Only Child(6)




“ZACH, WHERE’S ANDY? Where did he sit down?” Mommy stood up and looked all around. I wanted her to keep hugging me, and I wanted to tell her about the POP sounds and all the blood and the people lying in the hallway like maybe real-life dead people. I wanted to ask her why a gunman came and what happened to the people back at the school. I wanted us to leave this cold church with Jesus and the nails in his hands and feet.

I didn’t see Andy today. I almost never see Andy at school after we get off the bus until we get back on the bus when school is done because we don’t have lunch or recess at the same time, the older kids always go out before us. When we see each other at school by accident, like in the hallway when my class goes this way and his class goes that way, he ignores me and pretends like he doesn’t know me and I’m not even his brother.

When I started kindergarten, I was worried because a lot of my friends from preschool were going to Jefferson and I didn’t know many kids at McKinley. I was happy Andy was already there, in fourth grade. He could show me where everything was, and I wouldn’t feel scared with him there. Mommy said to Andy, “Make sure you keep an eye on your little brother. Help him!” But he didn’t.

“Stay away from me, little creep!” he yelled when I tried to talk to him, and his friends laughed, so then I did that, stay away.

“Zach, where’s your brother?” Mommy asked again, and she started walking up and down the middle walkway. I tried to walk with her and hold on to her hand, but there were people everywhere in the walkway now, calling names and getting in between us. I had to let go of Mommy’s hand because it hurt my shoulder to keep holding on.

I didn’t think about Andy all day since the bus, only when Mommy asked me about him. I didn’t think about Andy when the POP sounds started, or when we were hiding in the closet, or when we walked through the hallway and out the back door. I tried to remember when I looked back and saw the older kids walking behind me if maybe Andy was one of the faces I saw, but I didn’t know.

Mommy was turning all around now, faster, and her head was going left, right, left, right. I caught up with her in the front of the church by the altar table and tried to take her hand again, but at the same time she moved her arm up and put her hand on a policeman’s arm. So I put my hands in my pockets to make them warmer and stood close to Mommy. “I can’t find my son. Are all the kids in here?” she asked the policeman. Her voice sounded different, squeaky, and I looked up at her face to see why she sounded like that. Her face had red dots around her eyes, and her lips and chin were shaking, probably because she got all wet and cold from the rain, too.

“There will be an official announcement in a few minutes, ma’am,” the policeman said to Mommy. “Please have a seat if you have a missing child, and wait for the announcement.”

“A missing—?” Mommy said, and she touched the top of her head with her hand hard, like she hit herself. “Oh my God. Jesus!”

I looked up to where Jesus was on the cross after Mommy said his name. Right then Mommy’s phone started to ring in her bag. She jumped and dropped the bag, and some things fell out on the floor. Mommy went down on her knees and looked in her bag for her phone. I started to pick up her things, some papers and the car keys and a lot of coins that went rolling in between people’s feet. I tried to get them all before someone else could take them.

Mommy’s hands were shaking like Miss Russell’s earlier in the closet when she found her phone and answered it. “Hello?” Mommy said into the phone. “At the church on Lyncroft. It’s where they took the kids. Andy’s not here! Oh my God, Jim, he’s not in the church! Yes, I have Zach.” Mommy started to cry. She was on her knees right in front of the altar table, and it looked like she was praying, because that’s what people do when they pray, kneel down like that. I stood in front of Mommy and touched her shoulder and rubbed it up and down to make her stop crying. My throat started to feel really tight.

Mommy said, “I know, OK, all right. I know, OK,” into the phone and, “OK, see you in a few,” and then she put the phone in her coat pocket and pulled me close to her and hugged me, too tight, and cried in my neck. Her breathing felt hot on my neck and it tickled, but it also felt good because it was warm, and I was feeling colder and colder.

I wanted to hold still when Mommy was hugging me and stay close to her, but I had to move side to side because I still had to pee badly. “I have to go to the bathroom, Mommy,” I said. Mommy pushed away from me and stood up. “Baby, not now,” she said. “Let’s go sit down somewhere until Daddy gets here and until they make the announcement.” But there was nowhere to sit down with all the kids on the benches, so we walked to the side of the church and Mommy leaned with her back up against the wall and squeezed my hand tight. I kept moving side to side and tried to balance on my tippy-toes because my dinky hurt so bad from having to pee. I was scared I was going to go pee in my pants. That would be really embarrassing in front of everyone.

Mommy’s phone started ringing again in her pocket. Mommy took it out and she said to me, “It’s Mimi,” and then she answered the phone. “Hi, Mom!” Right when she said that she started crying again. “I’m here now, with Zach….He’s fine, he’s OK. But Andy’s not here, Mom. No, he’s not here, I can’t find him….They’re not telling us anything yet….They said they’re making an announcement soon.” Mommy was pressing the phone to her ear hard. I could see the knuckles on her fingers were all white from squeezing the phone so hard. She listened to Mimi talking on the phone and she shook her head yes, and tears were running down her face. “OK, Mom, I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do….He’s coming, he’s on his way. No, don’t come yet. I think they’re only letting parents in right now. OK, I will. I’ll call you then. OK, love you, too.”

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