Chapter Three - The Woman in the Window

CHAPTER THREE

The Woman in the Window

MAX WAS ABOUT to answer when something weird happened.

The side window of the taco truck slid open with a creak.
The lights inside flickered.
And in the shadow, Max saw… her.

Not the taco lady.
Not her daughter.
Not anyone Max had ever seen before.

She had glowing eyes.
Not like flashlight-glowing, more like knowing-glowing.
Like she could see straight through your backpack, into your brain, and down to the bottom of your socks.

She leaned forward just enough to speak.

Her voice didn’t echo, but somehow it still felt like it bounced off the sidewalk, the sky, and Max’s spine.

“If you’re sure you want it,” she said,
“you can have it. But it comes with a cost.”

Max blinked.
The taco lady didn’t say a word. She just kept chopping onions like the world wasn’t glitching out right next to her.

Max looked at the ad in his hand.
The Nacho Rocket. Shiny. Glorious. Destiny.

He swallowed.

“I’m sure,” he said.

The woman in the window nodded once.

Then she held out her hand.
It was glowing slightly. Just enough to make you nervous.

Max reached out, and the second his fingers touched hers, a tiny zap of salsa-colored light flashed between them.

Nothing else happened. No thunder. No lightning. No mariachi band.

Just tacos.
Dozens of them.
Spilling out of the tip jar, the salsa bin, and the paper towel dispenser.

Everywhere Max looked… tacos.

He held up his hand and gasped.

His fingers were glowing.