The Girl and The Raven by Pauline Gruber

storefront windows and people watch.
    The light turns green and the walk sign clicks on. I step off the curb to cross LaSalle Street when a car comes barreling toward me, its tires screeching to a halt within a foot of my legs. A blood-curdling scream erupts from my throat. I lurch backward to escape the car’s bumper and stumble. The air whooshes from my lungs as my butt slams against the pavement.
    A blonde man rushes over to me. “Are you okay?”
    Several more people appear and hover over me.
    “Let me through!” A man in a navy suit with salt and pepper hair elbows his way through the small crowd. He kneels beside me, his eyes wide as he yanks at his tie. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”
    “What the hell?” The blonde man yells at him. “Don’t you watch where you’re going? She had the walk sign! You blew the damn light!”
    I push myself off the ground, gritting my teeth against the pain radiating from my tailbone. Several horns blare at once—we’re holding up traffic. Everyone is talking at once and I can’t make out what any one person is saying.
    “Do you need an ambulance?” the blonde man asks. I flinch as he touches my arm.
    “No…I’m fine,” I say, but he’s already turned away to debate with two others what actually happened.
    The driver of the death mobile leans in close. “I’m so sorry about this. What’s your name?”
    I frown, taking a step back from him. “Lucy Walker. What’s yours?”
    His eyes bulge and chords stand out on his neck. I wonder if he’s going into shock. “W…what?” He chokes. “I’m sorry. My name is Pierce Douglas. Here.” He pulls a business card from his wallet and hands it to me. His hand is trembling. Why’s he so rattled? I’m the one who was nearly run over. I shove his card into my purse.
    Mr. Douglas glances from his car to the stoplight, scratching his cheek. He turns back to me, his expression clouded. “Lucy, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? I will take you. Please let me take you.”
    “No, thank you. I have a meeting with an attorney that I need to get to.”
    “Attorney?” Mr. Douglas’ voice raises an octave. “You’re getting an attorney involved? I asked if you needed to go to the hospital. I can take you. I’ll pay for it.”
    “What?” I’m unable to hear him over the angry horns. “You really need to get your car out of the street.”
    He turns from me, moving quickly to his car and climbs inside.
    I go to check my map, but it’s no longer in my hand. I search the street for my scrap of paper. It’s gone. Panic starts to bubble inside of me as I try to figure out which way to go. I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I was walking east when Mr. Douglas almost hit me. The building should only be a block or two away.
    I leave the crowd. The pain in my tailbone makes it impossible to rush. I confirm with a woman at the corner which way is east and continue on my way. Two blocks more, through people and cars and a broken sidewalk which I tripped on jolting my tailbone again, and I have just about decided to turn back when I see the tall glass building Sheldon described just ahead on my right.
    Ten minutes later I enter the law firm’s office on the twelfth floor. Harris, Klein and Tortorich is spelled out in large silver block letters high on the wall. The reception area is fancy with glass tables and expensive artwork. Attorneys move past me purposefully. I’m the only teenager here and I feel totally out of place.
    After giving my name to the woman behind the desk, I walk over to the floor to ceiling windows and look out over Chicago’s famous skyline and further out, Lake Michigan. It’s an incredible view full of skyscrapers. Just last week Sheldon told me Chicago has the tallest skyline in the nation and the third tallest building in the world. All at once I feel dizzy. I turn away from the window just in time to see Henry Klein, decked out in a dark gray suit and an emerald