I guess my fear took over.
I don’t remember what happened next. My memory vanished in a swirl of terrified thoughts and cold panic.
Somehow I found myself on the front stoop of our new house. The afternoon sun was lowering itself behind the trees. I saw a squirrel scampering
across the gray tiles of our roof.
I tried the front door. Locked. I had forgotten to take my key.
Mom was probably home. She usually gets home in the middle of the afternoon. I tried the doorbell. I pressed it hard. Pressed it again. Then I
remembered it wasn’t hooked up.
So I raised my fist and pounded on the solid wood door.
Please be home, I thought. Please be home, Mom. We’ve got to save Peter.