Crux Read Online Free

suspicion and curiosity dueled in my mind. In my new stretch jeans, black hoodie, and boots, I stuff the bag in my backpack and head out the door. My car-less situation is a pain, but I’m taking my time to find the perfect ride.
    The descending sun glows orange in the western sky, defiant against the darkness that arrives earlier with each passing day. A cab brings me to the bank right before it closes. After asking the driver to wait, I climb from the vehicle and race up the stairs to the triple doors.
    High ceilings, gleaming wood floors, with gold and cream furniture, the bank is decorated like The Ritz in Central Park—I’d seen a picture in a dog-eared magazine once at the health department. I square my shoulders, trying to appear like I belong as I walk to the desk.
    A short, African-American woman in a navy suit eases her glasses down the bridge of her nose as I approach. Her badge says Ms. Blackburn. “Can I help you?” I can tell by her tone she doubts her own question.
    I realize I’m hunching and straighten again. “Yes.” My voice cracks, and I cough into my fist. “Yes, I need to get to my safe deposit box? Please.”
    “We close in fifteen minutes. Will you be able to complete your business in that time?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I answer, not at all sure that is true.
    A finger repositions her glasses. “Walk this way.”
    I don’t want to walk her way . She waddles more than walks and strangles me in the wake of stinky perfume. Sure I’d kill less brain cells sniffing glue. I fight the urge to stick a gum wrapper from my purse in her bad weave. She’d never feel it; I’m sure. Okay, I know I’m being immature and petty. There’s a pretty big chip on my shoulder, but I’m tired of being treated like a bug, and I’m disappointed my new clothes aren’t quite enough to transform me.
    She leads me to a small room sectioned off by what looks like little closets with burgundy shower curtain dividers. “Which box please?”
    I offer her the paper with the numbers on it in silence, worried my voice will squeak again if I answer.
    Ms. Blackburn snatches the note from my fingers. Her pickled expression intimidates the snot out of me. She glances at the list of numbers and motions to a wall that’s covered with what looks like post office boxes. “Key?” She speaks as if she thinks I’m mentally challenged.
    I lift my chin. My mouth opens to tell her off, but Miss Snarky Pants is faster.
    “Watch me. Insert your key as I do.”
    My inner voice warns I’ll catch more flies with honey. Just hush, Bird. Get whatever’s inside, and go.
    Fine.
    I press my lips together and put my key in the slot. We turn in unison, and she pulls the drawer out, placing it on a table inside one of the closets. She frowns at her watch. “Eleven minutes.”
    “No problemo.” After she exits, I pull the curtain closed.
    My steps are tentative as I approach the box. Well, Jeff, more surprises?
    What’s waiting inside?
    You never know. Could be something good again, Bird.
    Or the punch line, the other shoe dropping?
    I’m used to bait and switch, expect it even. For years, I’ve promised myself not to get my hopes up. That way they don’t have far to fall.
    My hair swings forward like a screen around my face as I lift the lid. Inside, a red velvet pouch waits in a lump at the bottom. I flip the bag over and dump the contents into my palm. An ornate pendant with a central stone patterned to look like a jagged piece of ice is held in place by silver animal fangs.
    As I examine the necklace, the icy rock glows florescent green, like kryptonite from a Superman movie. I raise my hand, awestruck by its beauty. I think the gem will feel cold, but it’s hot—more than hot—it burns.
    Crap.
    Green light turns white; the shien emanates from my palm and grows brighter. I try to drop the jewel, but it won’t release. Pain sears my skin, and a silent cry rips from my throat. Blinding light breaks from veined cracks in the