When I woke up, I was bored almost immediately. Not that I would've even been at school yet, since it was slightly before 5 in the morning, but in anticipation of the complete lack of... other people in my day. If I'd only been suspended, maybe I would've gone to have some fun with Arjun, or gone to look again for Annalisa or something. But I was suspended and grounded. The thought was so demoralizing that I briefly considered staying in bed. But the pipes drive me crazy, and I wasn't about to stay in there and listen to that. I went into the main room, ungracefully tossed myself onto the couch, and picked up the remote.
After flipping channels for about ten minutes, I concluded that I wasn't going to watch TV at all if the most interesting thing on there was the morning news about a man with his hand stuck in a vending machine. You think I'm making it up, but I'm totally not. Anyway, so I shut off the TV and allowed my mind to go searching for other ideas of things to do. I guessed that maybe I could read a book. I'm not really a super reading-loving person. But I was really bored. So I started reading this random sci-fi novel that I found, and got comfy on the couch with it.
Eventually, Dad walked into the room. He didn't notice me at first, but then he took a double-take.
"Are you... reading, Xiu Li?" He looked bemused.
I nodded, not wanting to talk over the pipes. Those would be finished soon, though.
"I haven't seen you do that since you learned how."
"Shut up," I told him.
"Is the TV really that bad?"
"This morning? Yes. Just boring news."
He just shook his head and laughed at me. I felt it was time to change the subject.
"So," I said awkwardly. "What am I doing today?"
I almost wanted him to make me do something, just so that I wouldn't be completely bored. I felt that my life as a grounded child was almost more delinquent than my life as an underground street urchin. That was a bit ironic.
My somewhat pathetic prayers were answered, because he responded, "I need you to help me at work again."
"Do I have to run another postal route?" I was surprised to hear myself actually excited about this. In hindsight, though, it really wasn't that bad.
He noticed my excitement. "I'll give you a solid maybe. Now come into the kitchen. We're going to make breakfast."
Sounded good to me. I followed Dad into the kitchen, and we made french toast while blasting 80s rap music. Parental bonding! How touching.
After flipping channels for about ten minutes, I concluded that I wasn't going to watch TV at all if the most interesting thing on there was the morning news about a man with his hand stuck in a vending machine. You think I'm making it up, but I'm totally not. Anyway, so I shut off the TV and allowed my mind to go searching for other ideas of things to do. I guessed that maybe I could read a book. I'm not really a super reading-loving person. But I was really bored. So I started reading this random sci-fi novel that I found, and got comfy on the couch with it.
Eventually, Dad walked into the room. He didn't notice me at first, but then he took a double-take.
"Are you... reading, Xiu Li?" He looked bemused.
I nodded, not wanting to talk over the pipes. Those would be finished soon, though.
"I haven't seen you do that since you learned how."
"Shut up," I told him.
"Is the TV really that bad?"
"This morning? Yes. Just boring news."
He just shook his head and laughed at me. I felt it was time to change the subject.
"So," I said awkwardly. "What am I doing today?"
I almost wanted him to make me do something, just so that I wouldn't be completely bored. I felt that my life as a grounded child was almost more delinquent than my life as an underground street urchin. That was a bit ironic.
My somewhat pathetic prayers were answered, because he responded, "I need you to help me at work again."
"Do I have to run another postal route?" I was surprised to hear myself actually excited about this. In hindsight, though, it really wasn't that bad.
He noticed my excitement. "I'll give you a solid maybe. Now come into the kitchen. We're going to make breakfast."
Sounded good to me. I followed Dad into the kitchen, and we made french toast while blasting 80s rap music. Parental bonding! How touching.
We sat down after making the french toast to eat it (duh) and had a nice conversation about the ski area prank. I explained about the pranking that Arjun and I had been doing. He actually seemed pretty entertained by my stories, and I had to stop myself from asking him about the things Nova had told me.
It honestly seemed not at all like Dad to have done something that extreme as a prank. He was always... low-key. I tried and failed to imagine what he would've been like at my age, before he suddenly decided to be a parent.
We finished breakfast and walked over to the post office. It was nice outside this early in the morning, but I figured it'd be hot later, so I was just wearing a tank top. Not that that's actually relevant to anything. Why did I write that?
People seemed to be in quite a gung-ho mood this morning. Maybe because their careers depended on it. I almost wondered why these people were fighting so hard for a job I knew they hadn't had for that long. But I figured that was the negative attitude that no one wanted around. So I made myself shut up.
