Made of steel (made of s.., p.23
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       Made of Steel (Made of Steel Series Book 1), p.23

           Ivy Smoak
 

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday

  The first thing I should have done after seeing Miles was call Mr. Crawford. Those were my instructions if I recognized anyone from my past. I couldn't make myself do it though. I was so tired of moving. It finally felt like I was adjusting. I had done what Mr. Crawford had wanted. I even had people I could lean on. I turned my head toward Kins. She was definitely sound asleep. She was even snoring lightly.

  It wasn't just Kins I could rely on, though. It was Eli. Thinking about him made my heart race. He was caring and kind and certainly deserved better than me. But I was done beating myself up. Yes, I had to lie every now and then, but it still felt like he was getting to know me. He actually listened. It even seemed like he heard more than what I said. He didn't press me for details because he could sense my restraint. He respected me. He respected my body. I needed that in my life. I couldn't leave now.

  Besides, I was still angry with Mr. Crawford. I knew in my heart that he had done everything he could to keep Don in prison. But it still stung that he had failed. He shouldn't have promised me if he hadn't meant it. It almost felt like he had tricked me in to telling him everything that had happened over the years I had lived with Don. I felt betrayed. I didn't want to hear Mr. Crawford's voice. I didn't want him to tell me to take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on my face.

  Maybe I was lying to myself, though. Maybe it was more than just my new friends or my new trust issues with Mr. Crawford. Miles played a role despite how much I wanted to deny it. Seeing Miles had been upsetting, yes. But it was also good to know he was okay. He was alive. He looked healthy. He looked good. I shook my head and sat up in my bed.

  What did it even matter? I saw him once at the diner. I'd never see him again. He certainly wasn't a threat to my identity. He seemed to believe me when I said I wasn't Summer. If he didn't seek me out when I needed him all those years ago, he certainly wasn't going to seek me out now. I was almost positive he wasn't lying awake thinking about the awkward girl he ran into at the diner. It was over. He could remain in the past.

  So why can't I sleep? I thought about the money sitting in my bank account. It didn't seem possible. My parents weren't rich. I wasn't rich. For some reason, I still thought the money from the robbery had ended up in my account. My imagination was running wild.

  I climbed out of bed and opened up my laptop. My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they typed in Miles Young into Google. A few Facebook profiles came up but nothing else. None of them were my Miles. My Miles? I rolled my eyes at myself. He was never mine. I was just too naive and blind to see it back then. It wasn't like this was the first time I had checked. I had tried to find him. But he had made it impossible for me to succeed. It was for the best. Stalking Miles wasn't going to make me feel better about what happened between us. Miles Young was an asshole. I didn't need to know any more than that.

  I shook my head and deleted his name from the search bar. Maybe I could make good use of my new insomnia. Because there was actually someone who I needed to stalk. I typed in "New York City vigilante" and pressed search. There were dozens of articles. I clicked on the first one. They made him out to be a hero. The second article made him out to be a criminal. They questioned where the money had gone. During the bank robbers' interrogation, they both swore they didn't know where the money had gone. That was normal, though. Of course they wouldn't tell the cops where they had stashed the money. It didn't mean that the vigilante had taken it. That was a ridiculous assumption.

  The best picture of him was of his back facing the camera. He was wearing tight fitting sweatpants and black Converse high-tops. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie that hugged the muscles in his arms. I had seen enough superhero movies to know that he was probably insanely ripped underneath those clothes. But superheroes didn't exist in real life. He didn't even really look like one. He looked like he had just left the gym. Maybe he was just in the right place at the right time.

  I zoomed in on the picture. It was like he was actively trying to hide his face. Almost like he knew where the cameras were. I clicked on another image. His face was turned more toward the camera in this one, but it was blacked out. He was definitely wearing a mask too. So how different was he than a criminal, really if he was also hiding behind a mask? Maybe he was at the bank that day to rob it himself and got beat to the punch. But the more I stared, the more I realized that wasn't true. He had saved someone's life. He was good. His clothes were tight and it didn't look like he was carrying any weapons. If we was planning on pulling a bank job, you'd think he'd bring a gun.

  I read through dozens more of the articles until I stumbled upon some local blog called The Night Watch. It talked about how over the last few days, hundreds of people who were being evicted from their apartments suddenly had their rent paid for the next few months. "It's a miracle," one lady was quoted saying. "Whoever paid this for us saved us from going to the homeless shelter at the end of the month. Me and my boys had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to."

  And it didn't stop there. Hospital bills had been paid off. Child support had suddenly appeared. The article ended with the quote, "Someone in this city is watching us." It sent a chill down my spine.

 
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