Page 89 of Until We Burn
Diana smacks my chest with a loofah. “We don’t have time for this!”
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.
“Miss Diana?” Helen shouts. “Are you alright?”
“Yes!” Diana rolls her hand, trying to ease out a fast, convincing lie. “I-I’m just trying to kill this spider by scaring it with the sound of my voice.”
I snort.
Diana smacks a hand over my mouth, but it only makes it worse because Helen sounds even more concerned.
“Do you need help with the spider?”
“No!”Diana swallows hard, before softening her tone with a nervous smile, “No.It’s alright, Helen. I can handle it myself.”
“Oh, okay, well, I am going to start preparing meals for tomorrow.” The concern in Helen’s voice shifts to a stern, cautious tone. “Shout if you need anything.”
“I will!” Diana promises.
We hold our breaths, eagerly waiting for Helen’s footsteps to retreat far enough from the bathroom. When we hear the clang of pots and pans being taken out, we slump back in relief.
Diana opens the shower door and steps out. “Quick! Put on your clothes,” she whispers, “I think I know a way out.”
I grab my clothes and shove them on. “I’m not going to fling myself off the balcony if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No!” Diana looks back at me with wide, horrified eyes as she fastens the knot on her robe. “Why would I ask you to do that?”
“Well, I don’t know, Di. After you suggested I shove my ass through the air vents, I thought some disclaimers were necessary.”
Diana glares at me before she bundles her wet hair up and clamps it into place with a glittery claw clip.
I zip up my pants and make sure not to move too fast. I don’t wanna rattle the loose change I have in there from all the late-night vending machine runs.
With our feet lightly padding across the floor, Diana and I sneak out of the bathroom and head towards the front door. I snatch my shoes from beneath the coat rack.
“Oh, Miss Diana!”
“Aiya!”Diana yelps and shoves me into the corner.
“Merde!”I stumble and grip onto the coat rack for balance.
From this angle, I can see Diana’s back reflected in the mirror on the door. She faces Helen, a short Asian woman with a dignified lift to her chin, a pixie haircut, and soft freckles dappling her nose.
Helen tightens up the knot on her pink Anpanman apron. “Would you like salmon or pickerel for tomorrow?”
Diana flashes an overly bright smile that makes her lips quiver. “Salmon is just fine!”
“Alright, salmon it is,” Helen agrees.
Suddenly, the door whips open and Diana’s driver walks in with a scarf.
“Helen, you forgot your?—”
His eyes land on me.
Then it all happens so fast. He swings out a gun from his coat. My hands fly up. Diana lunges towards him, batting his arm down, while Helen tries to rein her back.
“Hans, no!”
