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blocks to get there.”
    “Well, then that’s just as bad.”
    “I don’t want to move. And you guys do enough for me. It was my fault anyway.”
    “How could it be your fault?”
    “I tried to be a Good Samaritan and it backfired.”
    “I could kill you sometimes, you know that? You and your big mouth.”
    “But you love me for it, too.”
    “I don’t recall that growing up.”
    My sister and I are different in so many ways. Of course, since I’m adopted, we’re not biologically related. She is actually the biological child of my parents. My parents had just the two of us. Let me be clear—I was never meant to feel different in any way. My parents were equally strict with us. But while my older sister did everything they wanted—the perfect petite blonde with the perfect accountant husband, and the picturesque little family—I was always wandering. I was the redheaded mixed girl (of what, I don’t know, but I think some percentage of black and white. The point is, I was physically different) with gorgeous facial scars. I wasn’t born ugly, just different from the norm, and as if God thought I didn’t feel different enough, he got someone to mark my face up for that extra umph. I never could focus in school, though my teachers always said I was brilliant. That was the reason my parents put me in dance. They thought it would build my confidence because I hated going to school, hated how the kids mocked me, even though my popular older sister did what she could to protect me. They also hoped it would help expend some energy and improve my focus in school. It did expend energy, but I think their hopes backfired. They wanted dance to be a tool to make me compliant, and all it did was make my desires wander more.
    “So what happened?” she asked.
    “I was walking home and I saw some people hassling a guy. I said something and then they started picking on me too.”
    “Oh my god. Bird, I really could punch you in the head.”
    “What’s new?”
    “So did they take your things?”
    “No, the guy who I helped suddenly turned into Chuck Norris, punched one, and wrestled the other. It was insane. One of them stabbed him. The cops came just in the nick of time.”
    “The attacker had a knife? Oh my god.” If she was wearing pearls, she would be clutching them. “How many were there?”
    “There were two. And one did, obviously.”
    “Did the cops catch the guys?” Her voice quivered.
    “Yes. Right away. One was at the scene, the other didn’t get far because of the ass-whooping he got.”
    “I take it you’re pressing charges?”
    “I don’t have to. The detective called me yesterday to say they’re taking a plea. I’m glad I don’t have to go to trial. Apparently, they are repeat offenders, so they will be doing some real time.”
    “Yesterday? When did this happen?”
    “A few days ago.”
    “And you’re now just telling me?”
    “I didn’t want to worry you.”
    “You were just delaying the inevitable. I worry about you out there by yourself. You’re young and beautiful and alone, and that makes you a target. You know that. You’re so young to be out there alone.” My sister always tried to remind me how beautiful she thought I was. I rolled my eyes.
    “I’m not alone. I have friends here. And you should come visit. I think you have this image of a scary place. LA is full of humans just like Madison is.”
    “But you don’t have family out there.”
    “Yeah, well I don’t have family back home either.” I sensed the hurt in her silence. “You know I don’t mean you.”
    “I know.” There was a pause, but then she changed the subject back to the mugging. Well, that’s what I would call it from now on, especially with my sister. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what really could have happened, I didn’t want her to worry more than she already did. She was already a bit neurotic as things stood.
    “What happened to the guy who got stabbed?”
    “Apparently, he’s