Dad had a lot of fundraisers planned. Honestly, a lot of them sounded pretty stupid, but I didn't get a chance to tell him that, because he took me up on my earlier offer of running a mail route. Oh, wait? Did I say a mail route? What I meant by that was all the mail routes. Here's how it happened. My dad wanted Curt and Marjorie on other fundraising projects of some kind, but he didn't want to further jeopardize the reputation of the establishment with the USPS, so he made sure that all the mail would still be delivered. I barely stopped myself from asking him if it wouldn't be more jeopardizing to put the entire town's mail in the hands of one suspended sophomore without a learner's permit.
I was obviously pretty angry at him, but I got what he was doing and why. I went out back and started looking at all the mail I had to deliver. Honestly, this was ridiculous. I couldn't even fit all of it into one truck. I was going to have to come back for more later. No lunch break for me, I guessed.
I wasn't even going to ask about the lunch break. I made a cynical bet to myself that it's not like Dad would really care anyway.
I grabbed the keys to the same truck I'd driven yesterday, loaded up as much mail as would possibly fit in one truck, and made myself a mental note of how I would have to drive. I ended up planning on a snakelike pattern. Maybe not the most efficient thing that I could've done, but I needed to come up with something before I wasted valuable daylight time pointlessly optimizing.
I hopped in the driver's seat, started it up, and drove out of the parking lot, buckling my seat belt as I went.
The stupid thing about mail routes is that you really can't speed things up a lot. You can't speed too much, because on average, you're only driving twenty feet at a time. Even so, I felt less nervous if I tried. I would throw the envelopes mercilessly in the mailbox, slam the door shut and the flag down, and then go screeching down the street to the next destination. It was really hectic. I got some insane looks, and I made a conscious effort to try to look like I knew what I was doing. I'm pretty sure that didn't work, though, since at one point a cop stopped me and asked me not if I was old enough to drive the truck, but if I could please confirm somehow that I hadn't stolen the truck.
I told him that if I'd stolen the truck, it'd be unlikely that I would go around town delivering the mail. He didn't seem to like that too much, but he let me off with a warning, a glare, and an order to "calm my ass down" about delivering the "goddamn envelopes." It was, after all, the "age of the internet," so "I couldn't have that much shit to deliver, could I?"
I learned the important lesson that you don't make snarky comments to cops. Although I'd already had experience with running from them, so I'm pretty sure it could've been worse. Good thing I'm adorable, right? Except really not. I was really sweaty, pissed, and I don't exactly have pigtails.
I swung back by the post office to get more mail. I'm not sure what time it was by that time, but I noticed Bill was making phone calls and looking angrier than I'd ever seen him before. I didn't pay too much attention, though. I threw all of the empty mail baskets back into the room where they're kept (I excel at specificity) and then exchanged them for the heavy, full baskets of dead trees with patterned ink splotches. Those being letters.
Actually, just for the sake of redeeming myself about my earlier irrelevancy, I would like to point out that I was sweating profusely at this point, and was really glad that I'd chosen to wear a tank top. Ha! Didn't see that tie-in coming, did you?
I completed my second mail route without much extra ado, although I did get pissed at the glued-shut mail box from the day before. I dumped their mail on the sidewalk. That's probably illegal, but they obviously didn't want any mail anyway!
Maybe the sun was getting to me.
I finished up as fast as I could and pulled back into the post office parking lot with sweat dripping down in between my boobs. I felt completely disgusting. Angry at my dad, angry at the mail, and angry at myself. I don't even know why.
I stormed back in and felt slightly relieved almost immediately by the air conditioning. Dad saw me come in and looked overjoyed. "Xiu Li!" He went to hug me, but I gave him a look. He handed me a sandwich instead. I sat down and began to eat it while he gave me further instructions. "I need you to help with fundraisers now."
Seriously! What the hell! Hadn't I helped enough?
Apparently not. "I want you to take one of the mail baskets and stand on the corner with a sign. You'll have to make the sign, but it doesn't need to be that complicated. Just something like "save the post office!" or something along those lines."
"You're kidding me."
He just stared at me. "No, I'm not. We're trying everything."
"I have to go panhandle for the U.S. Postal Service?" Now I was pissing him off.
"Xiu Li Zheng. Go make a damn sign and get out of here. You're the one who got suspended in the first place."
I found a large sheet of paper and borrowed a couple of highlighters from Bill. I really could've used Arjun's help with the sign-making, but he wasn't there. The product of my hurried labors was a large piece of cardboard with a paper cover that read "SAVE THE POST OFFICE!!!"
