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"You can't have Christmas lights up in the middle of the spring."
I don't say anything. Everyone in the family told me if I needed anything, just ask. I'm asking for some lights and my dad keeps saying no.
He's about to leave and my heart jumps into my throat. I whimper and pull the sheets up over my head. I hear him come back to my bed and sit down next to me. I peek out from under the covers. My heart calms down. He's still here. I'm still safe.
He touches my hair and peers down at me. "I'll protect you, my Milana. Don't be afraid. I've lost a son and a wife and I won't lose you for anything. I'll protect you with my life. You can sleep easy knowing your dad is watching over you. I know it's scary without your mom and Ricky, but we'll get through it together because we're family and I love you. You don't need to be afraid."
I nod.
"Does that help?" His voice is soft now, less annoyed.
"Yes." For right now, it helps. I do believe he will protect me, and I'm sure he won't let anything bad happen to me.
"Good." He kisses my cheek and turns out the light as he leaves my bedroom.
I jump out of bed and turn on the light again.
I believe what he said, and I know it won't keep the bad men away, but I'm still sleeping with the light on.
Chapter 2 Fishbowl
Foster (Seventeen years old)
"Yo, kid. Bring this tray of drinks out to the pool. Will ya?"
"Me?" I glance over my shoulder at my boss for tonight's catering event. "I'm not a waiter. I'm just washing dishes." At least that's what my buddy told me when he asked me to fill in for him tonight.
"But I need you to deliver this tray, so for right now you are a waiter. Get your skinny butt out there and don't break anything else." Darn. I was hoping he didn't see me break the glasses earlier.
"Sure. Um."
As I dry my hands on a dishtowel and struggle to get my apron over my head, he waits with his mouth in a frown and his foot tapping.
"Hustle up. They've been waitin' ten minutes already." He speaks with a disapproving, old-school Brooklyn accent.
The glasses wobble as he hands me the weight of the tray. Fifteen full glasses of champagne slide around on the metal platter. I could handle it now but after a minute this tray will be double heavy.
"Got it, kid?"
"Yeah, yeah. Got it." For this one moment, I have it. Ten seconds from now, no telling what I'll have. "Where to?"
"The pool." He sounds like a frustrated parent having to repeat instructions. He points to the crowd mingling in an atrium across the yard. Tall glass window panes crossed with white wood surround an indoor pool. The dressed up young people stand in circles inside, their faces animated and laughing. They look like fish in a hexagonal bowl, swimming around in circles, trying to impress the fish next to them. "How do I get in?"
"Round the side. You'll find it."
He leaves me alone standing at the entrance to the service tent where I had been quietly washing dishes five seconds ago. Now I'm faced with the biggest challenge of my life. Carry a heavy tray of drinks into a crowd of extremely wealthy, most-likely drunk, socialites without breaking anything.
My arms shake under the weight of the tray. I hold my breath and trudge up the hill on the uneven grass. I exhale as I finally reach the side of the fishbowl. It looks sealed all the way around. I don't see a door. Peeking inside, I come face to face with a girl. Her eyes widen and her brow comes up when she spots me outside. I must look like a creeper out here. She squints through the glass and sees me. She looks down at my tray and a light goes off in her eyes. She wants the champagne, but she looks way too young to be drinking it.
"Where's the door?" I say to the window. There's no way she can hear me through the glass and over the party noise but what else can I do? She smiles and I look down at the tray. I've lost quite a bit of champagne on the walk over, but there's still enough to serve left in the glasses.
I look up and she's giggling. Is she laughing at me?
Of course she is. I'm a geeky stranger wearing gym shoes with his black work pants while carrying a wobbly tray of drinks as I stand lost and confused in her garden.
And of course she has to be really pretty to add to the humiliation. The lights make her dark brown curls glow. She's wearing a flowy white sundress with embroidered holes near her chest.
I look up and she's staring at me too. I'm the fish on the outside of the bowl; she's the one on the inside. Some guy standing next to her turns and glances out the window. He squints at me and gives me a dirty look. He's got really bushy eyebrows.
