been able to “rendezvous” with Laurel because she was sick and I wasn’t.
But then when she wasn’t sick anymore, I had to leave early for Mack and Ryan’s club basketball games.
But then today
Ms. March: People! People!
But nobody cared because
Pirate costumes and too much makeup and who stole my sword and where’s the flashlight for Tinkerbell and even more than that.
I was watching Ms. March and her tomato face get even more tomatoey.
Ms. March: PEOPLE!!!!!
And it was so loud that even the crew people stopped doing stuff.
Her hair was so big.
Ms. March in a very soft lots-of-heavy-breathing voice said: We don’t have time. We don’t have time for this.
It got louder and louder.
Ms. March: We don’t have time for this!
Everyone stopped talking and we were sort of looking at each other because she was maybe going to blow.
Ms. March: We don’t have time for this! We don’t have time for this!
And right about there is when she fell.
Bam.
Fell.
Flat.
Still breathing but on the floor.
Nobody moved.
Not even anyone.
And then, after a really long time
Peter Pan: Uh, Ms. March?
Ms. March:
Peter Pan again: Ms. March?
Ms. March:
Peter Pan: Somebody call an ambulance!
And chaos again.
People screaming, girls surrounding Ms. March’s up-and-down mass, boys running, set falling, and me just standing there.
Wondering.
What I should do.
I never know what to do.
So we all helped roll Ms. March over.
Including me.
She was alive still and someone thought maybe she was squishing herself and couldn’t breathe as well on her stomach.
No one was in charge because the Peter Pan kid had taken off along with a bunch of other people yelling for help and ambulances.
The ones of us left all just stood there looking at her.
I knew she should probably have her head propped up.
And we should probably talk to her.
Or see if she could talk.
I mean, you could tell she was breathing — the big mask necklace she wore was slowly moving up and down.
But everyone just stood there.
So
I
Knelt
Down
And
Put
Her
Head
In
My
Lap.
Everyone stepped closer.
Me: Ms. March, can you hear me?
Her:
Me, and I said it a little louder this time: Ms. March, can you hear me?
She moaned a bit and there was so much sweat dripping off her face. I tried to wipe it off with my sleeve.
Me: Ms. March?
Her: a louder moan.
Everyone stepped back and she sort of rolled a bit. But not over, just around or something.
I wiped more sweat off and I didn’t know what to do next.
What do I do next?
And I thought I should probably keep talking or get her to talk or respond or probably, probably sing.
That’s what Mom did for me when I was sick.
But Ms. March wasn’t sick.
She was almost dead or something.
But
Then what?
So I almost did it. I started to almost sing the song that got me the part: “Where Can I Turn for Peace?” I even said “Where . . .”
But then three ambulance guys were there and loud and move back and hang on, kid, let us take over and she’s all right. She’s going to be fine. Why don’t you kids go home for now. It looks like she’s just in shock a bit. A faint. Go home.
I sat there and watched from far away sort of.
And she was fine.
She sat up.
She said: Oh my!
They said: You’re going to be fine.
She said: No, I’m not. I’ve got a play to put on.
And that’s when I really did go home.
Since I’ve been seeing Dr. Benson things are sort of better.
Like yesterday I almost helped Mack with his math.
Mom was out shopping, Dad was at work, Ryan and I were on the couch watching TV, and Mack was behind us at the kitchen table.
Mack: I hate math.
Ryan: Shut up, Mack. I can’t hear.
Me:
And then we kept watching.
Mack: I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Mack was so uptight about everything.
He kept erasing and erasing and moaning and making noises.
Then he yelled: I HATE IT!
Ryan said: Holy crap, man. If you don’t shut your mouth I’m going to shut it for you.
But then when she wasn’t sick anymore, I had to leave early for Mack and Ryan’s club basketball games.
But then today
Ms. March: People! People!
But nobody cared because
Pirate costumes and too much makeup and who stole my sword and where’s the flashlight for Tinkerbell and even more than that.
I was watching Ms. March and her tomato face get even more tomatoey.
Ms. March: PEOPLE!!!!!
And it was so loud that even the crew people stopped doing stuff.
Her hair was so big.
Ms. March in a very soft lots-of-heavy-breathing voice said: We don’t have time. We don’t have time for this.
It got louder and louder.
Ms. March: We don’t have time for this!
Everyone stopped talking and we were sort of looking at each other because she was maybe going to blow.
Ms. March: We don’t have time for this! We don’t have time for this!
And right about there is when she fell.
Bam.
Fell.
Flat.
Still breathing but on the floor.
Nobody moved.
Not even anyone.
And then, after a really long time
Peter Pan: Uh, Ms. March?
Ms. March:
Peter Pan again: Ms. March?
Ms. March:
Peter Pan: Somebody call an ambulance!
And chaos again.
People screaming, girls surrounding Ms. March’s up-and-down mass, boys running, set falling, and me just standing there.
Wondering.
What I should do.
I never know what to do.
So we all helped roll Ms. March over.
Including me.
She was alive still and someone thought maybe she was squishing herself and couldn’t breathe as well on her stomach.
No one was in charge because the Peter Pan kid had taken off along with a bunch of other people yelling for help and ambulances.
The ones of us left all just stood there looking at her.
I knew she should probably have her head propped up.
And we should probably talk to her.
Or see if she could talk.
I mean, you could tell she was breathing — the big mask necklace she wore was slowly moving up and down.
But everyone just stood there.
So
I
Knelt
Down
And
Put
Her
Head
In
My
Lap.
Everyone stepped closer.
Me: Ms. March, can you hear me?
Her:
Me, and I said it a little louder this time: Ms. March, can you hear me?
She moaned a bit and there was so much sweat dripping off her face. I tried to wipe it off with my sleeve.
Me: Ms. March?
Her: a louder moan.
Everyone stepped back and she sort of rolled a bit. But not over, just around or something.
I wiped more sweat off and I didn’t know what to do next.
What do I do next?
And I thought I should probably keep talking or get her to talk or respond or probably, probably sing.
That’s what Mom did for me when I was sick.
But Ms. March wasn’t sick.
She was almost dead or something.
But
Then what?
So I almost did it. I started to almost sing the song that got me the part: “Where Can I Turn for Peace?” I even said “Where . . .”
But then three ambulance guys were there and loud and move back and hang on, kid, let us take over and she’s all right. She’s going to be fine. Why don’t you kids go home for now. It looks like she’s just in shock a bit. A faint. Go home.
I sat there and watched from far away sort of.
And she was fine.
She sat up.
She said: Oh my!
They said: You’re going to be fine.
She said: No, I’m not. I’ve got a play to put on.
And that’s when I really did go home.
Since I’ve been seeing Dr. Benson things are sort of better.
Like yesterday I almost helped Mack with his math.
Mom was out shopping, Dad was at work, Ryan and I were on the couch watching TV, and Mack was behind us at the kitchen table.
Mack: I hate math.
Ryan: Shut up, Mack. I can’t hear.
Me:
And then we kept watching.
Mack: I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Mack was so uptight about everything.
He kept erasing and erasing and moaning and making noises.
Then he yelled: I HATE IT!
Ryan said: Holy crap, man. If you don’t shut your mouth I’m going to shut it for you.
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