Eluna’s P.O.V.
The late afternoon breeze rustled the edge of Lucy’s pigtails as she skipped beside me, humming a song of her own invention. Her small hand was warm in mine, sticky from the melted lollipop she had insisted on holding all the way from my apartment.
Jojo’s house was just up ahead. I could see the cheerful yellow siding peeking out from behind the hedge. Almost there. I could already taste the relief of getting Lucy safely inside and finally having a moment to think. Maybe even breathe.
“Auntie Eluna,” Lucy said, dragging out the last syllable like she was singing it,
“What does ‘papawotzee’ mean?”
I winced.
“Paparazzi, honey. They’re just… people with cameras who don’t know how to mind their own business.”
She nodded solemnly, the way five-year-olds pretend they unde
