Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Is anyone home?”
“Hang on a sec,” I yell out, looking around. I don’t know who’s at the door or if they’re here to cause trouble. Hell, it’s probably just someone looking for directions to the school. I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t want anyone to know I have a baby here. On the off-chance the visitor is someone I know, they’re going to ask questions, and I don’t have time for questions. Somehow, the baby is still asleep, but I carefully surround her with pillows and then carefully arrange a blanket over them. It creates a sort of tent, and you can’t tell just by looking at the bed that there’s a baby under there.
I hurry to the door and peek out. Two very tall people in black trench coats are standing there.
Yeah.
They aren’t here for directions.
I suddenly have a sinking feeling in my belly as I realize that Ellie was running from someone last night: someone who was trying to kill her. What if this is that someone? Two someone’s, even? What if they’re here for the baby? What if they kill me?
I’m not some dragon shapeshifter.
I’m not a super villain.
I’m not a hero.
I’m just an ordinary girl.
I’m a fucking janitor.
I don’t have what it takes to keep this baby safe, but I’m going to fucking try.
I open the door.
“Can I help you?” I ask, looking at the people on my front porch. The man is well over six feet tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes. He’s not wearing shades, which is the only thing that makes this thing seem real and not like it’s out of a bad horror movie.
The woman beside him is slightly shorter, but nearly as tall as the man. She’s slender. No, that’s not the right word. Fit. She’s fit. Despite wearing a matching trench coat, I can tell that this is the type of person who secretly knows like eight forms of martial arts.
“Took you awhile to answer the door,” the woman says. “Is everything okay?”
“Aside from the fact that there are two strangers on my porch at seven in the fucking morning, I’d say yes. What can I do for you?” I repeat, gritting the words out. I’m trying really, really hard not to be a bitch. I’m also trying equally hard not to burst into tears and beg them not to kill the baby I’ve hidden on my bed. My emotions are all over the place, and right now, this thing could go either way.
The couple exchange looks, and then they hold up a picture.
It’s of a beautiful woman with long, flowing hair and a sad smile.
Even without looking closely, I can tell that this is Ellie.
“Have you seen this woman?” They ask.
I have to play this cool. One wrong move and it’s all over. I don’t have any doubts they’re both loaded up on weapons, but even if they weren’t, they could easily overpower me.
“Let me see,” I reach for the picture and take it, but then I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Is she a teacher? I don’t know all of the substitutes.”
“You work at the high school?” They ask. For a second, I’m worried I’ve shared too much information about myself, but these two aren’t dumb. They already knew I worked at the high school. Fuck, they probably know my name and whether or not I cheat on my taxes.
I don’t.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “Is she the one who vandalized the locker rooms? Because the principal told me he was going to be pressing formal charges. He just didn’t tell me who the suspect was.”
Bullshit.
It’s all complete bullshit.
Hey, two years of college theater wasn’t all bad. Apparently, it’s given me the ability to think on my feet.