Cold air rushes in. It feels like the ice rink. Sharp. Biting.
“Should we help them?” I ask.
My mom shakes her head and whispers, “No. They want to cheat, so this is the consequence.”
Through the window, I see movement. Shadows. Bodies colliding.
Someone’s fighting. Then I hear the voices and loud banging.
“Mom,” I say.
My mom grabs my hand. Hard. “No. We just wait.”
“Should we call the police?”
“No!” She snaps. “The neighbors will do that. Nobody can know we were here. Do you understand me? No one.”
Then a sound echoes through the neighborhood.
My mom gasps.
Was that a gunshot?
The noise has stopped for a moment. It’s dead quiet, the echo ringing through the air. Then a muffled scream. A child crying.
All the anger drains out of her. “Did you hear that?”
I can only stare at the house. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak.
My mom panics and starts the car. When she drives onto the road, she rolls past the house slowly without her headlights on.
That’s when I hear the screaming. A woman’s loud scream.
Inside the window, I see the man standing with the gun in front of him. I see the girl my age standing right there too.
My heart races out of control like the guy’s going to spot us and point the gun in our direction. “Mom! He shot him. Mom!” The panic in my voice rings in my ears. I start to open the door to save my stepdad, the only father figure in my life. The dad that I love. The dad that taught me everything I know about hockey… he’s…
“We’re leaving!” my mom says, her voice full of shock.
“Mom!” I wail.
She leans over and slams my door shut. The car swerves. “We’re fucking leaving!”
I close it.
She drives. Fast. Too fast.
I look back through the rear window. I see lights flicking on in neighboring houses.
But we’re already gone.
My mom doesn’t speak the whole way home. She just grips the steering wheel and stares straight ahead.
When we pull into our driveway, she finally looks at me.
“You didn’t see anything tonight. Understand?”
“Mom—” I argue.
