How could Mom and Dad expect me to go back to that dance studio, that death trap? But that was the plan for today. Our neighbor, Mrs. Wilson, was going to babysit Angela and Kina while Gregory and his older sister, Hannah, were to escort me to the dance studio. Mom and Dad didn't think it was smart for me to ride the bus by myself.

I turned around and saw Kina standing in my doorway. The nerve! She was eating from a bag of Cheetos. "Gregory and Hannah are waiting for you outside."

I glared at her. "Why are they waiting outside for me?"

"Because Mom asked them to."

"No, because you killed Franco."

"But, I didn't, Loren, I didn't. You were there. I was inside with you. He got hit by a car."

"Because. You. Wanted. A. Soda."

Her eyes went as wide as UFOs. She stopped chewing. Yes, you were caught, you little bitch.

I grabbed open-mouthed Kina by the arm and dragged her out of my room. She didn't follow me as I walked away.

When I opened the front door, I saw Hannah and Gregory standing near the curb, facing the street. Gregory was kicking a small pebble in a circle. I immediately felt jealous. They were close as Franco and I had been. They didn't know the loss I had been through. They had each other for support. They had each other's friendship. My life, on the other hand, was in turmoil, but I had to be a role model for Angela, even while Kina tried to kill me.

If I told Gregory and Hannah my situation, would they help me?

Before I headed over to them, I sighed. Our lawn was full of dandelions. I never knew dandelions weren't flowers. I didn't know until our snotty neighbor, Mr. Millows, pointed out they were weeds and the Homeowner Association required all the people in the neighborhood to meet a certain lawn standard. Screw Mr. Millows. At the moment, he was in his yard, washing his BMW by hand. I was surprised he hadn't hired a maid, but I remembered how one day he told my Dad he didn't trust anyone to touch "his baby."

Gregory turned around and smiled weakly. I could tell he wanted to say something heartfelt, but he held back. He wore a purple shirt that read, "I Love Ballerinas." I guess that was his way of being supportive. Hannah faced me as well. I couldn't read her facial expression, but she gripped her cell phone in her hand. I was grateful for the silence between us. Just being with them was enough.

There was an unspoken bond between the three of us, stating we should go before I was late for ballet practice. As if I cared. I didn't even want to go. I wondered what Gregory would say if he knew I didn't want to go. I lingered behind their pace. Since Hannah was the oldest, I guess she thought she had to walk in front of us like a leader. Gregory walked slower, out of respect, so I could catch up. I turned around to get one last look at my house. A gust of wind blew in my face, so I zipped up my jacket to stay warm. Kina stood in front of the living room window on the first floor, holding the blinds out of her way. She bit her bottom lip and waved goodbye.

A shadow approached Kina from behind. Had Angela or Mrs. Wilson stepped inside the living room? After a second, I noticed it was Franco. He laid his finger to his mouth, telling me to keep quiet. I blinked a few times, not believing what I was seeing. At his funeral, he had entered the white light. He was supposed to be at peace, knowing I was going to take care of things. But what if he couldn't be at peace until I killed Kina?

Franco's hands squeezed Kina's neck. She gasped for air and collapsed to the floor. I grinned. Yes, he did it! She was dead!

When I blinked, Kina was there again. She started smiling and waving in excitement. I shuddered. Ew! How was she still alive? Franco hadn't killed her! That must've been a sign of how he wanted me to proceed. It should be easy enough to sneak up on Kina and strangle her. Maybe I could strangle Kina in her sleep. I couldn't let her scream, though, because the neighbors or Mom and Dad would hear her. I couldn't risk someone stopping me mid-action. My mission was to kill her, and I took my mission seriously.

On the bus, I stared out the window. I had the window seat, Gregory sat beside me, and Hannah sat in front of us. The bus driver was cool. He was a pastor, who always spread the positive word and goofed off with the rowdy, older people.

The regular bus passengers were with us, like the talk-a-hundred-miles-a-second guy. He had just gotten off from his exterminator job. He was the type of person who talked at you, not to you. His voice was so loud that no one could get a word in, and we couldn't even carry on our own conversation to ignore him. Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. That's all he talked about.

Beside us, an older couple bickered, saying the nastiest things to each other. The lady was a real piece of work. She kept mumbling to herself, as if she was off her meds.

The bus stopped on the corner of Washington Street. I hesitated. Only after Gregory squeezed my hand did I start walking. My breath caught in my throat as I stepped off the bus. My heart thrashed in my chest. We were only a block away from my dance studio. How could I get out of my ballet practice? The closer we got, the more my ballet flats felt like cement blocks. It was hard to pick up my feet; they slid along the sidewalk.

"I tried to talk to you at the funeral, but my mom told me to give you space," Gregory whispered. "It scared me when you fainted. I wanted to be there for you."

I looked straight ahead, avoiding his eye contact. "It's okay. You're here now." I hated lying to him. I was not okay.

