Mitsy Stephans was our neighbor. She had babysat me since I was six. She arrived a few minutes after Dad and Kitty left for The Pasta Palace.
"I just need to be alone right now," I told her. "I'm going to be in my room." Mitsy just snapped her gum, shrugged, and plugged in her MP3 Player. I really should choose who to employ, not Dad. But right then, Mitsy was perfect: not intruding, or asking any questions.
I flew up those stairs so fast, I stumbled over my feet a couple of times. My room was like any normal tween's room. Some posters of pop-stars on the walls. A desk for homework and clothes scattered around. A blue mirror on the wall.
I plopped down face-first on the bed and just screamed as loud as I could into the pillow. Picking my head up after a minute, I felt much better. But, my Dad was still dating a monster straight out of a horror movie.