1. Sienna

"Good afternoon!" I call out, waving to a man standing on the corner, a smile on my face. "May I have a moment of your time?"

"Fuck off," he drawls, taking a deep hit of his vape before ambling off.

I puff my cheeks, letting out a slow breath. I guess I should have expected that.

Walking down the street, I spot another potential participant. A lanky man is standing outside of the local Quik-Mart and I stop, smoothing my hands down my skirt. "Hello! Do you think I could have just a moment of your time?" I ask.

"What the hell you want?" the man asks. He's got a buzz cut and a scorpion tattoo around his neck, and his eyes narrow as I step closer. "You some kind of religious freak?"

He scans me up and down and my smile falls under the scrutiny. I can see how he might think that. My outfit probably doesn't help his impression—I've got on a white turtleneck under a plaid jumper and tights, and I'm holding a clipboard.

"Actually, I'm here to do some research for a study that's being conducted on this community!" I say, my mouth curving back up into a smile. "Would you mind if I interviewed you? It would only take five minutes."

He rolls his eyes before shaking his head. "Sorry. I ain't got time to help you with your school project, kid."

"It's not a school project," I protest, my voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's important research into urban health."

The man ignores me before taking off, getting into a low-rider that pulls up to the curb in front of us.

I stare down at my clipboard, biting my lip. Why won't anyone talk to me? If I could just get one person to agree to an interview, I know I can get the ball rolling from there.

Stepping into the fluorescent-lit corner store, I approach the worn-out cash register where a woman with greasy black hair and dark circles is manning the counter with a dead look in her eyes.

"Hello," I say, mustering up the courage to speak to her. "My name is Sienna Bennett. I'm a researcher working on a project about urban resilience. Do you have a few minutes for a short interview?"

The woman stares at me, almost as though staring right through me. "I'm from Beaumont Falls," I say, referring to a small town a few hours" drive away. "I know what it's like to grow up in a neighborhood like this. I just want to help make things better. If I could just get five minutes of your time …"

"I ain't interested," the woman says, finally looking at me. Her cheeks are sunken and she looks as though she hasn't had a hot shower in days. "Besides, you don't got permission from the Blades."

I blink, trying to understand her. "I'm sorry. Who?"

"The Blades, girly. Crimson Blades? They run this place. Nothing happens without their say-so. You want anyone round here to help you, you gotta get their go-ahead first."

My brain tries to catch up. "Are they like … a gang or something?"

"You deaf or some shit? The Crimson Blades aren't a gang. Told you, they're the leaders of this town."

"Well, who are they? Can you point them out? If I could just talk to them, maybe they can help me get my research going," I plead.

She shakes her head, glancing out the window from the corner of her eye. "Sorry, can't help you."

I knew going into this project that I was going to face some resistance. Growing up in a town similar to Caspian Springs, I realize that community members can be a little fearful of, or hostile to outsiders, but I didn't realize that it would take so much work to get even one person to agree.

"I'm just going to grab a soda then," I tell her. She shrugs and I head to the cooler in the back, spotting a curly-haired little boy playing in the chip aisle. I smile at him before grabbing a Coke and heading back to the front to pay.

As I'm walking outside with my soda, a little boy follows me. "Hey!" he calls out. "Hey, Miss!"

I turn, the boy giving me a gap-toothed grin. "Can you buy me a bag of Takis?" he asks.

That gets a laugh out of me. "How about this? You give me a little bit of your time, answer a couple of questions for my research project, and I'll buy you the chips," I offer.

"Deal," he holds his hand out and I take it, shaking it firmly. Turning around, I head back inside as he trails behind me and picks out the bag of chips.

We head outside once again, into the afternoon sun and he walks me down the street to a small lot with a couple of picnic tables and a rusty jungle gym. It would be generous to call this place a park.

We sit down at one of the picnic tables together.

"So what do you wanna ask me then, Miss?" the boy asks, pulling the bag open and stuffing a chip into his mouth.

"Can you tell me your name?" I ask, flipping the first page over on my clipboard to jot it down.

"I'm Beau Brant. I'm eight years old and I go to Caspian Springs Elementary," he recites, around his mouthful of food.

"Thank you, Beau."

He shrugs and licks salty seasoning off his fingers.

