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full of desperate signs and black windows. The same everywhere, over and over, not like the unique shops her mother frequented – full of handmade things and loud music that Amy couldn't understand, but still danced to while waiting outside the fitting rooms. Even the trees were different: thin and bristly and spiky-looking, not like the broad, shady ones planted in sidewalks. She was very, very far from home. And she had no idea where they were headed.
      "Are you hungry?"
      Amy turned to Javier. "Not really." Your granny did make a pretty big meal, after all . "But thank you for asking."
      "Seriously? I'm starving. Jail-breaking is hungry work."
      "Do you do a lot of jail-breaking?"
      "Define 'a lot'."
      For some reason, Amy had assumed that this kind of bragging was confined to organics, and ended with boyhood. Men of this size, be they flesh or mech, weren't supposed to get dimples in their faces while hinting at their exploits. Then again, she hadn't met that many vN models. Maybe Javier's had add-ons for charm.
      "I'm not used to eating very much."
      Javier peered at her from the corner of his eye. "You're a dieter, huh?"
      "I was. But a little while ago, I…"
      "Fell off the wagon?"
      She tucked her hands under her legs. "Something like that."
      "Sweet." Javier licked his lips. He turned off into a tiny little strip mall full of For Lease signs. "Then I guess it's time to go shopping."
      "What?"
      He parked in front of a thrift store. LEAVE DONATIONS HERE read a sign in one wall-sized window. A giant arrow pointed downward at bulging black garbage sacks. Javier jumped out of the car and hurried over to one. He started ripping it open. He looked over his shoulder. "What's your shoe size?"
      Amy looked at her new, grown-up feet. "I… I don't know…"
      "Well, come on and find out!" He threw a pair of pink flipflop sandals at the car.
      Slowly, Amy left the car. She scoped the parking lot. Arc lights cast a dull orange glow over the whole place. Earthquakes had left dark lightning patterns in the concrete façade of each dead shop. Black mould grew there, now. She heard wind in the pines. It was the loneliest place she'd ever been.
      "Isn't this stealing?" Amy asked.
      Javier was wriggling into a giant black T-shirt, faded grey now, with a picture of an old video game controller on it. BLOW ME, it read in peeling white letters. "No way," he said. "People donated this stuff already, right? They don't care."
      Reluctantly, Amy started picking through the garbage bag. After a few tries, she found a Sesame Street T-shirt with the Count on it. The brand made her feel instantly at home, as though the little yellow and green street sign could act like a talisman and keep her safe with its promise of cheery songs and word games. "Found one," she said, holding it up.
      Javier's brows lifted. "That's a kid's T-shirt."
      "So?"
      "Gonna be tight, is all I'm saying."
      Amy looked down at herself. Maybe he was right. Still, it couldn't hurt to try. "Um, where do I try it on?"
      Javier gestured at the parking lot. He was already pulling at the legs of his jumpsuit. Amy quickly covered her eyes, reached blindly, and ran around the side of the building, trailing old clothes behind her. She pressed herself up against one shadowed wall, near a door marked LOADING. She threw on the clothes as quickly as possible. She'd found track pants, the shiny kind with all the buttons up each leg, and without underwear they felt a little weird. But there was no way she was digging through somebody else's underwear and putting it on. None. Synthetic or not, some things were just disgusting.
      Amy emerged from the shadows still wearing her prison slippers. They fit, and she had no desire to wear somebody else's socks or shoes. Her new pants made a slippery sound as she walked. Javier had retrieved an enormous pair of shorts – she couldn't tell if they were for swimming or