A Little Bit Ninja

19: A Little Bit Stalkerish and One Big Date

My breath caught in my throat.

“You’re just saying that because we have the same color of hair, Er. She probably bleaches.”

I carefully avoided answering the question of who she is. That girl’s hair is naturally as white blond as mine is. The biggest differences in our appearance are that her hair is curly and she has hazel eyes.    

I should have realized that it wasn’t me in that picture Ant showed me, but I was suffering the aftereffects of the sedative at the time, plus I was shocked, having just been kidnapped and then shown a picture of my mom and me dead and all. But the baby’s hair was curly, white. My hair’s always been straight, white. Even in my newborn pictures, my hair formed a two inch long halo poking out in every direction.

When I read her name in that last file last night—after recovering from the jolt of discovering that the baby in the picture lived—I searched her on Facebook. As soon as I laid eyes on her picture, I knew it was her. I didn’t find her until the third page of scanning the list of Natelie Mannings, but I knew she was the one.

An electric current moved through my body as I had stared at the proof that my mom’s files were real, not part of a schizophrenic delusion of grandeur. It was proof that The Girl Who Lived actually existed, and she wasn’t me.

But I couldn’t leave it at that. I wanted to read her profile, and look at her wall. I wanted to see what life she’d chosen, and to see if it was worthy of the life her mother sacrificed so that she could have it.

Did she know about her real mom? I had to know.

She accepted my friend request within five minutes, and messaged me a friendly, “What up?” No doubt trying to figure out where she knew me from.

My plan was to stalk her profile, just for a minute, to make sure she’s a productive member of society and not a juvenile delinquent. And then I would unfriend her right after. I couldn’t risk the mafia being able to trace her through me. Who knows if they’ve hacked my Facebook.

Anyhow, back in the present my two besties were looking at me, waiting for an explanation. This wasn’t something I could elaborate on so I did what I always do when I don’t like how the conversation is going.

“Hey Erica, do you have someone in mind to take to the concert? Anton’s going with me. Millie’s going to be with Landon,” I shot Millie a look that turned my statement into a command, “and Abe’s going to be with Sammy.”   

Erica peeked at me quickly before continuing her butt artwork. Millie and I raised our eyebrows at each other.

“Er?”

“Well,” she stopped to clear her throat. “I was…I was thinking of Paul.”

She waited for some kind of reaction. I didn’t know what.

“Well, I can tell he’s kind of into you, but I wasn’t sure if you were interested…”

“Oh! Oh, no. Go ahead Er. I don’t mind at all. I’ve been thinking of having a break from the whole dating thing anyway.”

Although, if she was really crushing on this guy, which appeared to be the case, taking him to see Justin Bieber in concert probably isn’t the best way to win his affections. But I didn’t say anything, because I just realized what I said.

It just kind of slipped out, and if I’d been thinking about it at all it must have taken place in my subconscious, because I certainly wasn’t aware of it. A break from dating. It actually sounded pretty awesome; the best idea I’d had in ages. My PBC—Potential Boyfriend Compass—was definitely on the fritz. I mean, if I was being honest, I’d say the guy I was most interested in right now was well on his way to becoming an inmate. And my next best option is the guy who placed a bag of poo in my locker yesterday. Yep. A break sounds like just the thing.

“Really? You don’t mind at all? He’s sooooo hot!”

“Erica has a boyfriend,” Millie crooned from the bed.

“Shut up, you,” she shot back as she tossed a bottle of glue at her.

That night as I lay in bed, with the rest of the house quiet, I couldn’t help but continue reliving the conversation with Anton, in my head. Not the part where I was being a beast, but the part where he offered to come to the concert.

I couldn’t decide if it was because he knew that something bad was scheduled to happen at that concert, and was afraid for me, which would be acceptable I suppose. Or if it was because he just wanted to be with me and he couldn’t convince me to change the venue, which would be preferable to the other.

Or he could just be a decent person, trying to keep a bull headed girl from getting into trouble. That one isn’t as good as either of the previous two.

 Or he could be pulling some kind of elaborate scheme to mislead me, possibly even draw me into a trap. Maybe that’s why he used that authoritative voice when he told me I couldn’t go. He knew I would rebel.  

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. I need to unwind, again. Bubble baths should be a certified form of medicine.

The clock on my shelf glowed at me with aqua blue numbers. Midnight. But, it’s never too late to bask in the nummy scents of my jetted tub.

I swept my feathered comforter to the side and swung my legs off the bed, sliding down to the floor. But just as my bare feet sunk into the cushioned carpet, I heard somebody turning the door handle to my bedroom door.

My heart beat went from zero to sixty within the two seconds I stood frozen, watching somebody sneaking into my room in the middle of the night. All I could do was remember the hulking monster that showed up last time someone unexpected came into my house. What if Sr. Head Case was jumping the gun and wanted to take me back tonight?

Suddenly my thought process kicked back into gear and I raced silently across the room to stand behind the door.

Clutching my shaking hands to my chest, I held my breath and waited to sabotage the midnight attacker.  

As the door creaked open inch by inch, a dim light spread across my room in a sliver, just enough to illuminate the silhouette of a man at least a foot taller than me. Not as gargantuan as the last one, but he was still pretty massive.

I tried to stifle my exhale as I let out my suspended breath, but he must have heard me. His head turned toward me just as I aimed a phoenix-eye punch at his carotid sinus. I intended to knock him out without giving him a chance to damage me.

But he caught my fist an inch away from its target.