I Want To Get To Know You

I crept through the bank as quietly as I could. I knew nobody was there, but there was such thing as cameras. I walked past a large room and when I looked inside, I almost screamed in delight. There it was: the vault. It contained about Ninety Billion dollars inside. I ran up to it, knowing there were no ''booby traps''. No one in the whole world was stupid enough to try and break into this particular bank. No one except me, Hina Masuko, world's greatest thief. I have never been caught. Ever. And I never will, for that matter.

I placed the laser scanner on the lock and pressed the button on the detonator. With a slight pop the safe swung open. I grinned and stepped inside, hungrily eyeing the money.

I was halfway through filling the tenth bag- probably up to just under a billion dollars- when alarms started going off. I zipped up the bag and bolted through the back entrance. I looked around frantically for my car, but it was nowhere to be found. I saw headlights, and I realized it was a highway. I ran as best as I could towards it while carrying ten really heavy bags of a billion dollars. When I got to the highway I set all the bags down and stuck out my thumb. It was a good thing I planned for this, or else the dozen cop cars would've pulled over and arrested me. Had I worn what Kagarue told me to wear, they would've arrested me. But as they drove by, all they saw was a slightly emo teenage boy wearing a skirt, surrounded by bags. The plus side of wearing a skirt was that it made me feel more comfortable in my masculinity to do something so... vulgar. Repulsive. Gross.

I continued to hold out my thumb, hoping someone- anyone- would stop and pick me up. 'Just please don't be a pervert... or gay.' I couldn't stand gay people. God made a woman to be with man, not another man.

A truck stopped right next to me, and I was in so much shock I hadn't noticed it, I couldn't move. He rolled down his window and I got a good look at him. His hair was messy and dirt brown, and his eyes were the color of lemonade. He had a slight stubble on his chin, and a scar crossing his left eyebrow. He was definitely my age, around mid-twenties. He was clearly taller than me, and when I looked at his hands, clenched on his steering wheel, I saw he was wearing a ring. 'So he's married.' I thought, feeling a strange sense of disappointment flow through me. Wait... WHAT? I don't care if he's married! I couldn't care less! I shook my head. "H-hi... I'm lost, could you please help me?" I asked in my cutest voice. He blinked at me, surprised, and when he spoke it was slow and sweet, like honey. "Absolutely. Mind telling me what happened that gave you the idea it was okay to rob a bank?" He asked gesturing to a slightly unzipped bag that was spilling money. I looked at him in fear. "Y-you're not going to t-tell anyone, a-are you?" I stuttered, absolutely horrified. He laughed and shook his head. "Why d'you think I stopped for you? I'm running from the same thing you are: cops." He pushed a button and it popped open the door behind me, revealing a few full bags. I tossed my findings in with the man's. I then walked around to the passenger side and climbed in, closing the door with a slam when I was inside. He shifted the truck into gear and soon we were off.

A while later, he pulled onto the interstate. A mile or two later, I finally mustered up enough confidence to converse with him. "So... what's your name?" I asked, turning to see he was staring at me. His face turned bright red and he looked away. "Uh... C-carlos. Carlos Jose Fernando. Yours?" "Hina Maskuro." Silence. "Your name sounds Mexican-" I blurted. He laughed. "My parents were both from Puerto Rico. What about you? Your name sounds pretty Japanese, but you look American. What's that about?" I felt my face heat up. "Uh, yeah, my parents were both American, but they went to Japan not too long before I was born and they met a really nice lady that let them stay in her house when all the hotels were full. Her last name was Maskuro, so they changed my name to Maskuro to... I guess pay back the kindness she showed my family. And Hina... I have no idea why they named me that. But they did, I guess." There was more silence as we drove. A minute went by. Then another. And another.

Soon, a whole half hour had been wasted to the silence. I hate the quiet, so I asked: "What made you take all that money?" He stared ahead, face blank. For a second I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. I was about to say it again, when he finally opened his mouth. "Just to say I did it, ya know? Just to say 'hey! Been there, done that,'" he took a deep breath and looked over at me. "But I guess that must be pretty stupid compared to your reason..." I looked down and played with the hem of my skirt. I wasn't about to tell some stranger- I stopped. This wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. This was Carlos. And he was trying to help me. I breathed deeply.

"I need the money to hire a private investigator. A really good one, too. So they can find my sister." There was silence, and then he said, "I'm so sorry." I smacked the dashboard in anger. "Don't be. It's my fault. I'm the one who took her to the store, I'm the one who told her to stay by the fountain, I lost her. It's all my fa-" he slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. He put the truck in park and opened his door. He walked around in front of the truck and over to my side. He opened the door and I punched him on the shoulder, yelling, "Are you crazy?! You could've caused an accident, Carlos! What were you think-" He grabbed my shirtfront with two hands and pulled me- right into a kiss. Yes, he kissed me. Yes, I let it happen. Yes, I hated gay people. But this... felt right. Hot tears flowed from my eyes, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed back. He pulled away and wiped away my tears. "I want to get to know you, Hina Maskuro... the good things about you, not things you blame yourself for. Now," he said, smiling, walking back over to the drivers' side, "let's go find your sister."

So now I'm sitting here, inside Carlos Jose Fernando's old red Chevy, driving down I-32, going to find my sister. Holding his hand.