slamming and bashing going on somewhere in the house. I try to block out the noise by singing to myself, but eventually I hear someone screaming in pain and it’s impossible to ignore. It sounds like one of the girls is being beaten. I pray for her until the screaming stops and the house grows quiet again — deathly quiet.
Somehow I manage to fall back to sleep. But when morning comes, I feel like I am climbing the walls. Literally. It’s like I need to do something to purge the sounds from last night from my head. So I start doing handstands. I used to be in gymnastics, back in middle school before I got too tall.
To distract myself from the madhouse I’m imprisoned in, I try all sorts of old tricks, sometimes crashing and bashing around so loudly I’m surprised Tatiana doesn’t come in and tell me to shut up. I think I understand why these walls are so scratched and scuffed and banged now. Trapped animals tend to claw at their cages.
I can’t believe that just one week ago I went to early church with Mom. Or how we stopped by Rosie’s Deli to get a quick breakfast afterward. What would I give for a meal like that now? I’m also ashamed to think of how I griped and groaned about having to babysit that day. What wouldn’t I do to be babysitting Leo and Lacy instead of being here? Maybe we really don’t know what we have until it’s gone.
But to distract myself I continue with my old gymnastic moves and am in the middle of a back bend when the door opens. Pulling myself up into a standing position, I’m surprised to see a blond guy gaping at me like he’s seeing an apparition. I make a dramatic bow and then smile broadly.
“Not bad,” he tells me.
“Well, now thank you, thank you very much,” I say in a corny Elvis imitation.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard the noise.”
“Sorry about that. I was just really, really restless.” I continue babbling away about nothing, willing to do anything, including acting like the village idiot, to delay his exit for as long as possible. That’s how hungry I am for human companionship — as well as food. “So what happened to Tatiana? I haven’t seen her lately.”
“She’s, uh, sleeping it off.”
“Oh.” I nod like this is no surprise. “So, are you going to let me out of my cage now?” I smile hopefully, remembering my plan to win his trust.
He presses his lips together, rubbing his chin, as if he’s actually considering my request.
“I promise to be on my best behavior.” I smooth out my permanently wrinkled and probably ruined black dress.
“I almost believe you.”
“So, are you Jimmy? The one Tatiana says takes such good care of us?”
He nods. “That’s me.”
I stick out my hand and he shakes it. “Nice to finally meet you. Are you friends with Marcia and Bryce too?”
“Yeah … you could say that. Business associates at least.”
I study him closely. Dressed in a plaid western shirt and holey blue jeans, he’s about my height or maybe even shorter and somewhat slight in build. My best guess is that he’s late teens to early twenties. His hair appears to be naturally brown but has been highlighted to look blondish. He’s actually pretty good looking. But like Tatiana, there’s a toughness in his steely blue eyes. Or maybe it’s just sadness. I silently send up a prayer for him.
“Well, I’m willing to let you out, Serena. But I’m warning you, if you try to pull anything, I guarantee you, you’ll be sorry.”
I force another smile. “I give you my word. You can trust me.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’ve been around long enough to know that people sometimes say things they don’t mean.”
“I just want to be with people.” At least that’s not a lie.
“Okay. But you mess with me and you’ll be sorry.” He gives me a hardened look. “Marcia and Bryce might want you to look good for Mr. T, but I can make your life miserable until then — without leaving any marks.”
“Yeah, I’m
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley