She was here, here in school.
“Elenora!" I said automatically "You are here, in Enna.”
Elenora, the 'IT girl' from my school & neighborhood in New York, was here in Enna, in all her glamorous glory, standing at the entrance of the cafeteria.
What was she doing here? There was no way they would move here. Her father had elaborate businesses in New York and was a high-ranking official in the New York mafioso, well respected and feared. There was no way they would move here.
I was still speculating about her presence here when she started walking towards me, swaying her hips with supermodel confidence, and only stopped when she had reached right there in the middle of the cafeteria.
There she stood, right at the center, her five-foot-six-inch curvy form demanding every ounce of attent
