Chute Roll

Chapter Six

I was dreaming about a woodpecker when I woke up the next morning. I realized the knock-knock was not a woodpecker sitting on my head and trying to dig into my brain. The soft knock-knock came from the front door.

I looked at my alarm clock. It was seven o'clock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Who would be knocking at my door at this time? The sun was barely up.

I put on some sweats. I walked to the door. I did not have far to walk. I live in a small apartment. It is all I can afford.

I looked through the peep hole of my front door.

Sabella Scanelli!

I opened the door. She stepped inside before I had a chance to ask her to come in. She shut the door behind her.

"Jeff," she said. Her long dark hair was tied back. She wore jeans and a leather jacket over a T-shirt. Her face was beautiful.

"Un-huh," I said without opening my mouth. I hadn't even brushed my teeth. I did not want to blast her with morning breath.

"Sit down," I said, covering my mouth. I pointed at an old armchair. Except for two kitchen chairs, it was the only chair in my apartment.

I grabbed blue jeans and a clean T-shirt. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and splashed water on my hair. As I combed my hair back, I stared at the mirror to see myself as Sabella would see me.

My blue eyes looked back at me. They were blue eyes in a face still puffy from sleep. I decided there wasn't much to be impressed with. I am not ugly, but on the other hand, movie people will never chase me down to ask me to be a star.

When my ordinary hair was combed neatly above an ordinary face, I threw on my jeans and T-shirt. Then I went back out to my visitor.

"Good morning," I said.

"You live here by yourself, don't you."

"Well," I answered, "as you can see, there's not much room for anyone else."

I lived in a studio apartment. Which is a fancy name for a one-room apartment. My bed pulls down from the wall. When I push it back up — which I did with her watching — my bedroom becomes the living room. There is a small kitchen off to the side. And a small bathroom. Nothing more.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Eighteen."

"How long have you lived on your own?"

"This is my first month," I said. "My parents live on the other side of town. I visit them a lot, but I wanted to show them I could make it on my own."

"You're lucky," she said. "I wish I could have that chance."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Eighteen."

"Then who is stopping you?"

She laughed. It was a sad laugh. "Think of a bird in a cage made of gold. That's me."

"I don't get it," I said.

She stared at me for a few minutes, as if she was deciding something. "You don't want to know," she finally said. "Trust me."

She stood. "Anyway, last night I called the flight school for your schedule. You work early today."

"Yes," I said.

"So I'm here hoping I can get a ride with you," she said. "It took me nearly two hours to walk here. But the airport is so far out of town it would take most of the rest of the day to get there."

"But what about —"

"My bodyguards and the big black car?" she asked.

I nodded.

"That's why I'm here," she said. "I ran away from them."