Again, But Better

Braveheart
!” he yells enthusiastically.
“Scotland it is, then! That’s where Hogwarts is.”
“Oh, did you go there?” he asks in a serious voice.
“Class of ’08.” I force down a smile.
“Me too.”
I put on my best Scottish accent, “So, you’re a wizard, Pilot?” It’s terrible. Pilot snorts.
Up ahead, Chad and Babe descend into the Metro station. We start down the steps a moment
later and make our way to the platform. The station is packed. Everyone’s trying to catch the last
train. We linger on the grungy platform for twenty minutes before an announcement is made to tell
us the last train has already left the station.
Wearily, the four of us join a mass exodus back up to the street. On the left side of the staircase,
there’s still a steady flow of people going down into the station despite its lack of trains. On the
right side, we’re all packed together streamlining our way up. The four of us are slightly separated,
a human or two between us. I’m in the middle of the pack.
We’re nearing ground level again. I can see the sky up ahead, but as I take my next step, there’s
a tug on my cross-body purse and the strap yanks down on my right shoulder. The pull intensifies,
and the strap slides up against my neck. I stumble back and turn my head in alarm. There’s a man,
heading down the stairs, his hand is in my now-unzipped bag. My chest seizes. 
What do I do?
He’s
being pulled away with the downstream current of humans, and I’m being yanked backward.
“Ahhh!” a yell bursts from my lungs as I lunge upward and to my right, hopping over three
steps, ripping my bag away from him.
“Shane?” I hear Pilot shout back.
“What’s going on?” Babe asks.
“I think she just tripped,” Chad’s voice hits my ears.
I flail over my feet, fumbling upward, pushing off the ground with my hands to regain my
balance like a child running up the stairs. I grasp at my purse, pulling it up to my chest, and run up
the remaining steps, pushing my way past everyone, not stopping till I’ve broken away from the
mob and I’m back on the sidewalk outside.
I’m shaking as my hands pry the sides of my purse open, taking stock. I unzip the second pocket
where my wallet is and exhale a relieved breath. It’s here.
It’s okay.
A hand falls on my shoulder, and I look up to see Pilot’s olive eyes. I breathe breathe
breathe breathe, pumping the fear out of my system.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Babe appears in front of me with Chad next to her.
“What happened?” Babe cries.
“A guy.” 
Breathe.
“Had his hand in my purse.” I look frantically from Pilot to Babe.
“What the fuck?” Pilot’s concern morphs to outrage. He takes a step back, runs a hand through
his hair. Chad looks at me blankly, and Babe’s hand whips up to cover her mouth.
“He had his hand in it and he was pulling me back down, and I lunged away and his hand fell
away ’cause he was going down the stairs. And I—it’s okay, he didn’t get anything,” I babble softly.

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“Oh Mylanta,” Babe whispers. “We have to get a cab. Let’s get back. Come on.” She shoots me
a sympathetic look, turning toward a cab stand in the distance. Chad follows, and I fall into step
robotically. I focus on trying to quell the panic circuiting through my veins. Pilot’s hand is on my
back again.

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