I press the marker
until it bleeds in
as much ink
as the paper can hold,
and my hand cramps
and shakes,
and there’s not a speck
of white
left.
Then, with black,
I make one tiny heart.
That’s me,
pressed all around
by red.
I drop the marker.
Everyone’s out at recess.
Ms. Dryden comes over.
“Finished your abstract portrait, Essie?”
I nod.
She takes it.
“Do you want me to try again?” I ask.
“No, Essie.” She wipes her eyes.
“I think you did
one fine job.”
Spelling Test
“Realize,” says Ms. Dryden.
I write the word.
How can
I decide not to be a victim,
when people do horrible stuff
to me?
I couldn’t stop Dad.
I couldn’t stop Mr. Paul.
” Reconsider.”
I write quickly.
They did bad stuff to me.
What I have now
is a bunch of hate.
“Responsible.”
The hate is mine.
At least it’s better
than being
a scaredy-cat.
“Regard.”
But it hurts all my insides.
Hate is burny.
“Reaching.” Is there even a way
to get rid of hate?
If I ever felt like it?
“Remember.”
Would I still feel
like a victim
if I got rid of it?
“Pass your papers forward.”
A Little Room Left to Be Scared
A hand on my shoulder.
I yelp.
“Hey, Essie.” Wally steps
around the swing.
“You need to chill like a Vulcan.
What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shiver
and look over my shoulder
across the playground.
“I-I don’t know.
I just didn’t hear you walk up is all.”
Wally sits down on the seat
next to me.
I push back
and we swing real slow.
He keeps looking at me.
“No one’s going to kidnap you,”
he says.
“I know.” I try to laugh.
“I know that.”
But someone might try
to hurt me again.
I tug my braids.
“It’s okay, Essie.”
I nod.
With him here,
it almost feels
like it is.
Sitting Out
“Come on” says Wally.
I follow him to the monkey bars.
“We are doing
this super cool play in drama.”
“Sweet”
“Yeah.”
He climbs to the top.
I swing myself up next to him.
“It’s a short scene
from The Odyssey.
You know that really old Greek story?”
“Maybe.” I grip the warm bar.
“Well I’m Cyclops.”
“Who?”
“The giant guy with one eye.”
“Gross!”
“Totally. I hope my parents
can come. They promised to.
Maybe they’d pick you up
if you wanted to see it too.”
“Sure! That’d be cool!”
We watch everyone
running around playing.
Up here I can see all the way
to the bus lot.
There’s no one around
to hurt me.
I could see that if I
were a Cyclops.
Presentation
“And you chop them.”
Jarin cuts through the tomatoes.
Pink juice and slimy seeds
run off the cutting board.
“You add these to the lettuce,
and toss.”
She makes a big show
of stirring up the salad.
I roll my eyes at Wally,
and he does it back.
Jarin presents the bowl.
“That looks delicious,” says Ms. Dryden.
“You can have it for your lunch,” says Jarin.
“Thank you. It’ll taste wonderful,
I’m sure.
Class, you can have reading time
while we clean up the table”
I pick up my book. Like making a salad is such a big deal
it counts for a presentation?
Unbelievable.
Wally’s potato clock
was so way better.
And my clay ziggurat pyramid
with all the cool stairs
I built with Dad
back in October
blows her salad away.
I wish I could tell Dad
how lame Jarin’s presentation was.
He loved our ziggurat.
We had a blast making it.
Does he remember
having fun
with me?
In the Reading Corner
Just because
there are divorce papers
and Mom is looking for a lawyer
doesn’t mean Dad won’t ever come back still.
Oh, give it up
and get back to the fairy tale.
Help
Mom makes chocolate chip cookies,
then goes and asks Ms. Ruthie over.
“Well, hey,” she says, coming in
behind Mom.
“Hi.”
“Why don’t you run along, Estele.
I need to chat with Ms. Ruthie.”
“Okay.”
I hide in the hall.
While the teakettle burbles,
I hear Mom ask,
“Ruthie, I was thinking,
well, that you might have time,
or,
I mean,
would you even consider
being my labor partner?”
She goes on without letting Ms. Ruthie
say a thing.
“I have acquaintances in our church, of course,
but they’re busy with their families.
