“You’re welcome, Daddy.” Finally, we’re moving. I want to get home and have my ice cream.
“Daddy, are you feeling good? Did you get sick at the game? It was such a good game. I ran so hard across the court, and when I threw the ball, it went so high and into the basket. That was so great, right, Daddy?”
“And when we get home, Mommy is going to want chocolate because that’s her favorite, but mine is vanilla with sprinkles. It has to have sprinkles, Daddy, okay?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That sounds so cool. Look how fast it comes back to me. This ball is awesome. I can’t wait to show Mommy this trick.
“Daddy, look. Look.”
“I see, buddy. Daddy’s trying to drive—yes, I’m paying attention, babe.”
Why is Daddy fibbing? That’s not nice.
“Daddy, pay attention!”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ssshhhhhh. I can’t hear him if I don’t talk, right? That’s what Adam said in school the other day. Adam’s so smart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Aaahhhh! Daddy, my ball.”
“Shit, honey, hold on.”
“Daddy, that’s a bad word.”
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
“Daddd, my ball. Get it. Get it. Pleeeaassseeee.”
What if it’s gone? What if it went out the window?
“Buddy, Daddy’s trying, please.”
Maybe he can’t hear me.
“Pleeeaaassseeee. I need it,” I scream even louder.
Yay! He got it! “Thanks, Daddy!” I think he’s smiling, but the light is in my eyes.
My ball flies out of my hand, and Daddy falls into the front window on my side of the car. The glass flies everywhere and scratches my face before I can get my hands up. The loud noises hurt my ears—it sounds like a dinosaur chewing on the cages in that movie and screeching like in the car racing shows Daddy watches. My body shakes in my booster, and it feels like we’re spinning, like on one of those rides at the carnival.
I want to cry, but it comes out as a scream and makes my throat hurt. I hear Daddy groaning and then everything stops spinning. It’s so quiet. My chest is doing that pounding thing like when I run really fast.
“Daddy?” I don’t hear him anymore.
“Hey, are you guys oka—” Who is that? “Someone call 911, now!”
“There’s a kid in the back.”
“Daddy, I’m scared.” My hands are on my face, and I don’t want to take them away, but my face starts to burn. Where’s Mommy? “Daddy, I need Mommy.” I wipe the tears when I move my hands.
“Kid, what’s your name? Are you okay?”
“Don’t move him.”
