Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“What do you mean? She…die?”
She gives a fierce shake of her head and curls her fingers against my skin. “She’s not my mom anymore.” She gives me a worried look. “You’re not going to send me away, are you? I can help. You wait and see.”
“No. I’m not sending you away, but if you want to go home”—the notion makes my stomach churn, but I bat that anxious feeling away—“I’ll help you get there.”
“You’re my home now.” She presses her head into my arm.
I gulp, a big rock lodging itself in my throat. Before her, I didn’t have a purpose beyond surviving. I do now.
5
Bitsy
Leka doesn’t like the lady behind the desk. He’s smiling, but his leg is rigid, like the floor boards. I press a hand against his knee to let him know I don’t care if we stay here. I liked the last place. It was quiet and warm. The closet felt safe.
But the stranger came and poisoned the place. I know we weren’t supposed to be there. My heart beat super fast, like when I got caught under Mommy’s bed that one time. I was playing there with my toy. One stranger gave Mommy a pair of bunny slippers. I stole one and made a nest for it under the bed.
When Mommy had strangers over, I’d slide under the bed frame and hug my bunny. The squeaky springs above me weren’t a bother. The noise told me Mommy was home. It was always better when she was around, even when her eyes were all black after she sniffed the white stuff that the strangers brought.
Then she started to leave me with strangers. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it at all. I dig my face into the side of Leka’s legs. Those are bad memories.
“How much do you need to overlook the ID issue?”
“Four hundred,” the lady says. She’s not happy either. I can tell because her lips disappear when she frowns. That’s not a face of a happy person. A happy person looks like my bunny slipper—both sides of the mouth curve up and the eyes smile.
“Four hun—” Leka cuts himself off. “Fine.” He flings something at her. “One night. One key. Second floor”
The lady hums to herself as she does something behind the desk. “Room 212. Be quiet and no pets.” She leans over the counter as if to double-check that I’m not a dog.
I scuttle close to the desk, trying to make myself invisible.
“Thanks,” Leka mutters. He peels my hand away from his leg and curves his fingers around mine. I squeeze him back as best I can.
The lady stares at my savior’s back as we walk away. I don’t think she trusts us, but I wait until we’re up on the second floor before I tell him that.
“She shouldn’t trust us,” he says as he fits a plastic thing into the door. I hear a click and then a tiny dot of light above the door handle turns from red to green. “I’m supposed to give her an ID card, but I don’t have one.”
I don’t know what that is, so I keep my mouth shut.
The room is smelly, and the little dust clouds poof around my shoes as I walk on the carpet, but as soon as the door closes, I feel safe again. I stare up at Leka in amazement. It’s not the room or the place that makes me feel safe. It’s him.
He pulls the backpack off his shoulders and drops all the stuff onto the bed. “This place is a shithole, but it’s got a lock. This is a keychain. I’ll put a chair by the door so you can reach it after I leave.” I tremble at the thought of being alone but try to hide it. I can’t be a nuisance to Leka. I don’t want him to send me away. He doesn’t seem to notice and continues, “If you put it on, not even the creepy lady downstairs can get in.”
I watch carefully as he slides a metal button into a dull metal channel attached to the door. When he twists the knob, the chain prevents the door from opening all the way.
“Got it? Don’t take that chain off for any reason, okay?”
“What about you?” If no one can get in, then does that mean he’s locked out? I twist my fingers together. That sounds terrible.
“I’m not going to use the door.” He shuts it and then drags a chair over. He jams it up against the doorknob. “That should keep anyone out.”
He crouches down so we’re eye level. “I need to go get shit. I mean, stuff. I need to get stuff. I need to get us some food and I need some paperwork so that I can find us a better place to live.”