I can’t ask the pastor’s wife.
Her schedule is so full.
And coaching requires time.
So, I guess I’m asking
if you would be interested
in helping me?”
Sweeeeeeee, the kettle shrieks,
so I can’t hear Ms. Ruthie’s answer.
Yes, yes, yes,
I beg silently.
The kettle is quiet.
Sip.
Sip.
Sip.
“Yes, I would be happy to,” says Ms. Ruthie.
I let out the biggest sigh.
“Estele?” Mom calls.
I skitter to my room
before she knows for sure
I listened in
on the best news we’ve had
in a super long time.
Fast Friends
They talk for hours.
I wander around acting like
I’m not listening in,
but I finally just sit down on the couch
and neither one even notices.
Ms. Ruthie is real kind
about our sensitive situation, as she calls it.
Mom is sweet, listening to all about
Ms. Ruthie’s husband dying.
Sounds like they’ll never get done
getting to know each other.
Breaking News Flash
After Ms. Ruthie finally leaves, I click on the TV.
“To recap: Chris Crow has been found. A local family rescued the child, who was lying on the roadside in the Everglades with multiple burns and gunshot wounds. Chris is currently under protection in the intensive care unit at Baptist Hospital. To the great relief of his family and the community at large, Chris Crow has been found.”
The Goodness
“Mom!” I yell.
“Mom!”
She and Dale rush into the living room.
“They found Chris!
Alive!”
The goodness of it
zaps us.
We hug each other
and jump up and down.
Chris is found!
Statistics
“Wally, they found Chris!”
I yell into the phone.
“I heard!”
“Can you believe it?”
“Yep. I knew they would.”
“Even with Rock saying all that other stuff?”
“What good are statistics
without the exception?”
What?
Sometimes I just don’t follow Wally.
“Well, the news is coming on.
I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.
“See ya!”
Five O’Clock News
“Cigarette burns covered Chris’s body, and the child had been shot twice from behind. One bullet entered his back and exited the front torso below the rib cage. The second bullet went into his head and exited through the right eye socket. The child has lost one eye, is dehydrated and emaciated, and has suffered blood loss. Initial surgery has been successful.
“The parents presented the reward with thanks to the family who found Chris in the Everglades. The Crows express gratitude to the community for their prayers, concerns, and support. Again, our top story tonight: Chris Crow has been found. Alive.”
How?
“Incredible!” Mom says.
“Wow! A bullet can go into your back
and squirt out your front—,” says Dale.
“That’s enough.” Mom cuts him off.
“And another can slam into your head
and then shoot out your eyeball—”
“Dale—”
“His eyeball is totally blasted out.
What would that big hole look like?”
“To your room, Dale-o.”
Mom steers him down the hall.
I sit there wondering
the same things
Dale said out loud.
One Prayer Answered
God brought Chris back to his family.
Shot and burned,
but He brought him back.
One prayer answered.
God hasn’t brought Dad back.
One prayer unanswered.
Or maybe …
maybe I’m getting an answer
I didn’t want.
Maybe
Dad’s not coming back.
And what about
Mr. Paul?
The police can’t find
a trace of him.
He’s definitely long gone.
That Family
That family found Chris.
There was a mom,
three kids,
and a dad.
Did one of those kids
pray for extra money
for their family?
Because they got it.
They got the money
and they already have
both parents.
Man. What a deal
for them.
And Chris, of course.
January 8th
I draw a big yellow smiley face
on the 8th.
The very day
they found Chris.
Perfect.
The star on the 28th
tries to get me to look at it.
Nope.
I’m just going to smile back
at the 8th.
A great day.
He’ll Pay
Mom comes into the kitchen
and grins at the smiley face I drew.
“They really found Chris,” she says.
“Yeah.” I drag my toes over the linoleum.
“But what about them
not finding … Mr. Paul, Mom?”
She puts her arm on my shoulder.
“I truly don’t believe
he’ll ever come back, Estele.
He wouldn’t be able to look us in the eye,
not after betraying so many years of friendship.”
“Or maybe he won’t come back
because he’s too afraid of getting caught
and punished.”
“I’m sure,” she agrees.
“But what if he doesn’t ever get punished?”
