Chapter 1

Brian approached the intersection on foot. The light had changed to red so he paced near the crosswalk. From down the block approached a figure, jogging. She wore gray sweatpants, a black hooded sweatshirt, baseball cap and dark glasses.

He watched as she slowed her gait, glanced right to check for traffic and headed for the curb. Brian lunged for her, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back. The two of them toppled to the sidewalk.

The girl shrieked. "Let go of me!" she yelled and slapped his face. At the same moment came the roar and whoosh of air and diesel fumes as the number 47 bus roared past on the outbound leg of its route. The girl stood and looked down at him, her mouth agape. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "You probably saved my life. And I hit you! Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

She extended her hand and helped him to his feet. He felt the side of his face and worked his jaw. "All teeth accounted for and nothing dislocated," he replied.

Her lip quivered and she trembled. Tears rolled down her face from under her dark glasses. "I was almost road-kill," she muttered. "Where did that bus come from? I thought Nye Boulevard was one-way."

"It is," Brian replied, "except for these five blocks. In order to get the bus route to work, they carved out a single, bus- only lane going outbound. Didn't you see the sign?" He pointed to a sign near the cross walk that read, Look Left for Bus.

"No -- I saw the sign that says, No Right Turn. "She trembled again. "I've never had this close of a brush with death before."

"The Coffee Spot is just up the street. Let's go in there. I'll buy us coffee and you can sit and get over the shakes."

"That sounds like a good idea," she replied. "But, I'll do the buying."

He walked with her toward the coffee shop. "You must be new in town," he said. "All us natives know that about Nye Boulevard."

"I've been here two weeks," she replied.

"Are you a student?"

"Yeah -- first year law school."

"Law school ... Good..."

"Are you a student?" she asked.

"No -- I work for the University. I'm a systems analyst with the I.T. department. The name's Brian ... Brian Albert."

"I'm Debra ... Debra Walling."

They reached the coffee shop and stood in line. "If I have coffee on an empty stomach it'll make me wired," she said. "Are those chocolate chip cookies in the case?"

"Yes. This place is known for their giant cookies."

"I'll need something to soak up the coffee but one of those is too much. Would you split one with me?"

"Sure."

They reached the counter. "Regular, black, no sugar," Brian said to the barrista.

"Regular, extra cream, no sugar," Debra added, "and one of those chocolate chip cookies."

"I'll bring it right out," came the reply from behind the counter. Debra fetched a five-dollar bill from her pocket and took her change.

"You're pretty trusting," he said as he headed for a vacant table. "You didn't count your change."

"I did -- I can tell by how the coins feel what they are. Two quarters, a nickel and three pennies."

She sat across from him and their server brought the order. Debra sipped her coffee. "Feeling better?" Brian asked.

"Yes -- my heart is back under a hundred a minute." She broke the cookie in half and offered Brian his pick. He picked up the smaller half.

Debra pulled back her hood but left on the baseball cap. She unzipped her sweatshirt and patted her chest near her collarbone. "Coffee's making me hot already ... Brian -- I am so, so sorry I struck you."

"It's forgotten," he replied. "If I were a pretty girl like you and someone accosted me ... I'd probably do the same."

Debra looked down and turned from him. He caught a glimpse of her shoulder-length ponytail, pulled through her cap's vent. It was the lightest blond he had seen -- almost pure white. He studied her face. Strands of her hair that fell in front of her ears were the same light, light blond. Her skin was pale and clear, and she had blue traces of veins near her temples. Her glasses covered her eyebrows, but what he could see was also nearly white.

"Brian -- you keep staring at me," she remarked.

He looked down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Out of the corner of his eye he watched her sip coffee. Her lips were pale pink. "Debra ... I don't mean to be forward but ... Are you by any chance an albino?"

She pursed her lips, drew in a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Brian. I am an albino."

His eyes grew wide. "Cool!" he exclaimed.

"Not cool," she retorted. "I would give anything to be rid of this ... condition."

"But it looks so good on you -- makes you striking. What's wrong with your condition?"

She sighed again. "Haven't you ever seen an albino before?"

Brian shook his head. "Not up close ... not to talk to."

"Well ... aside from the fact I'll get sunburn from standing too near a light bulb, and that I'm many times more likely to get skin cancer ... and the stigma..."

"Stigma?"

"I was teased mercilessly in school," she replied. "If I walk the street I know people are stopping and staring. People still regard us as an aberration ... something unlucky or evil ... like a black cat, I guess."

"I don't." He shook his head. "I can't imagine anyone thinking that."

"The evil albino is popular villain in books and movies. There was one in DaVinci Code."

"I guess I've never run across it," he said.

"I'm sure you know the jokes about blondes..."

"I've heard some," he replied."

"I guess I'd be considered uberblonde. On top of all that is my eyesight."

"What about it?"

"It's rotten. I'm legally blind without corrective lenses ... horribly near-sighted, and no better than 20-80 or so with them. Bright light is almost painful. You're not a member of my club if you don't have vision problems."

"Take your glasses off -- I want to see your eyes."

"I'd rather not."

"Are they pink?"

"They're blue," she said. Then she sighed again and pulled her glasses down. "See?" She pushed them back onto the bridge of her nose.

He nodded. "Pretty, pale blue. I thought albinos had pink eyes."

"If I were a rat, maybe. They do look pink under the right conditions, but it's because I have no pigment on my retina."

"Like red-eye from a flash."

"Yeah ... like that. So that's why I don't think my ... condition is cool in the least."

"I think it makes you neat and special," he said. "How's the cookie?"

"Very good." She pressed her hand against her chest again.

"Are you all right?"

"I think I'm over the bus incident and it flashes on me again."

"You're all right, Debra."

She drained her coffee cup and pressed her hand against her stomach. "This feels good. It was a good idea."

"Thanks for buying."

"It was the least I could do. I really should offer you something else for your pain and suffering..."

"That's the lawyer in you talking," he replied. "I don't need or want anything."

Brian pulled a dollar bill from his wallet and left it on the table as a tip. He walked with her to the street. She zipped her sweatshirt and pulled the hood over her head. "Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Bookstore."

"I'm headed for my office. It's in the same direction. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Not at all."

"Debra..."

"What?"

"The campus film club is showing Andrei Rublev tonight. It's a film I've always wanted to see but I hate going alone. How would you like to come with me? It's free."

"You know -- it's been years since anyone asked me to go to a movie."

"With your..." He pointed his fingers toward his eyes.

"Movies aren't a problem ... not any worse than my real-life distance vision."

"Then ... will you..."

"Sure. Why not?"

"I can pick you up -- I have a car. Where do you live?"

"Kaycee and I share a bungalow... 325 Orchard."

"Is Kaycee another law student?"

"Yes. What time?"

"It starts at seven ... how about six-thirty?"

"I'll see you then."

"Here's the bookstore."

She turned and headed for the door and gave him a little wave.

Brian headed for the university administration building. He walked past his boss's cubicle. "Brian," he heard his boss call.

"Yes, Bob?"

"You're late -- you missed the staff meeting."

"I'm sorry, Bob -- I have an excuse."

"What's the excuse this time? The dog eat your alarm clock?"

"I saved a life."

"CPR?" Bob asked.

"No -- I saved a girl from getting splatted by the number 47 on Nye. She was going across at Clifford and I pulled her back."

"Another failure-to-look-left? We lose a couple students each year to that."

"She almost was one of them..." He regarded his boss, standing with his arms folded. "I'm not making this up, Bob. I have her name -- Debra..." He looked toward the ceiling. "What was her last name ... Wallis ... no Walling. She's a new law student ... and, she's an albino."