Back in the parlor, Ms. Lasko sat down at the old upright piano and started warming up her hands by playing scales. Every now and then, she would stop and scratch her arm. At first, Christopher’s mother thought it was just another itch of withdrawal.
Until she saw Special Ed scratching his arm.
And Matt. And Mike.
Everyone but Christopher.
Christopher’s mother noticed that Brady and Jenny were scratching their arms, too. As were some of their friends. And a couple of teachers. She had seen illness and rashes travel around a school before. But this was ridiculous.
“Hey, boys…how are you feeling?” she asked.
“Good, Mrs. Reese. Fine.” Mike spoke first.
“Are you sure? You keep scratching your arm,” she said.
“Yeah. I guess Matt and I got poison ivy or something.” He shrugged.
In December? she thought but did not say. She touched his forehead instead.
“But you’re burning up. Do you want me to call your moms?”
“No. They’re really sick. It’s better if we’re here.”
“My mom, too,” Special Ed said.
Normally, Christopher’s mother would think there must be a flu going around. The same flu that made her son burn up with fever only a few days before. But nothing about this felt normal. She could tell that all of the boys seemed a little under the weather. Christopher especially.
“Christopher, are you okay?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom,” he said.
She instinctively put her hand to his forehead. What she felt shocked her. When she had checked his forehead that morning, he seemed fine. His forehead was even a little cool. And now he was burning up. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of his whole school, so she kept quiet. But in that moment, she decided there would be no movie. There would be bed and rest and visits to every doctor in the tristate area until someone could tell her what the hell was making her son so sick.
“Okay, honey. Go join your friends,” she said.
Christopher and his gang moved over to the piano as Ms. Lasko started playing the first song. It was a long musical introduction with her opening remarks about the proud tradition of the “Winter” (wink wink Christmas and Hanukkah) Pageant.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we are so pleased to be here at Shady Pines. I am your musical director, Ms. Lasko. We will be handing out the prizes for the Balloon Derby winners soon, but first…let’s go… Up on the Housetop!”
Upon the house, no delay, no pause
Clatter the steeds of Santa Claus;
Down thro’ the chimney with loads of toys
Ho for the little ones, Christmas joys.
The start of the children singing brought the rest of the old folks into the parlor. All except Ambrose Olson. He had barely left his room since they returned from visiting his family’s old house right after David’s funeral. The night nurse said Ambrose stayed up all night, reading, then fell into a deep sleep. He had specifically requested that he be woken up for the Christmas Pageant. He said he didn’t want to miss the children under any circumstances. But for some reason, when they went into the room, none of the nurses could wake him. They figured he was just exhausted from being up all night.
Or maybe he had the flu.
Leave her a dolly that laughs and cries,
One that can open and shut its eyes.
As laughter and song spread through the room, Christopher’s mother saw Mary Katherine push Mrs. Keizer in her wheelchair. The old woman seemed a lot more agitated than usual.
“There’s something wrong with you,” she said to Mary Katherine.
“Please, Mrs. Keizer,” Mary Katherine begged.
“You smell wrong. You’re different,” she said.
“Your grandson Brady is standing right over there. Let’s find you a nice seat, so you can watch him sing,” Mary Katherine offered.
“She’s dirty. This girl is dirty!” the old woman screamed.
Christopher’s mother quickly got the wheelchair out of Mary Katherine’s hands and parked it down the hallway.
“Mrs. Keizer, I don’t care if your daughter owns this place. You do not speak to anyone that way. Least of all our teenage volunteers. Do you understand me?”
The old woman was quiet for a moment, then she smiled at Christopher’s mother.
“Everything is wrong. You feel it, too,” she said calmly.
Christopher’s mother looked at the old woman sick with Alzheimer’s. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.
O! O! O! Who wouldn’t go.
O! O! O! Who wouldn’t go,
Upon the housetop, click! click! click!
Down thro’ the chimney with good St. Nick.
Christopher’s mother shook off the creeps. She locked off the old woman’s wheelchair,