10
“Miss Halli?”
It’s morning, and there’s a stranger standing by my bed. A girl who looks about twelve years old, holding a tray that looks much too heavy for her. On top of it are a teapot, a coffee pot, cups, various drink accessories, fruit, muffins, and a daisy in a little vase.
The girl smiles as soon as I pry open an eye.
“Good morning, Miss Halli!” She’s way too cheerful, too early.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Five-thirty. Ferguson said to give you plenty of time to eat and walk your dog before he sees you.”
“Who’s Ferguson?” I groan. “Why is he torturing me?”
“It’s his job,” the girl answers.
She presses a button on the edge of my bed, and the curtains in my room scroll open.
“It’s dark out,” I say.
“I know, Miss. I’m sorry. One moment.”
She presses another button, a
