chilly skin. Driving into Angel City was an immediate mood lifter. I took a deep breath as I felt the tension in my shoulders recede.
Jake chuckled. “You love this place.”
“Don’t you?” Angel City was the normal side, the side with the good people.
“It’s not home to me like it is to you,” she added with a shrug. “I don’t feel any different about either side.”
That was true. Jake was from New Orleans, and after moving here, she’d only ever known devil City as home. She loved the rain and gloomy days, whereas I was dying for a sunny day at the beach.
The bus stopped in front of the Awakening Center, and Jake and I disembarked. My hands clung to my messenger bag tightly, as we crossed the busy downtown street, and made our way to the line of teenagers walking into the open double doors.