“Oh, he’ll pay eventually, Estele.
One day, he will be severely punished.
Just like Chris’s kidnapper.
Even if they don’t get it on earth,
they’ll have to face it afterward.”
That
is very good news.
A Miracle
All the classes are running around
before school starts,
buzzing with Chris’s news.
“Did you see the report?” asks Wally.
“Yeah,” I say.
I lean against the tetherball pole.
Wally slaps the ball back and forth.
“I heard one bullet came out his eye,” he says.
“Yeah, through the back of his head
and out his eye.”
“Gross,” he says. “Just a hole there now.”
I nod. “And another bullet
went through his chest,” I add.
“It’s like a miracle or something,” Wally says.
“And the way that family found him
by the road,” I say.
“A miracle,” says Wally.
“Yeah. I bet they could use
that reward money.”
“Who couldn’t?”
“Really.”
My Own
It’s kind of a miracle to me
Mr. Paul
didn’t hurt me more.
He could have done that worse stuff.
There’s no way
I’m telling Wally
about my miracle.
But it’s a real one too.
Very real.
And mine.
Wonderful News
Before we get to our desks
Ms. Dryden says,
Everyone says, “Yeah.”
“What wonderful news,” she says.
“Wonderful, wonderful news.”
She rubs her amber between
her thumb and finger.
“Chris has been found.”
We look at his desk,
and there’s a moment of silence
even though Ms. Dryden
didn’t tell us to have one.
Our Class
Everyone makes
Get Well
and Welcome Home cards.
There is so much glue, paste, and glitter
going around that
we are sparkling
for Chris.
His Friends
“I can’t wait till he gets back!”
“When’s he coming back?”
“I don’t think they’ve said yet.”
“He’s got to get out of the hospital first.”
“Right.”
“Well, when he does get back,
we are going to start winning
basketball games again!”
“And kickball games!”
“It will be so cool to have Chris back!”
It will be cool
to have him sitting safe
right in front of me
like normal.
She
Knows
Mrs. Lyon waves from her car
as we pull into our driveway
after school.
I stay in my seat.
“Hi, Mrs. Lyon!” yells Dale
as he leaps out
and runs over to her.
She gets out and gives him a squeeze.
“Here, help me with this, Dale.”
She hands him a grocery bag
to carry in.
“Hi, Jayni.” Mom walks over.
“I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Oh, I wanted to pop in for only a second.
The ladies made you a few desserts.”
“How generous! Estele,” Mom calls.
“Come say hi.”
I get out
and knock the car door closed
with my behind.
I can’t move anymore.
Mrs. Lyon knows
about Mr. Paul.
But I don’t have to move.
She hurries over
and puts an arm around my waist.
“Let’s go see what’s in the bag, Essie.”
I nod. “Isn’t it great about Chris, Mrs. Lyon?”
“Answered prayer!” she says.
We follow Mom and Dale inside
and dig into some brownies
before we even eat dinner.
They are so sweet.
Mrs. Lyon stays and visits for a while
and never does say anything
about Mr. Paul.
She’s as sweet
as the brownies.
Every Night
Mom, Dale, and I
never miss the news.
It tells us how Chris is doing.
If he’s had surgery,
how it went,
and when they hope he’ll get to go home.
Which keeps getting delayed
because of complications.
I’m always hoping to hear that the kidnapper’s been caught.
Hoping,
hoping,
and praying
about him
and Mr. Paul.
A Good Day
A on my capitals test,
kicked the ball—
got to second base in PE,
scrubbed our desks,
finished The Wizard of Oz,
dissected a lima bean,
saw the baby plant inside,
planted another,
got to feed Scurvy,
found a baby mango on the tree,
Dale took a bath,
scrubbed behind his own ears
while I cooked
scrambled eggs in ketchup for dinner,
rubbed Mom’s puffy feet,
and had a cool breeze at bedtime.
Won’t Be Long
“It won’t be long,” says Mom.
I look up from my cereal.
“Till Chris can leave the hospital?”
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin.
“I meant it won’t be long
till the baby comes.
I’m seeing the midwife weekly now.”
Dale and I look at each other.
“Cool,” he says.
I just work on
getting the raisin