Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“Okay.”

“Mrs. Nuru wanted you to come in today.” Rose felt Melly’s fingers tighten on her hand. “She likes you a lot, you know.”

“Maybe Ms. Canton will be there, like a surprise.”

Rose felt a twinge. “No, she won’t, Mel. But she’ll call you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I hope. When she can.” Rose fell in behind a first-grade boy and his mother, and he glanced behind him to see who was there. When he realized he didn’t know them, he turned away, then back again, an obvious double-take at Melly’s birthmark. “Mel, don’t let it bother you if people bug you today. It could happen, with the fire and all.”

“Will Amanda be there?”

“No, she’s still in the hospital.”

“What about Emily and Danielle?”

“Yes, I assume. You can just steer clear of them, if you want. Are you worried about them bothering you?”

“No. I’ll use my Protego charm. It makes a shield against them. Or sometimes I just tell myself they’re just Slytherins. Amanda is like Draco Malfoy, and Emily and Danielle are Crabbe and Goyle.”

Rose was about to reply, but Mr. Rodriguez was coming toward them in a jacket and tie, his suit pants flapping. “Melly, here’s Mr. Rodriguez.”

“Hello, Rose! Hi, Melly!” Mr. Rodriguez made a beeline for them, and Rose met him, shaking his hand.

“Good to see you again.”

“You, too.” Mr. Rodriguez bent down to talk to Melly. “I’m glad to see you on your feet, and I’m glad you came to school today.”

“I’m not sick, and I have to go to school. Is Ms. Canton coming?”

“No, she had to go home,” Mr. Rodriguez answered, without missing a beat. He tousled her hair, which Rose knew she hated, because it exposed her birthmark. “Mrs. Nuru’s inside waiting for you, and she’s proud you came, too.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Wanna walk with me?”

“Can my mom come?”

“She’s going to her own assembly, with the parents.” Mr. Rodriguez’s hand remained extended, like an unanswered question.

“Melly, go with Mr. Rodriguez, and I’ll see you later, okay? Love you.” Rose let go of Melly’s hand and bunny-dipped to give her a clumsy kiss, which she returned with an awkward hug, wrapping her arms around Rose and the wiggling baby.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, John.”

“Bye, sweetie. We love you.”

Rose lingered, watching Melly trundle along, her pink-and-purple Harry Potter backpack bumping up and down. The vice principal, the guidance counselor, the librarian, and the gym teacher all came forward to meet her, greeting her with open arms and broad smiles. Rose felt a rush of gratitude for their kindness, praying that Melly would be okay. Sometimes, it was the most a mother could do.

Mommy!

Ten minutes later, Rose had joined the parents waiting in the hallway to go into the auditorium. Windows filled the corridor with light, reminding her of the skylights in the cafeteria, before they’d exploded into shards, but she told herself to get a grip. John made an adorable armful, smiling up at her and reaching up to play the got-your-nose game. She caught his outstretched hand and gave it a kiss, glad of something to do.

The line of parents shifted forward, and Rose shifted, too, wiggling her index finger with John’s finger curled around it. He giggled behind his pacifier, and she would have talked to him, doing her life narration routine, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She didn’t know the parents ahead of her in line; two were men in casual dress with the yellow ID lanyards of Homestead employees, and the other was a woman in a pantsuit, paging through her email with a skilled thumb.

They reached the doors to the auditorium, which were propped open, and Rose could hear the harsh noise of a microphone being bumped around and someone saying, “testing, one, two, three.” The men went inside, then the woman with the BlackBerry, and Rose with John. The auditorium was packed to bursting, with standing room only, and the air conditioning struggled to cool so many bodies. Rose found a place in the crowd under the balcony, happy to be less conspicuous. She dreaded seeing Danielle’s mother, or Emily’s, and wanted to avoid any confrontations.

The stage curtain was closed, with its blue-and-white pattern in school colors, and the gym teacher was at the podium adjusting the microphone while Mr. Rodriguez ushered a group of public officials into brown folding chairs. The audience talked, finished cell phone calls, or wrote last-minute texts and emails, the artificial light from their various hand-helds illuminating their faces from below.

Mr. Rodriguez took the podium, tapping the microphone and making a bonk sound. “Good morning, everyone,” he began, and though Rose couldn’t see his expression at a distance, his voice sounded heavy with the gravity of the occasion. “Thank you all for coming. I know these last few days have been very difficult for all of you, as they have for all of us in the school community. We have a lot to get to, so let’s get started, because I know many of you have questions and we want to address as many as we can in this next hour.”

“Damn!” said a well-dressed woman, standing near to Rose. She was typing on her iPhone, her head down. “I’ll never get used to this thing. My daughter wants a dress for her American Girl doll, but I can’t work this touch screen, to order one.”

Rose didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to risk being recognized, and she never talked while someone else was speaking. It was a pet peeve of hers, and she was always surprised at how rude people could be, even adults. She kept her eyes forward.

Up on the stage, Mr. Rodriguez was saying, “However, we cannot begin our program until we honor these three precious lives we have lost, each of whom was special to our community in her own way. I’m speaking, of course, of Marylou Battle, Ellen Conze, and Serena Perez. To lead us in a moment of silence, let me introduce a man who needs no introduction, the Mayor of Reesburgh, Leonard Krakowski. Mayor Krakowski?” Mr. Rodriguez stepped aside, gesturing at Mayor Krakowski, a short, bald man in a dark suit and tie, who seemed to scoot to the podium.

“I miss my buttons.” The woman with the iPhone kept talking, still fussing with the keypad. “But I love this gadget, otherwise. I’m a real gadget hound. You have an iPhone?”

“No,” Rose answered, to shut the woman up.

Mayor Krakowski bent the microphone down to his height, then cleared his throat. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Like all of you, I am positively grief-stricken over the loss of these wonderful women, and over the weekend, I took the time to mourn them and reflect on the meaning of their lives, and of all of our lives. Ironically, it’s a tragedy like this when a town like Reesburgh can be at its best, because we all come together, as a family.”

“Do you have a daughter or son?” The woman kept tapping her iPhone, but her voice made heads turn in the back row.

“A daughter,” Rose whispered, getting nervous.

Mayor Krakowski continued, “Let us pause for a moment of silence this morning, to honor these fine women and reflect upon all they meant to all of us, and to our community as a whole.” He bent his head, as did most of the crowd. There was the sound of a sniffle or two, though the woman with the iPhone kept fussing with the touch screen. Rose looked down, cuddling John so he’d stay quiet, but there was rustling in the back row as more people turned around and glanced in their direction. She hoped they were looking at the woman next to her.

“Is your daughter into American Girl, too?” the woman asked, turning to her.

“Shh,” Rose whispered, but the woman’s eyes widened slightly.