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All I can do is stare at her.

Well...that explains a lot.

"You've heard of me?" she questions.

Asking me if I've heard of her is like asking me if I know who America's president is. Ever since I ran away from my foster home over a year ago, there hasn't been a single day that I haven't heard other homeless folks whispering her name like it's either a curse or a prayer.

La Strega, La Strega, La Strega.

It's one of the few Italian words I've come to know...and it translates to 'the witch' in English.

Chapter Two

Penelope

THE RAIN'S COME TOa complete stop by the time we arrive at the airport, and I follow behindLa Stregaas we climb the airsteps leading up to her private five-seater jet. The old me would have taken a million pictures by now, but a lot has changed since then...the first of which is not having my own cellphone like I used to.

I feel myself growing numb as I fasten my seatbelt, and it's only when the pilot announces we're about to take off forBostonthat I find out where we're going.

Not good, dude.

I've watched my share of murder-and-slasher flicks, and the only reason bad guys (or badwitchesin this case) let their captives knowwherethey're being taken is because they also know those poor souls won't live long enough to tattle.

A cabin attendant pops by my seat as soon as the light for the seatbelt sign switches off. "The shower is ready for your use,signorina."

"I'm not—-"

La Stregalooks at me. "Do take a shower.Please."

"But—-"

"To put it bluntly,bambina—-you need one.Per favore."

It's easy to figure out those words mean 'please'...and it's equally easy to understand that her words aren't really a request.

Oh well.

I do kinda stink, anyway, and so I unfasten my seatbelt and dutifully follow behind the cabin attendant, who introduces herself as Rita as she gives me a quick tour ofLa Strega'sjet. The one bedroom available on board is for thesignora'sprivate use, the pantry is on the other end, and as we finally make it to our last stop—-

"We've prepared toiletries and fresh towels," Rita says as she opens the door to the shower, "and there's also a selection of dresses to choose from."

"Thanks, Rita."

"Just call out if you need anything else."

Translation:I'm on strict orders to make sure you no longer stink by the time we land.

I close the door on Rita's smiling face, and in a matter of minutes, I've officially joined the mile-high club for showers.

Yay for me.

In my old life, this would've made me the envy of everyone in school, and it almost makes me want to fool myself into thinking that today can be the start of a good thing.

Almost.

But Ican't...since bad memories have already crawled out of the woodwork, and I nearly hyperventilate in my effort not to let a single sob out.

Stop! Stop! Stop!