thought was enough to bring Ariana back to the task at hand. Her vision cleared. She took a deep breath, held it, and planted her face in the earth. Dug her fingers into the dirt on the other side of

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  the fence, the side where she would be free, and pulled herself forward with all her might. Her legs flailed behind her, pushing her forward. Ariana sucked in her stomach and willed herself to become as skinny as she could possibly be, but still the sharp, rusted edge of the chain link tore through her shirt and pierced her skin. She dragged herself forward, crying out in pain--a cry masked by the fireworks--as the metal cut a long, jagged tear in her back. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she had to keep going. The next shove freed her from the fence, but she could feel a warm trickle of blood running down her side into the ground.

  I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding....

  It doesn't matter. Shut up. You have to move. Just move!

  The ditch was already sloping upward on the other side. Ariana arched her back, wincing at a new stab of pain, and pulled herself up. She looked back at the fence. Most of her torso was free. One last push and she'd be out. She could practically taste freedom. Taking a deep breath and grunting along with the next firework explosion, Ariana used every ounce of strength in her arms to pull herself up. The lace on her sneaker caught on the fence, and she yanked her foot with all her might. There was one last tear, and then she was free.

  Chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths, Ariana dropped onto her back on the dirt, not even caring that she was exposing her cut to the ground. Overhead a red firework filled the night sky, followed quickly by a white, then a blue.

  Ariana smiled. She was free. Finally, finally free.

  That was when she felt Rambo's hot breath on her face.

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  Ariana flipped over and bolted up to a seated position, then immediately realized her mistake. Rambo took her sudden movement as a sign of aggression and lunged for her. Biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming, Ariana hurtled backwards and, by the grace of God, Rambo's running leash caught. She was mere inches outside his attack zone. But now he was barking like the angry, trained attack dog he was. His teeth were huge and sharp and dripping with saliva. Ariana could practically feel them piercing her skin, his strong jaw bearing down on her bones. Still, he was not nearly as scary as the fate that would befall her if someone came to check out his fit.

  If they came, it would be all over. If they came, she was done. And Meloni's dog would have been the one to catch her. That was not going to happen.

  Quickly, Ariana reached into her bra and peeled out the three slices of roast beef that had been fermenting there since lunch. Her nose wrinkled. So, so gross. But the moment she held them out to Rambo, he fell silent, sat down, and cocked his head with interest.

  So, so worth it.

  "There you go. Good boy... ," Ariana said, inching forward. She held the first bit out to him, but he didn't move. Meloni had trained his dog well, the bastard. "Go ahead, Rambo. It's for you."

  He raised his snout and swallowed the slice with one gulp. Ariana slowly lifted herself off her knees and stood up. Rambo watched the roast beef. Blood dripped down Ariana's back into the waistband of her jeans. She used her free hand to hold what was left of her tattered

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  shirt against the cut. The pain was excruciating, but she could deal with that later.

  "That's right, puppy," Ariana said in a soothing voice. "I'm the one who's been tossing this stuff to you at lunchtime."

  She held out another bit and the dog smacked it up happily, then licked her hand.

  "You're welcome," she said affectionately, patting his head. "And thank you for digging for it and digging me out. I promise you I won't forget it. But for right now, I have to go."

  Rambo tilted his head the other way, his ears turning in the breeze as more explosions crackled overhead. He looked at Ariana almost as if he understood what she was saying. That this was good-bye. For some strange reason Ariana's eyes filled with tears.

  "Don't worry. I'll be seeing you again," she said.

  Then she tossed the last piece of meat on the ground in front of him and ran like hell for the lake.

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  FEELING LUCKY

  There were two cars in the driveway, but the cabin was dark. The owners were probably out on one of the many pontoon boats on the lake, hanging out after the fireworks. Ariana crouched on the private dock and quickly unwound the rope that held the tiny metal skiff in place. The little boat was probably some kid's first vessel, and she felt a slight pang at depriving him of it, but hopefully it would be returned. Besides, it was for a good cause. She liked to think the young boy would have approved of the intrigue that was going to surround his boat's fate. With a shove, she sent the skiff into the lake and watched for a moment to ensure that the
wind would do its job and carry it toward the deeper water. Then she quickly turned and ran to a cabin two houses over. She paused for a moment, said a quick prayer, and turned the knob of the front door. Unlocked. Yes. Just as she had hoped. These vacation homes on the lake were all owned by happy-go-lucky, upper-middle-class families who trusted their neighbors.60

  Well, trust was for suckers.

