Xiao

Xiao made it twelve steps from his mother's noodle kiosk before someone stole dinner.

A gray hoodie flashed past him.

The paper bag vanished from his hand.

“Hey!”

The thief ducked between two pedestrians and accelerated.

Xiao caught a glimpse of her face.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

She looked back.

Grinned.

Kept running.

Xiao ran after her.

His mother's kiosk disappeared behind a wall of lunchtime traffic. The girl slipped between a produce cart and a repair stall. Xiao went around the cart, over a crate, and nearly through a man carrying six cups of something bright green.

“Sorry!”

“You will be!”

The girl glanced back again.

Still smiling.

That annoyed him more than the theft.

The noodles weren't even hers.

Every afternoon, his mother made the same order for the same woman. Hand-pulled noodles, vegetables, broth packed separately. Xiao carried them three blocks at almost exactly the same time.

Today should have taken six minutes.

The girl hooked left into a service corridor.

Xiao followed.

She was fast.

He was faster.

Almost.

She vaulted a stack of empty delivery bins.

The noodle bag hit one.

She caught it.

Hit another.

Lost it.

The bag bounced once and skidded across the pavement.

Xiao dove.

His fingers closed around the handles.

“Yes.”

He stood.

A horn exploded behind him.

Xiao turned.

An autonomous transport was coming straight at him.

Its front suspension dropped as emergency braking engaged. Tires screamed. Warning lights strobed across its windshield.

Xiao jumped backward.

The transport stopped less than a meter away.

For one very long second, he stared through the windshield at an empty driver's seat.

“Thanks.”

Xiao looked down.

His hands were empty.

The girl was already running.

“You!”

She disappeared around the corner.

Xiao went after her.

Again.

This time he didn't bother avoiding people politely.

“Move!”

Someone swore at him.

A vendor snatched a tray out of his path.

Xiao cleared a bench, landed badly, recovered, and saw the gray hoodie ahead.

She looked over her shoulder.

The bag was leaking.

Good.

He hoped it leaked on her.

He gained ground through a crowded pedestrian passage and reached for the back of her hoodie.

She dodged.

Xiao missed.

They both hit the NAA officer.

The officer barely moved.

Xiao bounced off him.

The girl didn't get that far.

One of the officer's hands caught her shoulder. The other caught Xiao by the front of his shirt.

For the first time since the kiosk, nobody was running.

The officer looked at the girl.

Then Xiao.

Then the dripping paper bag.

“What happened?”

“He stole my food,” she said.

Xiao stared at her.

“WHAT?”

She held up the bag as evidence.

“He's been chasing me.”

“Because you stole it!”

“It belongs to my grandmother.”

“It belongs to my mother!”

The officer looked at Xiao.

Then at her.

Then back at Xiao.

Xiao suddenly became aware that he was breathing hard, covered in dust, and pointing aggressively at a girl holding a bag of noodles.

She looked considerably more innocent.

The officer released her.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

He took the bag from her.

Xiao smiled.

Finally.

The officer handed it back to her.

Xiao's smile disappeared.

She gave him the smallest possible grin.

Then ran.

Xiao lunged.

The officer caught him again.

“Let me go!”

“Enough.”

“She stole my mother's food!”

The officer's comm sounded.

A voice cut through the passage noise.

“Units requested. Two deceased. Public restroom, lower transit level.”

The officer stopped.

Something changed in his face.

“Repeat?”

“Two deceased. Male and female. Lower transit restroom.”

His grip on Xiao loosened.

“Go home.”

Xiao was already running.

But not after her.

Not anymore.

He knew where she was going.

So did she.

That was her mistake.

Xiao cut across the next street and disappeared through an open shop.

“Xiao!”

“Sorry!”

He ducked beneath a hanging rack, squeezed between two customers, and went through the back.

A service corridor.

Left.

Up three steps.

Across a loading platform.

Right.

Another corridor.

A narrow door.

Stairs.

He took them two at a time.

Then stopped.

Silence.

Xiao sat on the top step.

And waited.

Twenty seconds later, the door at the bottom crashed open.

The gray hoodie flew through.

She slammed the door behind her and pressed her face against its little window.

Nobody.

She smiled.

Turned around.

Looked up.

Xiao waved.

“Hi.”

She froze.

For several seconds neither of them moved.

Then she pulled back her hood.

Xiao tried to stay angry.

He really did.

She started laughing.

That ended it.

“You almost got me arrested.”

“You almost got yourself run over.”

“You stole the noodles.”

“You were late.”

“I was not late.”

“You were yesterday.”

“By two minutes.”

“Grandma noticed.”

Xiao pointed at the bag.

It had survived considerably less well than either of them. One corner was crushed. Broth dripped steadily onto the floor.

“You destroyed her dinner.”

She looked at it.

“You dropped it.”

“You stole it.”

“You chased me.”

“Because you stole it!”

A lock clicked behind Xiao.

They both turned.

The apartment door opened.

An elderly woman looked at Xiao.

Then at her granddaughter.

Then at the dripping bag.

Nobody spoke.

Her eyes settled on Xiao.

“You're late.”

Xiao pointed at the girl.

“It was her fault.”

She pointed at Xiao.

“It was his fault.”

The woman took the bag from her granddaughter.

She looked inside.

A noodle hung over one edge.

“There better still be noodles in this.”

She walked back into the apartment.

Xiao and the girl stood in the hallway.

She bumped his shoulder with hers.

“Tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Same time?”

“No.”

She grinned and went inside.

Xiao waited three seconds.

Then followed her.