"She's fine. Don't worry Belna, eberything's cool." He paused for a moment, thought about it. "Unless you didn't come alone. Of course, then things will be berry uncool."
"I'm alone." I confirmed. "I've never been more alone in my entire life," I said.
"Berry good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner from your home?"
"You mean the one down the street?"
"Yes."
"You mean the one I used to go to?"
A sigh. "Belna, your mother's life is hanging in the balance."
"I know! I'm just—"
A abrupt click and the line went dead. I slammed the phone down and ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking heat.
There was no time to look back at the house, and I didn't want to see it as it was now—empty, a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through those familiar rooms was my enemy.
From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where she'd stood when I was a child. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery full of all the flowers she'd tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. Yes, my childhood was better than death. But I raced away from my memories, my childhood, turning the corner, leaving everything behind me.
I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand—I couldn't seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then lurching up to plunge forward again. But at last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; one more street to run down, sweat pouring down my face, gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me. I felt

443

Chapter 22

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