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It's my balcony door. Someone's here.
They're here to get me.
They found me.
This house doesn't have an alarm.
My heart gallops like a panicked mare.
What do I do?
I need a weapon.
Looking around, all I have is a few figurines, but in the bathroom I have sharp stuff.
I grab a razor and my spiral curling iron and run back to the door.
Tap-tap-tap.
Gripping my weapons like blades, I slide the sheer curtain to the side, and peek outside to see who is there to kill me.
"Mila," a tall shadowy figure says in a hushed voice.
Mila? That's what my mom used to call me.
"It's me." Pretty white teeth and a dimpled chin smile down at me.
Oh my goodness. It's Foster.
The Unstoppable Foster Dunham.
Holy cow.
My heart breaks into a full-force run.
I have to hold the razor in the same palm with the curling iron to work the door unlocked. It creaks open and the salty ocean air wafts into my room. "What're you doing here?" I'm loud whispering at him. He can'tbe here. This is crazy.
"Just thought I'd say hello." He turns his torso sideways to slip through the door and stares at my light display.
He leans back and puts his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. "Cool."
My first instinct is to check him for new bruises. The old ones are fading, and I don't see anything new. Maybe Donnie didn't follow through on Dad's order to visit Foster. Donnie's probably too chicken to stand up to Foster anyway.
"People don't usually come over the balcony just to say hello."
"I did. You let me in." Gah! He's so cocksure and unfazed by everything.
He walks through the sunflower curtain over to the built-in shelf along the wall. His fingers caress a figurine my mom bought for me. "What's this?"
"It's a pink poodle." The pink ribbon around his neck is more of a gray string, but he's still my favorite.
"Is it yours?"
"Yes."
"Kinda ugly."
"It's not ugly. It's cute. My mom gave it to me before she died."
