My phone buzzed with a motion alert from the nanny cam in the room.
Usually I ignored those. Usually it was Maya helping Lisa with a puzzle, or Lisa trying to feed crackers to a stuffed penguin that had never asked for them.
But something in me pulled tight.
I opened the app.
The video loaded.
The second I saw her face, I stopped breathing.
Maya walked to the door, glanced over her shoulder, unlocked it, and waved her inside.
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The second I saw her face, I stopped breathing.
Sarah.
My middle school bully.
The girl who mocked my clothes loud enough for people to laugh with her. The girl who dumped my backpack into a toilet and grinned while I tried not to cry. The girl who made school feel so dangerous that I used to get sick before first period.
“Get away from her!”
I had not seen her in more than 15 years.
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Now she was walking into my house with a duffel bag that scared me on sight. Then she pulled metal from it and moved toward Lisa.
I ran.
I called 911 from the parking lot and broke every speed limit on the way home.
I hit the door so hard it slammed against the wall.
“Get away from her!”
Maya spun around, white faced and shaking.
Maya burst into tears so fast it almost made me angrier.
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