Michael woke me up at noon. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead." He brought in
lunch. It was a big steak. "Come and eat."
"I can't it that!" I said while I was rubbing my eyes.
"Oh yes, you can. Come on."
"Why are you in a good mood?" What was wrong with him? Mrs. Powell is dead.
"Because it is a beautiful day," he said happily.
"Even after last night, "I' was feeling sick. How could he be so happy?
"What happened last night?" Was he kidding me?
"About Mrs. Powell?"
"Who is Mrs. Powell?" What!!!!! I thought I was going to throw up.
"What do you mean 'Who is Mrs. Powell?'? Don't mess with me, Michael! I'm not in the playing mood!"
"I'm not! I really don't know who Mrs. Powell is." I could tell he was telling the truth. I ran out of the room. Something was really wrong. I saw Larry down the hall. I ran to him. I had to know.
"Larry!"
"Yes!" Something was different about him. I didn't know what it was, but he was different.
"What happened to Mrs. Powell?"
"Who?"
"Umm...Mrs. Powell? The doll I bought last night."
"Honey, I don't know."
"O-O.K. Thanks anyway."
"You're welcome." I went to her room. Her stuff had to be still there. I mean...how could the dead get their stuff? The room was empty. The cleaning lady was in there.
"Señorita, was there anyone in this room yesterday?" I asked her in Spanish. She answered in Spanish faster that I could understand. But she pretty much told me that no one stayed in this room and she was cleaning it to prepare for someone to stay. I thanked her and went back to my room. Michael was still there.
"Are you going to eat now? You are looking pale. You have to eat." I notice the same difference in him that I saw in Larry. But I sat on the bed anyway. The steak was rare, but I ate it. I didn't realize how hungry I was. The steak was so juicy and bloody.
"I can't it that!" I said while I was rubbing my eyes.
"Oh yes, you can. Come on."
"Why are you in a good mood?" What was wrong with him? Mrs. Powell is dead.
"Because it is a beautiful day," he said happily.
"Even after last night, "I' was feeling sick. How could he be so happy?
"What happened last night?" Was he kidding me?
"About Mrs. Powell?"
"Who is Mrs. Powell?" What!!!!! I thought I was going to throw up.
"What do you mean 'Who is Mrs. Powell?'? Don't mess with me, Michael! I'm not in the playing mood!"
"I'm not! I really don't know who Mrs. Powell is." I could tell he was telling the truth. I ran out of the room. Something was really wrong. I saw Larry down the hall. I ran to him. I had to know.
"Larry!"
"Yes!" Something was different about him. I didn't know what it was, but he was different.
"What happened to Mrs. Powell?"
"Who?"
"Umm...Mrs. Powell? The doll I bought last night."
"Honey, I don't know."
"O-O.K. Thanks anyway."
"You're welcome." I went to her room. Her stuff had to be still there. I mean...how could the dead get their stuff? The room was empty. The cleaning lady was in there.
"Señorita, was there anyone in this room yesterday?" I asked her in Spanish. She answered in Spanish faster that I could understand. But she pretty much told me that no one stayed in this room and she was cleaning it to prepare for someone to stay. I thanked her and went back to my room. Michael was still there.
"Are you going to eat now? You are looking pale. You have to eat." I notice the same difference in him that I saw in Larry. But I sat on the bed anyway. The steak was rare, but I ate it. I didn't realize how hungry I was. The steak was so juicy and bloody.