been in the kitchen . . . ? She couldn't remember.
Maggie managed, "Why am I lying on my face?"
'There was an explosion." Lane's voice this time, not Helen's. From somewhere above Maggie. "In the kitchen. We all thought you were dead, because you were working in there. Helen was practically hysterical. We didn't know you'd left. You're very, very lucky, Maggie." Lane's voice moved closer. "Does it feel like you have any broken bones?"
Maggie didn't know what a broken bone felt like. Probably really painful. Like the way her nose felt? Was her nose broken? "An explosion?" She was speaking directly into a pile of debris. Wood and plaster, all in chunks and pieces. Like in the basement. Had another ceiling collapsed? "Is anyone else hurt?"
"A bunch of people who were waiting in line at the barbecue cart." Helen's voice again. Still shaking. "There are ambulances on the way."
"Fire? Is there a fire?"
"No. There was, but some men put it out already. Whit and Alex and Scout helped. Don't talk, Maggie," Helen whispered, as if she didn't want anyone
else to hear. "They think there was a gas leak in the kitchen."
''Where's my mom? Was my mom hurt? I would like to see my mother right now, please."
"Oh, god, Maggie, she's not here." Helen certainly sounded like she was crying. "She and your dad are already delivering the stuff that people bought. They didn't want to have to pack it up tonight. Your mom had just left when the kitchen blew up."
Maggie tried, very gingerly, to turn her face to the other side, but the piece of wood stabbed her viciously. She lay still. She was very cold, although someone had covered her with a jacket or heavy sweater. She could feel it lying across her shoulders. "The kitchen blew up?"
"Someone said the stove in there was really old." Helen sighed heavily. "I don't know, Maggie, maybe your mom will give up now. This place was bad enough before, but now ..."
But Maggie was still trying to grasp the information Helen had given her. A gas leak? The smell ... that sweetish, sickening smell... that had been gas fumes, the telltale odor overpowered by the smell of barbecue. The fumes must have caused her mother's headache, her own headache, her churning stomach. If the barbecue cart hadn't been right outside the open window, maybe she or her mother would have recognized the fumes for what they were before it was too late.
But if her stomach hadn't been upset, she wouldn't have left the kitchen. In a bizarre way,
the same gas fumes that had caused the explosion had saved her life by making her ill. That struck Maggie as funny, and she laughed softly to herself. The pain was excruciating, so she stopped laughing.
A siren screamed that help had arrived. Maggie's eyes closed in relief.
She learned at the hospital that she had no concussion. "A miracle/' the doctor who examined her said when she told him she'd been tossed into the wall headfirst. "You must have a thick skull, you lucky girl."
Maggie wasn't feeling very lucky. The only thing she was feeling was pain. The wood shard on which she had landed had gouged a shallow gash in her left cheek, alongside her nose. No stitches required, but the nurse's careful cleaning of the wound brought tears to Maggie's eyes. Both forearms had been badly bruised when she hit the wall, and the impact had pulled loose the stitches on her earlier wound. Having it sewn up a second time was worse than having the wood splinter pulled from her cheek.
Because her parents still hadn't arrived, her friends were allowed in the small white cubicle when her treatment was completed.
"I heard a fireman tell someone it was probably a leaking gas pipe," Helen said. "I can't believe the whole building didn't go up in flames, like Lane's mother was always saying it would."
"Whit, Scout, and Alex were so brave. They jumped right in to help." Lane gave Whit a brilliant smile, neglecting to include Scout. Both faces were
gray with grime, their eyes red-rimmed.
"Wasn't that
Maggie managed, "Why am I lying on my face?"
'There was an explosion." Lane's voice this time, not Helen's. From somewhere above Maggie. "In the kitchen. We all thought you were dead, because you were working in there. Helen was practically hysterical. We didn't know you'd left. You're very, very lucky, Maggie." Lane's voice moved closer. "Does it feel like you have any broken bones?"
Maggie didn't know what a broken bone felt like. Probably really painful. Like the way her nose felt? Was her nose broken? "An explosion?" She was speaking directly into a pile of debris. Wood and plaster, all in chunks and pieces. Like in the basement. Had another ceiling collapsed? "Is anyone else hurt?"
"A bunch of people who were waiting in line at the barbecue cart." Helen's voice again. Still shaking. "There are ambulances on the way."
"Fire? Is there a fire?"
"No. There was, but some men put it out already. Whit and Alex and Scout helped. Don't talk, Maggie," Helen whispered, as if she didn't want anyone
else to hear. "They think there was a gas leak in the kitchen."
''Where's my mom? Was my mom hurt? I would like to see my mother right now, please."
"Oh, god, Maggie, she's not here." Helen certainly sounded like she was crying. "She and your dad are already delivering the stuff that people bought. They didn't want to have to pack it up tonight. Your mom had just left when the kitchen blew up."
Maggie tried, very gingerly, to turn her face to the other side, but the piece of wood stabbed her viciously. She lay still. She was very cold, although someone had covered her with a jacket or heavy sweater. She could feel it lying across her shoulders. "The kitchen blew up?"
"Someone said the stove in there was really old." Helen sighed heavily. "I don't know, Maggie, maybe your mom will give up now. This place was bad enough before, but now ..."
But Maggie was still trying to grasp the information Helen had given her. A gas leak? The smell ... that sweetish, sickening smell... that had been gas fumes, the telltale odor overpowered by the smell of barbecue. The fumes must have caused her mother's headache, her own headache, her churning stomach. If the barbecue cart hadn't been right outside the open window, maybe she or her mother would have recognized the fumes for what they were before it was too late.
But if her stomach hadn't been upset, she wouldn't have left the kitchen. In a bizarre way,
the same gas fumes that had caused the explosion had saved her life by making her ill. That struck Maggie as funny, and she laughed softly to herself. The pain was excruciating, so she stopped laughing.
A siren screamed that help had arrived. Maggie's eyes closed in relief.
She learned at the hospital that she had no concussion. "A miracle/' the doctor who examined her said when she told him she'd been tossed into the wall headfirst. "You must have a thick skull, you lucky girl."
Maggie wasn't feeling very lucky. The only thing she was feeling was pain. The wood shard on which she had landed had gouged a shallow gash in her left cheek, alongside her nose. No stitches required, but the nurse's careful cleaning of the wound brought tears to Maggie's eyes. Both forearms had been badly bruised when she hit the wall, and the impact had pulled loose the stitches on her earlier wound. Having it sewn up a second time was worse than having the wood splinter pulled from her cheek.
Because her parents still hadn't arrived, her friends were allowed in the small white cubicle when her treatment was completed.
"I heard a fireman tell someone it was probably a leaking gas pipe," Helen said. "I can't believe the whole building didn't go up in flames, like Lane's mother was always saying it would."
"Whit, Scout, and Alex were so brave. They jumped right in to help." Lane gave Whit a brilliant smile, neglecting to include Scout. Both faces were
gray with grime, their eyes red-rimmed.
"Wasn't that
Similar Books
