TEN
I wilted against the door to Peter’s room as I closed it behind me, my heart racing like crazy, but a strange sense of elation filling me.
I had stolen time! “I am so good at this,” I told the room, which was dark and empty of handsome violet-eyed men. “Boy howdy, that could get to be addicting. I can see why people get into trouble doing it. Well, now. That’s done. What next?”
I turned on the light nearest the bed and looked around the room.
“Why, oh, why didn’t I get your cell phone number?” I asked, and plopped myself down on the end of the bed. Any hope that Peter might have left a handy “How to contact me in an emergency” list lying around was dashed.
“Great. He’s probably back at the camp harassing Andrew and Gregory. Or Mrs. Faa.” I gnawed on a hangnail as I considered my o