  Ariana slipped inside, crossed the sunken living room, and took the wide wooden stairs two at a time. She found the master bedroom at the end of the hallway and flicked on the light in the master bath.

  Her reflection was a horror show. Hair knotted and matted with dirt. Brown streaks all over her face. Nails broken and lined with black muck. There was a cut over her right eyebrow and her shirt was torn to shreds. Not knowing how long she might have, Ariana peeled her clothes off. What little cash she had saved up over the past year and a half in prison--money she'd earned by selling off the food and magazines her mother had sent her--fell out of her underwear, where she'd hidden it. Ariana reverently placed the bills on the side of the sink. She could not lose that money. It was all she had.

  She jumped in the shower and winced when the hot water hit her cut. She contorted herself in every direction trying to get the soap in and around the fresh wound. It stung so much she wanted to cry all over again, but she bit the urge back. Ariana had always prided herself on being tough after everything she had gone through with her family and Thomas, but she had never had to endure actual physical pain. This was new, but she could handle it. The last thing she needed was an infection. Hospitals were not an option.

  Wrapping a towel around herself, Ariana raced back into the bedroom and shoved open the closet door. Her nose wrinkled. L.L. Bean, all the way. But still. There had to be something here she could work with. She grabbed an old, faded yellow Patagonia backpack off the floor, balled up her prison garb, and shoved it into the bottom.

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  She then dug to the back of the closet, hoping to find some clothes that were no longer favorites and therefore might not be missed. She selected a pair of cargo khakis and a white T-shirt, which she shoved in the bag as well, then added an Orioles baseball cap and a light blue sweater. She lost the towel and pulled her sweaty underpants and roast-beefy bra back on--she was not about to wear another woman's underwear--then yanked out a plain white V-neck sweater and a pair of jeans. The sweater fit fine, but the jeans were two sizes too big, so she cinched them with a leather belt she found hanging on a hook by the door, then shoved her feet into a pair of hiking boots a size too small.

  "Huge ass, small feet. Fab." Ariana giggled to herself. Beggars couldn't be choosers. She couldn't have been happier to have been wearing the freak show's B-list outdoorsy outfit.

  Back in the bathroom, Ariana stole a hairbrush, an unopened tube of lip balm, and a bar of soap, just in case. Satisfied that she had everything she actually needed to hold her over until she reached her destination, she shouldered the backpack and raced downstairs. Halfway across the living room, she heard voices on the front porch. Ariana froze, her heart hurtling into her throat.

  A man laughed. Two kids were babbling on about the fireworks. She could see their shadows playing outside the front windows. Ariana whirled around and spotted the kitchen through an open doorway.

  Back door. Please let there be a back door.She stumbled on her way across the threshold, slammed her hip into a wooden chair at the kitchen table, and grasped for the door

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  handle just as the front door opened. Ever so quietly, Ariana slipped out into the warm night air, letting the door click closed behind her. For the second time that night, she ran for her life.

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, Ariana stood in front of a bored, elderly teller who sat behind the window at the Arlington, Virginia, bus station. Her hair hidden under the Orioles baseball cap, Ariana was surprised at how calm she felt. But then, she had covered her bases. By now, Kaitlynn had to have found the note. By now, no one would be looking for her. At least not this far out of the facility.

  "Help you?" the man said, barely lifting his eyes from his horse racing form.

  "One ticket to Dallas, please," Ariana said, sliding the cash into the dip below the window. The dip that reminded her suddenly of the ditch Rambo had dug for her. The thought made her smile.

  "What're you so happy about?" the man asked, not unkindly. He slid her ticket and change over to her.

  "Nothing," she said, the smile widening. "You should bet the six horse."

  For the first time his heavy eyelids raised a fraction of a centimeter.

  "Yeah? Why's that?"

  Ariana placed her ticket in the inside pocket of her backpack along with what was left of her money. Right next to the box of auburn hair dye she had purchased at the drugstore down the street.

  "It's my lucky number," she replied.

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  She checked the schedule on the screen behind the man's head and saw that she would have just enough time to dye her hair before her bus began to board.

  "Oh?" he asked, glancing down at the sheet again. "You feeling lucky today?"

  "Very," Ariana said with a nod. "Trust me. It can't lose."

