A young man, around twelve I would say, opened the door. He was wearing much what I had been wearing just a moment ago. Dirty green t-shirt, ripped, grass stained jeans, and mussed up hair.

I lifted my hand in a pathetic little wave. “Um, hi there. What’s your name?”

“I think that’s the question I should be asking you.”

I retaliated. Geez. The kid was sharp. I laughed it off.

“I am Maisie Beatrice Hampton, and I’ve come to see my grandmother. Do you know of her?”

The little boy looked at me curiously, as if he were trying to read my face. “Wait.”

As soon as he disappeared my back slumped. God. How was I supposed to get past this body guard?

The little boy returned with a clipboard, and on it was a long piece of paper. “Hm…” He tapped his pencil on it. “Hampton, Marie… Harrisford, Virginia… Sorry, kiddo, you’re not on the list.”

List? Kiddo?

“I’m sorry, my real name isn’t Maisie.” I took a deep breath. “It’s Marie.” I looked up at him.

“Well, then come right in!”

What a strange kid.