Gregory nudged my arm. "Are you sure you're okay, Lo?"

I stopped in my tracks. No more lying about my feelings. "No."

Hannah turned and walked back toward us. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"I don't wanna go to practice."

Hannah said, "You'll probably feel differently once you get there."

I pulled my leotard away from my neck. "Please. I can't go back there. I'm not ready." I kicked off my ballet flats, as if they were burning the bottom of my feet. Then I began to pull the tutu off.

"Please calm down, Loren. You're making a scene," Hannah pressed her lips firmly together. "Someone may call the cops."

If I wasn't only wearing a bra and underwear with my leotard, then I would've taken that off, too. I wasn't ready to give up on my temper tantrum. I needed to get out of ballet. Franco and Dad never dictated things to me. They talked to me as if my opinion mattered. Why couldn't Hannah respect my decision? Didn't she see my pain?

Gregory squeezed my hand before picking up my clothes from the sidewalk. "Give it a rest, Hannah. She's hurting."

Hannah bit her nails. "Well what are we supposed to do? Her mom expects her to be at dance practice."

"I don't want to go." I stared off into the distance. I didn't like this side of Hannah.

"Where do you wanna go, Lo? Back home?" Gregory asked. He didn't seem bothered. He honestly cared.

I shook my head and pulled Franco's Ravens cap past my eyes to cover my face, to cover my tears forming. "Please, no. I don't wanna go back there, either."

"Then what do you want?" Worry crept in Hannah's eyes as she furrowed her brow.

I didn't have an answer. Why couldn't we stay on this sidewalk forever?

Gregory came up with the idea of getting something to eat at the pizzeria across the street. During the rest of the evening, Hannah relaxed and started acting like the neighbor I knew she was. She and Gregory comforted me the best way they knew how. For a little while, I forgot how sad I was. They ate greasy pizza and garlicky breadsticks while I ate salad. Even though I was a kid, I still had a particular diet. Since I was a dancer, I took pride in my body and didn't want any toxins slowing me down. Now that I was giving up ballet, though, I could be a normal kid and go off my diet.

In mid-bite of my onion, lettuce, tomato, grilled chicken, and ranch salad, Hannah's phone vibrated on the table. It circled like a merry go round. Hannah gasped when she read the caller ID. "It's your mom," she said to me.

Gregory and I shared a look as Hannah answered the call. We could hear Mom's pissed off and panicked voice. She screeched so loudly that Hannah had to hold her phone away from her ear.

"Yes, everything is fine. I'm so sorry we lost track of time. We're at Tony's across the street."

Gregory picked up his cell to look at the time. I looked around the room and found a clock on the wall above the cash register. Seven o'clock. Crap! We were twenty minutes late. No wonder Mom was mad.

Mom barged through the pizzeria's door. She searched the restaurant and found us in the corner. She ran over and wrapped her arms around me. I could hardly breathe. How embarrassing. Gregory and I would have something to laugh about later.

Who was I kidding? I doubt I'd laugh again.

"Don't ever do that again, Loren! Do you know how scared I was?" Mom's tears soaked my shoulder. "I thought you were dead, and that's why you didn't make it to the dance studio."

During the car ride, there was a long awkward silence. Mom's hands clenched the steering wheel. She looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with all of us. The radio wasn't playing. Hannah sat in the front passenger's seat. She stared out the window. I wondered if she felt bad about the situation. It wasn't her fault. She had finally came around and was only trying to be a good friend. Gregory and I sat in the back seat. I could hear him breathing, and I could smell his cologne. I turned on my cell phone. My screen brightened up the car for a brief moment. It beeped multiple times with notifications. Fifteen voicemails from Mom. Paranoid and obsessive much? I was emotionally drained. I couldn't even answer Mom's question about if I had turned my phone off on purpose or if it had been an honest mistake.

Mom pulled up in front of Gregory and Hannah's house. She still looked straight ahead. Gregory and Hannah didn't move to unbuckle their seatbelts. The four of us stayed in place, with the engine running. Slowly, Hannah turned her head to look at Mom, who didn't move a muscle.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carey," Hannah said.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Hannah," I said. "Mom, it was all me. I started freaking out the closer we got to the studio. I can't go back there.  I can't be there without Franco. I'm sorry I didn't call you. Please, don't blame my friends. It was my fault."

After a moment, Mom looked at Hannah and squeezed her hand. "Thank you for watching over Loren for me. It's okay, I'm not mad. You guys are safe, and that's all that matters."

Hannah sighed in relief before getting out of the car. Gregory offered me a small smile, and then he stepped out, too.

Mom turned in her seat to face me. "I'm sorry you were hurting today, but you can't give up ballet. Give it some time."

"No, I don't want to. Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you loud and clear, but you can't make big decisions while you're grieving. It never ends well."