  The man raised his bushy white eyebrows and circled the six horse on his racing form. Ariana turned and headed off for the private handicapped bathroom with a bit of swagger in her step. She had just done her good deed for the day.

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  SNAP DECISIONS

  "Those colors really suit you," the perky blond Chanel cosmetics clerk said, grinning from ear to ear.It was Friday morning and Ariana was staring at her reflection in the magnifying mirror that sat atop the gleaming glass counter at the Dallas Neiman Marcus. The gray shadows and black mascara that the girl had expertly applied really made her blue eyes pop. After looking at her eyes sans liner and mascara and only in mottled mirrors for more than a year, Ariana had forgotten how gorgeous they could be. The auburn hair was, of course, throwing her off, but the clerk had swept it back in a headband, and if Ariana tilted the mirror just so, she didn't have to look at it. Then she could see only herself.

  And she looked beautiful.

  Not bad for a girl who had just spent hours and hours on a Greyhound bus trying in vain to sleep as the loudmouthed man across the aisle gabbed on his cell phone. Unable to get a single moment of

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  peace, Ariana had occupied herself with daydreams of what her life would be like now that she was on the outside. After securing her financial future, she would go back to Virginia and get Kaitlynn out of the Brenda T. Then the two of them would flee to Australia and lie low for a while before building a dream home near the water and living their lives as beach bums. It meant giving up the original dream--the Princeton, New York, Vanity Fair dream--the thought of which made her heart ache. But at least she and Kaitlynn would be together. At least they would be free.

  Once she had the whole plan solidified in her mind, the jerk with the phone had finally passed out in his seat, but it had been too late for Ariana to sleep. The bus had pulled into the station ten minutes later, and Ariana had trudged into the Texas sunshine feeling exhausted and cranky. But with each passing moment under the soft lights of Neiman Marcus, surrounded by all the opulence and luxury, she was growing more and more comfortable and calm.

  This was the moment she had been longing for all those months. The moment she began to feel herself again.

  "Well? What do we think? Should I wrap it all up for you?"

  According to her name tag, the clerk's name was Kelsi, which totally fit her annoyingly in-your-face demeanor. But Ariana had chosen her for a reason. The eager ones were always the most gullible.

  Ariana looked down at all the tiny black lacquer compacts and tubes the girl had assembled before her. What she wouldn't have given to just whip out her old Neiman's credit card and buy the whole lot. But that wasn't an option. Instead, she was going to have to play the

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  g
ame. She leaned forward to avoid a group of gabbing girls her age, all laden down with packages. Still, one of them managed to whack Ariana in the back with the corner of one of her bags. She winced as her cut burned.

  "I'm just not sure," Ariana said with a sigh. "I don't know if I'm ready to change my entire color palette."

  "Oh, well, you don't have to change everything," the girl said quickly, brightly. "Sometimes a new gloss and a blusher do just the trick!"

  "I don't know. I have to think about it. I've never been good at snap decisions."

  Ariana pushed herself up off the cushy leather stool she had been sitting on for the past half hour. She knew that the girl didn't want to lose her sale. All that time she had spent making over Ariana would have been wasted if Ariana walked away with nothing. The desperation was evident in the girl's eyes as Ariana shouldered her backpack.

  "Thanks for your time," Ariana said.

  "Wait!" the girl hissed as Ariana turned to go. "I can give you a few free samples."

  Ariana smiled to herself, but when she turned to face the girl, she was all interest.

  "Really?"

  Kelsi checked over her shoulder to make sure that none of her colleagues were listening in. They were all busy with other clients. Kelsi stepped out from behind the counter in her black smock. Ariana's eyes instantly flicked to her shoes. Black sling-back Michael Kors knockoffs. It figured.

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  "If you're not so good at snap decisions, maybe you'd like to try a few of these things out on your own," the girl whispered. "Then, once you're convinced, you can come back and purchase whatever you like. Just ask for me."

  Ariana pretended to be relieved. "That would be perfect."

  "You promise you'll be back?" Kelsi asked.

  "I promise," Ariana said solemnly.

  "Then I know I'll see you again!" the girl said brightly. "You have a very honest face!"

  As Ariana hid a smile, Kelsi walked back behind the counter and opened a small paper Neiman Marcus bag, into which she deposited the samples she had used for Ariana's makeover--a trial-size mascara, a tiny compact of powder, a pot of cream blush, and a small lip gloss. She handed the package over to Ariana like a spy passing off some secret documentation.