Lana
I keep telling myself that no loan shark is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, ready to break my knees, as I climb up with a tray piled high with spaghetti and meatballs.
My arms are already shaking. Thank God for Mrs. Moretti. She doesn’t like my dad much, so I had to lie and swear the food was only for me. Just me. No sharing.
I stop on the last step and peek around the corner. My heart is loud in my ears. The hallway is empty. No strangers.
No shadows. Nothing. I let out a slow breath and feel stupid for being this jumpy. So Dad owed twenty-five grand to some mystery group.
That didn’t mean we were about to be killed, right? People owed money all the time. They didn’t just disappear.
I walk down the hallway, careful and quiet. Then I see something on the floor in front o