Maybe the exclamation points were overkill.
I didn't give a damn.
I grabbed my makeshift sign and one of the knocked over post baskets from my earlier antics and went down the block. Where would be a good location for advertising?
Despite my teenage sense of public embarrassment screaming in protest, I concluded that the corner out in front of Castle Apartments was probably the best bet. I pocketed my dignity in my sweaty jeans, set up the basket, and made an effort to actually get psyched about saving the post office.
My first half an hour was miserable. I'm pretty sure the world knew I was just a pissed teenager with a sign, and I don't even know if they would've given me money otherwise. I jumped up and down. "SAVE!" I gasped. "SAVE THE POST OFFICE!" A pedestrian walking by threw in a quarter. One guy offered me ten dollars to shut up. I considered taking it, but I knew I couldn't.
I had to make some kind of change in my morale. I hated this job more than anything (it certainly made me feel inclined to step it up in my schoolwork, that's for sure), but for that very reason, I wasn't going to let nothing come of it.
So I started getting crazy. I decided I should at least be entertaining. So I began to sing. I don't know what came over me. I just started singing, show-tune style, like my life was a musical. I sang about how my father had struggled through so much with the post office, only to have it ripped from his hands by the next town over. I sang about the joy of getting a letter when you were lonely. I made up at least 11 different songs about mail, postage, stamps, trucks, the post office itself, and Dad. And people actually threw some money into my bucket. I was kind of proud. I took it as a boost in self-esteem regarding my singing abilities.
But my throat started to get sore and people started to complain. I needed a new idea.
I pretended that this was some weird manifestation of school rivalry with the next town over. I listed loudly all the ways in which DuBolaire had inflicted pain on the family. I recited everything I'd ever memorized, including some of the more embarrassing ones. I did as many pushups as I could and hoped someone would sponsor me. I pretended to be homeless. I tried miming. I handed out hugs, compliments, and handshakes. I gave people directions. I signed more autographs (that one didn't get me a lot of money.) I tried stand-up comedy, imitating people who walked by, and hired myself out as a splendid conversationalist for the lonely. Individually, none of my acts actually got me a lot of money. But it made a lot of people smile, and the combined effort had the effect of exhausting me. Oh, and I made a pretty sizable profit. The blind guy across the street looked at me admiringly. Or maybe he didn't. I don't even know.
It was pretty well into the evening by now. I took my profits, thanked no one in particular, and headed back down the street to the post office.
Dad was in there, but he scarcely seemed to notice my presence. I gave him the money, and he thanked me, but his head wasn't in the game. He let me keep the change.
I was getting kind of scared for him. Earlier I'd been angry, but now it was just saddening to watch. Everything he said had a glaze of panic over it. He was so desperate. I told him I was going to go home, but he didn't say anything.
I said good night to the rest of the people there and started walking home. I got more and more pissed off as I walked. This was all completely DuBolaire's fault. Because of him, I'd run from the police, embarrassed myself on a street corner, and watch my dad unravel as he held on to his job for dear life. This guy was completely twisted. I didn't even completely understand what was going on, but I thought I owed it to Dad to try and stop it.
After all, I was suspended anyway. What else was I gonna do? Go watch more TV? Or not?
I made up my mind and headed over to the bus stop. With the spare change from my street corner acting, I hopped on the bus and took it over to DuBolaire's post office.
Well. It wasn't that easy. I got off the bus and asked some random woman where the post office was. She grinned. "What is it with people and the post office today? Earlier there was some protester guy that then some man made leave! Anyway, it's only a block from here. Go straight that way; you can't miss it."
I thanked her and went on my way. I was feeling vengeful. It was rematch time.
I walked into the post office, thankful that they hadn't closed yet. It was probably about to, though. There weren't very many people in there. I walked up to a uniformed person and asked if I could speak to the postmaster. He must've heard the tone in my voice. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," I said. "I'm a representative from the next town over."
"Oh, lord," said the man tiredly, and directed me to Mr. DuBolaire's office.
The door was standing open. I peeked in, but there didn't seem to be anyone in there. I stepped in, with the intention of sitting in a chair.
"You found me out, didn't you?"
I turned around. Mr. DuBolaire was standing right there, and he'd shut the door. I hadn't even heard it. A chill ran down my spine.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, letting some of my uncertainty show. "I'm here for a rematch."
