A burst of annoyance flared through me. I would tell Tommie not to show up again. To call, like I said. Not just traipse around to the front door and ring the bell. Tommie scared me, coming in like that. For all I knew, she could have had a gun. Or a knife. All I had was a cake, a dense cake, yes, but I hadn’t ever heard of anyone stopping a murderer with a food product.
The doorbell sounded again.
I pattered to the front room. I would tell her to meet me at school. “She has to live near,” I said. Right? Or had she slept outside? How long had she been in the house? My blood rattled through me.
“Maybe I should have spoken to her longer,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to be mean to her. She was upset. That much was clear. “I should have just talked to her.”
Fine! I’d talk to her! See what she was worried over.
I peered through the glass. Fell back against the wall.
Buddy!