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fashion advice. Besides, you were quite clear you didn’t want me as a mentor.”
     
    “Yeah, that’s the thing. Turns out if I’m not in the program then social services is going to step in and I don’t want that.” She looked at the phone in my hand. “Calling the cops is a bad plan.”
     
    “Is that a threat?” I asked, my voice turning a bit shrill.
     
    “No.” She looked disappointed in me. “It was advice. It would be best if you would start taking my advice instead of questioning everything. You know there’s no shame in taking advice. Lots of people need some help.” She turned back and headed toward the kitchen.
     
    “What are you doing?”
     
    “Checking out the rest of your place.” I watched her walk away. The girl thought she had some kind of special direct line to Princess Diana and wouldn’t leave my house. What was I waiting for her to do, find the knives in the kitchen and decide she was now channeling Hannibal Lector? I took the phone and dashed down the hall to the bathroom. It’s the only room with a locking door. I sat on the toilet and called 911.
     
    “Emergency Services: Fire, Police, or Ambulance?”
     
    “Police.”
     
    “Nature of your emergency?”
     
    “Break and enter. She’s still in the house too,” I hissed into the phone. I could hear the operator’s typing increase speed.
     
    “The intruder is still in the home. Is that correct?” She didn’t pause for me to answer. “Are you in a safe location or can you flee the area?”
     
    “I’m locked in the bathroom.”
     
    “Stay with me on the line. I’ve dispatched the police. You’re going to be okay.” I sat on the toilet grasping the phone while I listened to the crazy girl wandering around my place. I knew I should have insisted on an elementary school kid. Didn’t I tell that program coordinator we weren’t well suited? What was she doing out there?
     
    “Hey.” Diana called out, tapping on the door. “Are you coming out of there?”
     
    “The police are on their way. You should get out,” I yelled through the door, feeling ever so much braver now that I knew the cavalry was on its way.
     
    Diana sighed. “Seriously? I can’t believe you actually called the cops.”
     
    I heard knocking at the front door. Do the police knock? I pictured a much more dramatic entry.
     
    “Hello? Erin? Anyone home?” Jonathon called out from the entry way.
     
    “Jonathon, look out. There’s an intruder in the apartment.” I shouted.
     
    “Erin? Oh, my God, where are you?”
     
    I heard his steps echo on the hardwood floor as Jonathon wandered through the apartment.
     
    “Careful, Jonathon!” I pressed my ear against the door. Diana was tall, but I’m pretty sure Jonathon could take her if she went all psycho on him; she didn’t look too tough. She was a tiny birdy thing. That was when all hell broke loose.
     
    “POLICE!” The crash of the door slamming against the wall. A rush of footsteps. A loud “ooph” and a little-girl squeal sounded out as someone went down. I fumbled for the lock and yanked the door open. Jonathon lay on the floor with a burly police officer kneeling on his back, his arm pulled up at an unnatural angle behind him. He let out another squeal. The last time I had heard that kind of sound was a fourth grade slumber party.
     
    “Stay back, ma’am,” the officer yelled as he pressed down, squooshing Jonathon’s face into the floor. There was a brittle crack as the earpiece on his glasses gave way and a piece of plastic spun in circles across the floor.
     
    “Let him go! He’s not the person who broke in. She’s over there.” I pointed at Diana, who stood against the far wall looking over her fingernails as if getting a touch-up on her chewed fingernails was the most important thing going on.
     
    “What?” The officer looked up. “Her?” He stopped genuflecting on Jonathon’s back. He looked at Diana, who bowed her head and looked up at the officer