"A rematch?" He smiled. "We'll see about that." He opened the door again. Two guys came in.
"I'm guessing you're here because you know my little secret," he went on. I had no clue what he meant by that. How was his blackmailing Dad supposed to be a secret? But the two men were closing in on me now. Had he paid them off or what?
"You son of a bitch," I hissed. "Leaving my dad to clean up all your shit!" I took a swing at him, and missed. The guys grabbed my arms behind my back before I could get another shot. I struggled, but I already knew I couldn't get away. What was he doing? Even though I was mad, I was pretty confused, too. I hadn't even told him what I was here for!
"Calm yourself, please," he said. "I'm truly sorry I have to do this to you, but I can't let you go blabbing about my secrets. At very least, I think you and little Miss DuBolaire have some catching up to do."
He notices that I'm confused. "I'll let you and little Miss DuBolaire catch up, then." What the hell? I was completely in the dark.
At that moment, with Mr. DuBolaire chuckling, the two guys threw me in his office closet. Then I was literally completely in the dark. I'd gone from being an aggressor to a prisoner in less than two minutes, and I had no idea how it had happened.
As if that wasn't confusing enough, as I was thrust into the closet, there was just enough time as the door swung shut and locked for me to notice I wasn't alone in there. A silhouette was seated in the corner, huddled on the floor and looking incredibly pathetic.
I couldn't make a sound. I was trying to put all the pieces together, but I couldn't do it. He'd said I needed to catch up with Miss DuBolaire...
She spoke before I could make myself say anything.
"Who's there?" She was as scared as I was. "Who are you?"
I was so overwhelmed. I sniffled, and then started to cry, all at once. She gasped. "No. Who are you? Why are you--"
I collapsed next to her on the floor of the closet and put my head on her shoulder.
A tear fell down onto my nose. It wasn't mine. Then she turned and held me.
"Xiu Li." She spoke softly now. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't answer. I just kept crying into her shoulder. She hugged me even more tightly, rocking slightly.
When I finally did speak, it came out in an almost inaudible whisper.
"Annalisa, I'm sorry."
I buried my face in her shoulder.
"It's okay," she said, even though I didn't believe her. "It's okay."
* * *
We sat there long after I stopped crying. My imagination kicked in in the dark. I was back in the housenook. Nothing was wrong. It had all been a dream. But it wasn't. Finally, Annalisa spoke.
"Are you okay?"
"I think so," I said. "Why am I in here? Why are you in here?" I paused, disgusted with how pathetic I sounded. "What's going on?"
"It's a long story," she said. I laughed bitterly. "I'm assuming I have awhile," I told her. "Go ahead."
"Well," she started, "when you went and hid, the police took me away."
"I know," I said. "I saw." I didn't tell her any of the details.
"But instead of taking me to the police station, they took me to this random other building. I had no idea where I was. I felt like I'd been kidnapped. They put a bag over my head and everything. I sat in there for a little while, and they brought me food a couple of times. I actually managed to escape, and I found a different spot in the tunnels to hide. But they found me again, maybe a day or so later, and they put me back in the car and brought me here. Just waltzed me right into the post office. They let me see where I was and everything. And then they brought me to Mr. DuBolaire. I walked into his office with these two guys who were dressed as post office officials, and I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know if he was going to rape me, kill me, or sell my organs. But I never would've expected what he actually told me."
She paused. "He just got up from his desk and hugged me. Then he said that he was happy to finally meet me. I was really confused. And that's when things got weird."
"Go on," I said.
"I'll tell you like he told me," she said. "He suddenly looked really wistful, and then it was flashback time. 'I had a girlfriend in the eighth grade,' he told me. 'I loved her. She was beautiful. And one thing led to another and Elaine, that was her name, got pregnant. I was overjoyed, because I knew we were going to spend the rest of our life together. But she wasn't so happy, and neither were her parents. Elaine wanted to give the baby up for adoption.' At this point, I was wondering why this was relevant."
"No kidding," I said.
"Next, it got even weirder. He went on, 'I wanted to keep the baby. So when she finally gave birth to her, a beautiful baby girl named Jane, I tried to stop Elaine from giving her up. But she tricked me, and she came to school one day and told me she'd taken her somewhere I'd never find her. So for the first two years of high school, I focused entirely on trying to track her down. And I did. I found our daughter in an orphanage a few towns over. She was such a lovely little girl, and so well-settled at the orphanage. I tried to adopt her for myself, but they told me I was too young. It was tragic.'"
