“Did you hear news, Mrs. Reese?” one of the nurses asked in her broken English.
“What?”
“Mrs. Collins…she call in sick with flu. She won’t be in all day. Christmas miracle!”
For the rest of the morning, the folks of Shady Pines were excited about the pageant the way children are the night before Christmas. Christopher’s mother tried her best to join in their festive mood. Since it was her son’s last day of school before “winter” break, she was planning to whisk him away after the pageant and take him to whatever movie he wanted—her good taste be damned. Then, they would spend the whole weekend decorating their very own home for Christmas.
But she couldn’t shake it.
That uneasy feeling.
“Hi, Mrs. Reese.”
Christopher’s mother turned and saw Mary Katherine walking through the door. The girl looked scared. This was nothing new, of course. Poor Mary Katherine was so skittish, so guilty, so unbelievably Catholic that sometimes, she said the Lord’s Prayer before her dessert, thinking somehow her “these, Thy gifts” prayer before dinner didn’t last long enough. But this look was different. The girl was downright ashen.
“You okay, honey?” Christopher’s mother asked.
“Oh, yes. I’m fine,” the girl said.
But she wasn’t fine. The poor thing looked like she might burst into tears.
“You sure? You can talk to me.”
“I’m sure. Just a little sick to my stomach. That’s all.”
“Then go home. You already got your certificate. You don’t need to keep volunteering. No one will judge you, you know?”
“Yes, they will,” she said.
With that, Mary Katherine nodded a quick goodbye and slipped into Mrs. Keizer’s room to begin her volunteer shift. Christopher’s mother would have followed, but she was distracted by the noise from the parlor.
“They’re here! The children are here!” the voices yelled.
The excitement worked its way through the room as the school buses pulled into the parking lot. Within seconds, the doors opened, and the teachers did their best to shepherd the kids into single-file lines. Christopher’s mother instinctively looked for the kids she knew, but she couldn’t find them in the sea of wool knit caps and Steelers beanies.
The first person through the door was Ms. Lasko. Christopher’s mother had just seen her in the principal’s office when Christopher got into the fight with Brady Collins. It was only a few days ago, but she remembered that Ms. Lasko had looked healthy and vibrant and pink-faced.
The difference was shocking.
Ms. Lasko was pale and drawn. The bags under her eyes were so black that she looked like she’d been punched. She was so exhausted that Christopher’s mother didn’t think she had slept since the principal’s office. She looked as tired as…
As Christopher.
“Are you okay, Ms. Lasko?” Christopher’s mother asked.
“Oh. I’m fine. Thank you, Mrs. Reese. Just a little headache.”
That’s when Christopher’s mother noticed it. Ms. Lasko smelled like a fifth of vodka covered up with a gallon of peppermint mouthwash. Christopher’s mother knew that smell. She had grown up with it. That smell used to read her bedtime stories. And beat the shit out of her when she spilled things.
Christopher’s mother was ready to tell the other teachers that her son’s homeroom teacher was drunk as a skunk.
Except that Ms. Lasko wasn’t drunk.
She wasn’t even buzzed.
She looked like someone who was going through withdrawal.
Ms. Lasko turned back to the kids marching into the old folks home. She clapped her hands together to get their attention.
“Okay, kids,” she said. “Let’s go into the parlor.”
Christopher’s mother watched the kids trudge up the porch. She finally found Christopher and his friends in the sea of snow hats. The boys were acting like soldiers. Special Ed flanked Christopher, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. Mike stayed a few feet behind them to make sure no one snuck up. Matt walked out front like a scout.
The boys were playing army.
And Christopher was their king.
Christopher’s mother saw Matt enter the parlor first to make sure that everything was safe. Then, he nodded to Special Ed, who escorted Christopher into the old folks home. Mike turned around and scoped the entire scene. She had seen the sheriff do the same thing on their first date. She had witnessed that instinctive need to make sure the coast was clear.
But never in a seven-year-old.
Mike’s gaze finally found their enemy. Brady Collins and Jenny Hertzog looked at Christopher, then whispered to their friends. Christopher’s mother would have smiled at the antics except both sides were taking their roles so seriously, it unnerved her. This didn’t feel like a game.