Ferris slid into the crowd gathered in Hood River’s town square. He didn’t doubt that he was being followed, but he hoped to be less visible in such a big crowd. He appreciated the clothing that Rafe had found for him and the way Rafe had cut his hair—he was more nondescript this way and blended more easily with norms.
He yearned to be invisible, and he was closer to it because of Rafe. He tried to walk with the confidence Rafe showed, taking that man as his model of human behavior. Shades clung to the shadows, they slouched, they hunkered down in the hope that they would be overlooked. Ferris tried to walk as if he belonged, as if he was a norm and didn’t care who knew it.
It worked pretty well.
At least as far as he could tell.
He was achingly aware of his palm and the deception prog