"'So when I was 18, they said I could adopt her within a year. But I got greedy. That wasn't good enough for me. So I tried to steal her. I connected the electrical tunnels under the city to the orphanage myself, and snuck in one night when everyone was sleeping. But Jane cried, as four-year-olds do, and I got caught. They put a restraining order against me. I tried working around, but it was hard for me to find a steady job. Either way, I knew I had to get my daughter. I waited for eight more years before I had any other successes. I was 26, and she was 12. So I found a couple of people and hired them to do my dirty work. The plan was simple. They would go and pretend to adopt my daughter, and then once the deed was done, I would take her for myself. But they were swindlers. They took my money and then didn't show up to pick her up.'"
I was starting to understand DuBolaire's story, and I could hear in Annalisa's tone of voice that she understood very well, too.
"As soon as he said that, I knew he must be talking about me," she said. "It all clicked. I'd been trying to put that thought out of my mind, saying Jane was a common name, but the coincidence was too strong by this point." I hugged her.
"The story's not over," she said. "He kept going: 'Suddenly, my daughter disappeared. I had no idea where she had gone. She wasn't at the orphanage, and she wasn't with my hired couple. She had disappeared. For the next five years, I hired people to search the entire city for Jane Patterson. I went through so much to get so little. And then!' He cackled a little at this point. 'And then your darling friend came into the post office and fought with me. The police didn't catch her, and I didn't think anything of it, until I saw her hanging around with my daughter. You, my dear.' As if I hadn't already figured that out. So when my men saw you two descending into my tunnels, I knew exactly what I had to do.' And they took me. They never wanted you anyway, Xiu Li."
I was shocked. "That's... incredibly creepy, Annalisa."
I heard her sarcastic face through the dark. "Ya think?"
"So he's holding you in the closet?"
"Until he can figure out what to do with me, yeah." Annalisa paused again. "Why are you here?"
"I think DuBolaire thought that I knew about this," I said. "Really I just came to kick him in the balls for maybe shutting down my dad's post office."
At that moment, with Mr. DuBolaire chuckling, the two guys threw me in his office closet. Then I was literally completely in the dark. I'd gone from being an aggressor to a prisoner in less than two minutes, and I had no idea how it had happened.
As if that wasn't confusing enough, as I was thrust into the closet, there was just enough time as the door swung shut and locked for me to notice I wasn't alone in there. A silhouette was seated in the corner, huddled on the floor and looking incredibly pathetic.
I couldn't make a sound. I was trying to put all the pieces together, but I couldn't do it. He'd said I needed to catch up with Miss DuBolaire...
She spoke before I could make myself say anything.
"Who's there?" She was as scared as I was. "Who are you?"
I was so overwhelmed. I sniffled, and then started to cry, all at once. She gasped. "No. Who are you? Why are you--"
I collapsed next to her on the floor of the closet and put my head on her shoulder.
A tear fell down onto my nose. It wasn't mine. Then she turned and held me.
"Xiu Li." She spoke softly now. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't answer. I just kept crying into her shoulder. She hugged me even more tightly, rocking slightly.
When I finally did speak, it came out in an almost inaudible whisper.
"Annalisa, I'm sorry."
I buried my face in her shoulder.
"It's okay," she said, even though I didn't believe her. "It's okay."
* * *
We sat there long after I stopped crying. My imagination kicked in in the dark. I was back in the housenook. Nothing was wrong. It had all been a dream. But it wasn't. Finally, Annalisa spoke.
"Are you okay?"
"I think so," I said. "Why am I in here? Why are you in here?" I paused, disgusted with how pathetic I sounded. "What's going on?"
"It's a long story," she said. I laughed bitterly. "I'm assuming I have awhile," I told her. "Go ahead."
"Well," she started, "when you went and hid, the police took me away."
"I know," I said. "I saw." I didn't tell her any of the details.
"But instead of taking me to the police station, they took me to this random other building. I had no idea where I was. I felt like I'd been kidnapped. They put a bag over my head and everything. I sat in there for a little while, and they brought me food a couple of times. I actually managed to escape, and I found a different spot in the tunnels to hide. But they found me again, maybe a day or so later, and they put me back in the car and brought me here. Just waltzed me right into the post office. They let me see where I was and everything. And then they brought me to Mr. DuBolaire. I walked into his office with these two guys who were dressed as post office officials, and I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know if he was going to rape me, kill me, or sell my organs. But I never would've expected what he actually told me."
