She’d been feeling like a victim for too long. She couldn’t let one more thing be taken from her, so she fought back. The figure in the dark hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans was not that big, she realized, but they were determined. So was she. She grabbed her bag and shoved her attacker backward. The hood slipped off her assailant’s head, and she stared in shock as a long, tangled ponytail fell out. Her mugger wasn’t a man, but a girl – a young teenage girl with big brown eyes and dirty blond hair. As the girl turned to bolt, Angela grabbed her arm. “Hold on.” “Let me go. I’m sorry,” the girl blurted out, her eyes round and scared. “I’m just hungry.” “So you decided to rob me? How old are you?” “Eighteen.” There was no way this child was eighteen. “Try again,” she ordered. “Why do you care?”