"My name is Sienna Bennett," I tell him. "I was hired to work for Dr. Richard Thornton. He's a psychologist and researcher over at Watford University. Dr. Thornton is trying to study people who live in towns like these, to understand what it's like for them. He does it by interviewing them and getting their stories."

"Are you a doctor too?" he asks, tilting his head.

I chuckle. "No, not yet. I'm just a lowly research assistant. He has a bunch of people like me going around to some of the towns nearby, to talk to people. You're the first person today who's let me talk to them for more than five minutes."

"Probably cuz the Crimson Blades don't like outsiders," he says.

"I see. Who are the Crimson Blades?" I ask, trying to get more info out of him. "Can they help me with my project?"

"They're like, the bosses," Beau informs me. "They tell people what to do and stuff."

"And what happens if someone doesn't do what they say?"

Beau shrugs. "I don't know."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. "Well, they aren't here and you can see that they aren't saying that you can't talk to me, right?"

His eyes dart around for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay. What are the questions?"

I scan down the list. These are just pre-qualifiers—questions to see if people fit the parameters of our study. "What grade are you in?" I ask, choosing from the second column of questions.

Beau starts answering the questions I have and I write down what he says, checking off the criteria that he fits.

"Thank you so much for your help," I tell him as soon as we're done. "If you'd be interested in participating, and your parent or guardian will allow it, I can pay you if you are willing to sit down for a longer interview." I start reading off our disclaimer. "Your participation is not mandatory. Your name will be anonymous, along with identifying information you give me."

"What's anonymous?" Beau asks.

"Means we'll keep your identity private," I tell him, looking up at him again with a smile. "If people read Dr. Thornton's book that he's going to write with the information, they won't be able to find you."

He pouts. "So I won't be famous?"

That gets a laugh out of me. "Nope, sorry," I apologize. "But you'll help other doctors like Dr. Thornton, who can show his research to politicians and lawmakers and use it to make improvements to communities like this one."

His eyes light up. "What kind of improvements?"

"Better education, maybe, and better community help. Lots of things. And maybe one day I'll be one of those doctors," I add. "I don't get to work directly with Dr. Thornton yet, but I hope that if I do a good job I'll get to study under him."

Beau nods. "You're still gonna have to get permission from the Blades," he tells me. "But yeah, if they're okay with it, I'll do another interview."

"Great!" I grab my bag and pull out my wallet. "Here's my card. If you have any questions or anything, that's my phone number. You or your parents can reach out any time."

He pockets it. "See ya." Slipping off the picnic bench, he takes off down the road and I glance back over the info he'd given me.

At least this was a step in the right direction. I'd spent all day here and Beau was the only interview I'd gotten. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon and I figured that was my cue to head back to my crappy motel room and work on compiling these notes.

The only cars in the parking lot when I return are a rusty pickup and a Charger. I double-check to make sure no one has been following me before unlocking my room and heading inside.

Just as I get my laptop set up though, my stomach gives a rumble. I haven't eaten since breakfast and walked around the neighborhood all day. There's a diner on the far side of the motel, so I figure I can grab a quick bite before returning to work.

The diner, bathed in a warm glow, hums with the low murmur of conversation between a few truckers and the clinking of cutlery against ceramic plates. A cranky, old waitress approaches, silently ushering me over to a slightly sticky table.

"Can I just get the burger," I ask. She rolls her eyes before leaving to put in my order.

There's a commotion at the door and I glance over, spotting three men walking inside. Their gazes sweep the place before landing on me.

My eyes widen and I watch them stride towards me. The one in front has striking blue eyes and a steely look that makes my stomach flip. The two flanking him look as though they could be his brothers, with the same sharp, chiseled jawlines and the same sloping nose.

They walk with confidence, taking up all the space around them as they move.

The three men stop at my table, standing over me. The one in front, ostensibly their leader, leans in. "I don't know what you think you're doing here, Princess," he drawls. "But this is our neighborhood."

These must be the Crimson Blades everyone was talking about. "I'm here to do work," I tell them. "That's all."

His eyes bore into mine. "We don't know who you are, or what you want," he growls, his voice laced with warning. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll leave."

A nervous gulp catches in my throat as their imposing figures loom over me, thick tension in the air.

End of preview.