She paused. "He just got up from his desk and hugged me. Then he said that he was happy to finally meet me. I was really confused. And that's when things got weird."
"Go on," I said.
"I'll tell you like he told me," she said. "He suddenly looked really wistful, and then it was flashback time. 'I had a girlfriend in the eighth grade,' he told me. 'I loved her. She was beautiful. And one thing led to another and Elaine, that was her name, got pregnant. I was overjoyed, because I knew we were going to spend the rest of our life together. But she wasn't so happy, and neither were her parents. Elaine wanted to give the baby up for adoption.' At this point, I was wondering why this was relevant."
"No kidding," I said.
"Next, it got even weirder. He went on, 'I wanted to keep the baby. So when she finally gave birth to her, a beautiful baby girl named Jane, I tried to stop Elaine from giving her up. But she tricked me, and she came to school one day and told me she'd taken her somewhere I'd never find her. So for the first two years of high school, I focused entirely on trying to track her down. And I did. I found our daughter in an orphanage a few towns over. She was such a lovely little girl, and so well-settled at the orphanage. I tried to adopt her for myself, but they told me I was too young. It was tragic.'"
"'So when I was 18, they said I could adopt her within a year. But I got greedy. That wasn't good enough for me. So I tried to steal her. I connected the electrical tunnels under the city to the orphanage myself, and snuck in one night when everyone was sleeping. But Jane cried, as four-year-olds do, and I got caught. They put a restraining order against me. I tried working around, but it was hard for me to find a steady job. Either way, I knew I had to get my daughter. I waited for eight more years before I had any other successes. I was 26, and she was 12. So I found a couple of people and hired them to do my dirty work. The plan was simple. They would go and pretend to adopt my daughter, and then once the deed was done, I would take her for myself. But they were swindlers. They took my money and then didn't show up to pick her up.'"
I was starting to understand DuBolaire's story, and I could hear in Annalisa's tone of voice that she understood very well, too.
"As soon as he said that, I knew he must be talking about me," she said. "It all clicked. I'd been trying to put that thought out of my mind, saying Jane was a common name, but the coincidence was too strong by this point." I hugged her.
"The story's not over," she said. "He kept going: 'Suddenly, my daughter disappeared. I had no idea where she had gone. She wasn't at the orphanage, and she wasn't with my hired couple. She had disappeared. For the next five years, I hired people to search the entire city for Jane Patterson. I went through so much to get so little. And then!' He cackled a little at this point. 'And then your darling friend came into the post office and fought with me. The police didn't catch her, and I didn't think anything of it, until I saw her hanging around with my daughter. You, my dear.' As if I hadn't already figured that out. So when my men saw you two descending into my tunnels, I knew exactly what I had to do.' And they took me. They never wanted you anyway, Xiu Li."
I was shocked. "That's... incredibly creepy, Annalisa."
I heard her sarcastic face through the dark. "Ya think?"
"So he's holding you in the closet?"
"Until he can figure out what to do with me, yeah." Annalisa paused again. "Why are you here?"
"I think DuBolaire thought that I knew about this," I said. "Really I just came to kick him in the balls for maybe shutting down my dad's post office."
"Ah."
I didn't respond. I was too busy thinking.
I didn't respond. I was too busy thinking.
Annalisa.
Annalisa DuBolaire. This was terrible. Her entire life had been essentially wrecked by the same man who'd wrecked mine.
"I'm so sorry, Annalisa."
"Why?" she said. "It doesn't change who I am. He's not my father. He's just a psycho who shares some of my genetics." Then she stopped. "Do you mind if we talk about something else, though?"
"I'm so sorry, Annalisa."
"Why?" she said. "It doesn't change who I am. He's not my father. He's just a psycho who shares some of my genetics." Then she stopped. "Do you mind if we talk about something else, though?"
So we ignored it all. I'd missed her dreadfully, and we talked about school and Arjun. I told her about all my pranks, and about mail routes. She talked a little about some funny things she'd heard from in the closet, but she really didn't have a lot of other stories. Mostly, I talked. She laughed at the right times, and got pissed at the right times, and asked good questions. It kept continuously hitting me more and more just how much I'd missed her.
We talked for hours. I didn't know how long it had been, or if it was dark out. I barely even thought about Dad. Eventually, though, we fell asleep. On the floor of the closet.
We talked for hours. I didn't know how long it had been, or if it was dark out. I barely even thought about Dad. Eventually, though, we fell asleep. On the floor of the closet.
I'd never felt more confused or more at home.
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