Sex by Francine Pascal

bushes, walking toward the triumvirate of Guidos.
    â€œAre you okay?” she asked the girl, trying to sound as innocent as possible as they all turned their heads in unison.
    The tallest dude peeled himself off the girl and whipped his head around, holding a thick hunting knife in his right hand.
    Okay, one knife. Good to know.
    â€œKeep walking,” he warned with a strong outerborough accent. Everything about him read Brooklyn Tough Guy, with the exception of the platinum blond streaks and tips atop his dark brown, lubed-up hair. He couldn’t be much more than twenty. His friends looked older and much bigger.
    Gaia’s eyes turned to the girl, who was in dirty black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt—had she raided Gaia’s closet? She was pretty, in a goth sort of way, probably no older than nineteen. Even her hair had been dyed black, with the very notable exception of a huge streak of extremely fake-looking red flowing down in the front. Gaia couldn’t quite read the girl’s expression. She was probably too scared to ask Gaia for help. She probably didn’t see how Gaia
could
help. But that was about to change, too.
    â€œI just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Gaia said.
    â€œOh, I’m
sorry,”
he replied sarcastically. He turned back to the girl. “Are you
okay?”
he asked, in a fake-mommy singsong.
    The girl didn’t reply. She only looked back into Gaia’s eyes nervously.
    â€œI guess she’s fine,” the dude said, looking back at Gaia and turning his knife in his hand. “I’m not so sure how
you’re
gonna be if you don’t turn your ass around and get out of here.”
    â€œNo, I’m fine,” Gaia said firmly, locking eyes with this asshole.
    â€œNo, I don’t think you’re
hearing
me,” he hissed. “Get your nosy bitch ass out of here!”
    â€œI’ll just wait till you’re done,” she replied calmly.
    He threw back his head, nearly laughing with frustration. “Bitches!” he groaned. “What is it with the bitches tonight?”
    He began marching toward Gaia furiously. His buddies followed close behind, giving her easy access to them. But when they pulled out their knives, all three picked up speed.
    That’s when there was a sudden unexpected hitch in Gaia’s chest. And a horrible dry lump in her throat. And a stinging queasy creak in her stomach.
    No. No, goddammit. There’s no way this is happening again.
    What a horrible way to be reminded of Ed. Just when she’d found a truly viable distraction, here was the same miserable sensation that had frozen her like a Popsicle in Ed’s bed. The “fear” thing. The “paranoialike” thing, or whatever the hell it was, started gnawing at her chest again, pounding in her head, making her feel ill and weak. All Gaia knew was that it always picked the absolute worst times to present itself, like when she was about to be attacked.
    Who on earth designed this whole fear thing? And are they trying to get us all killed?
    A few more steps and they’d be right on her.
    This was supposed to be the moment when Gaia zinged into focus. This was when her heart rate used to slow down in preparation. Now it was pounding its way out of her chest.
Focus,
she scolded herself.
Overcome it. You said this was what you always wanted, remember? To overcome fear. So you damn well better do it right now.
    The first man lunged for her stomach and, thank the Lord, even though she’d heard herself let out an embarrassing gasp, her reflexes still kicked in. She dodged the knife, clasping her hand around the platinum asshole’s wrist and flipping him over her shoulder. He was a lightweight compared to the other two.
    Her heart was still pounding way too quickly, annoying beads of sweat leaking all over her palms. She could actually feel her legs begging her to run. Her legs wanted no part of this battle. But she