The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

had had enough. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Anymore looks from the stuck-ups in here and I’m going to thump someone - and it might just be you if you don’t cheer up!”
    Polo managed a smile.
    “Good, get your coat. Let’s go back to mine and have Earth-based ice-cream - I’ve got Baz & Jeremy’s!”
    Her cousin grinned from ear to ear.
     
    Muhaze city centre was beginning to get busy. Saturday morning shoppers were creating a throng of noise and movement that, when combined with the ongoing repair works from the latest Froome Skirmish (No. 2.3), made a veritable cacophony of noise. Shouts and cries merged with the metal clip and thrash of the mutant-labourer’s hammer and drill. Vehicle engine stutter and spit followed the screech of tires upwards into the Muhazian skyscrapers, only to be lost on the disinterested universe, as it heedlessly sped away towards infinity. Such industry. Such desire to create and build. Such a feverish race against the discordant metronome of time.
     
    Polo slipped her hand into Mikita’s pocket. Mikita held it and looked at her. She’d be a very feminine boy, if she were one, she thought. The oval face, the long lashes, the dimples...
    Polo was about the same height as Mikita, although slimmer and flatter up front. Not that Mikita was curvy by any stretch, but she was more womanly in body type. Then again, she didn't dress in boiler suits or androgynous , baggy clothes.
    Mikita wore quirky, unusual items: odd jewellery, bullet belts, clothes personalised with appliquéd political slogans, leather boots with studs and shiny metallic detail - items that said: ‘I’m different, leave me the shizz alone.” Polo’s attire self-consciously screamed: ‘Look! I’m wacky, I’m fun!’ w hich she was, most of the time.
    Today, though, she was a complete nut-job.
     
    Arriving back at her flat, Mikita and Polo paused as they approached her front door.
    It was open. 
    Mikita gave Polo a look, shushing her with a finger to her lips.
    Quietly, they entered the flat together.
    Once inside, Mikita could hear light tapping noises coming from the kitchen. She motioned to Polo to keep still as she made her way down the hall.
    The noises continued. Fingers on keys, thought Mikita.
    As she approached the kitchen door, she realised that whoever was in her house was on her Serene. Then she remembered she’d left it out on the tabletop before she’d gone to Gretchi’s.
    The tapping stopped.
    Mikita could hear footsteps. The intruder was getting up and walking to the kitchen door. She slammed her back hard up against the wall, but it was too late.
    “Mikita! You’re back?”
    It was Hanoi!
    “Han oi? “But how did you -? What are you doing in my flat?”
    “Oh, I was just passing and thought I’d drop by,” he replied, smiling that smile. “Your door was open and… well, I just came right on in.”
    “But how could my door be open?” I’m sure I locked it.
    “I don’t know, don’t ask me… Oh, hi, Polo, didn’t see you there.”
    It was like the argument had never happened. Him giving her the key - her leaving it behind – the message. Mikita looked to Polo for help, but her cousin simply looked back blankly, saying nothing.
    “Well, OK, whatever,” said Mikita. “But what were you doing in the kitchen, with my Serene?”
    Hanoi looked irreproachable. “In there? Nothing. I was just putting it away for you. I saw it out on the table and, well, the kitchen was in quite a state too, so I tidied everything up. Here. Take a look.”
    Mikita put her head round the kitchen door.
    The kitchen was spotless.
    “Oh! Right.” She looked at Polo and shrugged her shoulders. Polo gave her a withering stare. “That was very kind of you, Hanoi, thanks. But, didn’t you get the -”
    “It was no problem, Miki. M y pleasure,” said Hanoi, with a servile nod of his head. “Well, look, ladies. I can see you’ve got something planned, so I’ll head down to the Balmaha Centre and