The waves lapped loudly and the pages of Tia’s book darkened and fluttered. In the distance, thunder rumbled so faintly it could have been an off-beat marching band or the crashing of pins in a bowling alley.
Goosebumps prickled Tia’s skin sending a shiver down her back.
“Zachary, get away from the water,” she said, tired of having to look up every minute to check on him. She watched him plop a bucket of wet sand onto his sand castle, a giant pile of slop, and shook her head.
I can’t wait to take him back to his parents and get my fifty bucks, she thought, as she went back to reading. Zachary’s parents never told her where they were going, but Mrs. Holdt always came home with handfuls of shopping bags and Tia saw Mr. Holdt’s car at Pole Kittens on multiple occasions—a yellow Corvette with “8MYDUST” for a license plate.
Maybe because Tia was just a junior in high school, or because she didn’t have a motherly bone in her body, but she felt no connection to Zachary. She’d watched him the entire summer, after meeting a desperate Mrs. Holdt at the mall in May, frantically looking for a sitter so she could attend the much-awaited Louis Vuitton store opening. All the hot, uneventful days at the pool, the park, and the beach only added to Tia’s lack of connection.
Grey clouds swirled above them like dust bunnies and a couple of raindrops smeared the words on Tia’s book.
“Zachary, time to—“ Tia looked up, saw that Zachary was no longer pressing his small hands into the mound of sand, but frantically coming toward her on tippy toes, flinging up sand. His crimson face matched his hair and his sandy hands clutched at his throat.
Tia knew. Right away.
He’s choking!
Even as she pictured him blue-faced and unmoving on the sand, she stood and ran toward him. What do I do? Mrs. Clark had demonstrated the Heimlich freshman year, but Tia had been too busy passing dirty notes back and forth with Bradley Zimmerman, a junior who’d failed health class twice before.
Do I put my arms around him? Lay him down? Oh, God, his face! Why didn’t I pay attention in class?
She wanted to yell for help, but there was nobody to yell for. Everyone had cleared the beach the moment the clouds darkened.
As Zachary’s face went from dark red to dark blue, Tia whipped his body around and pumped her fists into his lower stomach, just above his swim trunks.
It didn’t work. His face grew purple, as if covered by a painful bruise. Tears squirmed from his bulging blue eyes. I hurt him, Tia panicked.
Clasping her shaking hands together, she drove her fists a little higher into Zachary’s stomach.
Still not breathing, his eyes rolled back in his head. His body went limp in Tia’s arms.
He’s going to die. It’s going to be my fault. Tia imagined standing next to his tiny coffin at the funeral, holding his cold hand, telling him she was so, so sorry. His face would be a normal color again thanks to the caked on make up.
I’ll never be the same if he dies.
Tia held up Zachary’s limp body in her arms and thrust once more just below his sternum. Something flew out of his mouth and buried itself in a mound of sand.
Zachary gasped for air and let out a sob as the unnatural colors drained slowly from his face. Any other time, his cries reminded Tia of the blaring and wailing of a tornado siren early on Saturday mornings. But her legs gave out and she pulled Zachary onto her lap and cried as he wrapped her arms around her neck. She held him tight to her body, feeling the droplets of water from his stomach on her own.
Visions of his coffin slowly vanished and she kissed his cheek repeatedly.
When the sprinkles turned into a downpour, their crying finally ceased. Their teeth chattered, but Tia could’ve sat there longer if it meant keeping him safe.
“What—what was in your mouth?” Tia asked. She’d been so relieved to hear Zachary sucking in air, she’d forgotten to look at what flew out.
“A piece of money. I was pretendin’ my mouth was a piggy bank.”
Tia didn’t know whether to laugh at his imagination or slap him for doing something he knew he shouldn’t be. What if I’d failed? He could’ve died. It would’ve been my fault.
“Let’s get you home, Zachary.”
Tia didn’t even care about the fifty bucks anymore.
Goosebumps prickled Tia’s skin sending a shiver down her back.
“Zachary, get away from the water,” she said, tired of having to look up every minute to check on him. She watched him plop a bucket of wet sand onto his sand castle, a giant pile of slop, and shook her head.
I can’t wait to take him back to his parents and get my fifty bucks, she thought, as she went back to reading. Zachary’s parents never told her where they were going, but Mrs. Holdt always came home with handfuls of shopping bags and Tia saw Mr. Holdt’s car at Pole Kittens on multiple occasions—a yellow Corvette with “8MYDUST” for a license plate.
Maybe because Tia was just a junior in high school, or because she didn’t have a motherly bone in her body, but she felt no connection to Zachary. She’d watched him the entire summer, after meeting a desperate Mrs. Holdt at the mall in May, frantically looking for a sitter so she could attend the much-awaited Louis Vuitton store opening. All the hot, uneventful days at the pool, the park, and the beach only added to Tia’s lack of connection.
Grey clouds swirled above them like dust bunnies and a couple of raindrops smeared the words on Tia’s book.
“Zachary, time to—“ Tia looked up, saw that Zachary was no longer pressing his small hands into the mound of sand, but frantically coming toward her on tippy toes, flinging up sand. His crimson face matched his hair and his sandy hands clutched at his throat.
Tia knew. Right away.
He’s choking!
Even as she pictured him blue-faced and unmoving on the sand, she stood and ran toward him. What do I do? Mrs. Clark had demonstrated the Heimlich freshman year, but Tia had been too busy passing dirty notes back and forth with Bradley Zimmerman, a junior who’d failed health class twice before.
Do I put my arms around him? Lay him down? Oh, God, his face! Why didn’t I pay attention in class?
She wanted to yell for help, but there was nobody to yell for. Everyone had cleared the beach the moment the clouds darkened.
As Zachary’s face went from dark red to dark blue, Tia whipped his body around and pumped her fists into his lower stomach, just above his swim trunks.
It didn’t work. His face grew purple, as if covered by a painful bruise. Tears squirmed from his bulging blue eyes. I hurt him, Tia panicked.
Clasping her shaking hands together, she drove her fists a little higher into Zachary’s stomach.
Still not breathing, his eyes rolled back in his head. His body went limp in Tia’s arms.
He’s going to die. It’s going to be my fault. Tia imagined standing next to his tiny coffin at the funeral, holding his cold hand, telling him she was so, so sorry. His face would be a normal color again thanks to the caked on make up.
I’ll never be the same if he dies.
Tia held up Zachary’s limp body in her arms and thrust once more just below his sternum. Something flew out of his mouth and buried itself in a mound of sand.
Zachary gasped for air and let out a sob as the unnatural colors drained slowly from his face. Any other time, his cries reminded Tia of the blaring and wailing of a tornado siren early on Saturday mornings. But her legs gave out and she pulled Zachary onto her lap and cried as he wrapped her arms around her neck. She held him tight to her body, feeling the droplets of water from his stomach on her own.
Visions of his coffin slowly vanished and she kissed his cheek repeatedly.
When the sprinkles turned into a downpour, their crying finally ceased. Their teeth chattered, but Tia could’ve sat there longer if it meant keeping him safe.
“What—what was in your mouth?” Tia asked. She’d been so relieved to hear Zachary sucking in air, she’d forgotten to look at what flew out.
“A piece of money. I was pretendin’ my mouth was a piggy bank.”
Tia didn’t know whether to laugh at his imagination or slap him for doing something he knew he shouldn’t be. What if I’d failed? He could’ve died. It would’ve been my fault.
“Let’s get you home, Zachary.”
Tia didn’t even care about the fifty bucks anymore.
