“I have a cold, Mommy. I can’t go to school today” as I pull the covers over my head. She pulls the covers back down, looks at me while shaking her head and tucks the blankets in tight around my shoulders.
“Be sure you take your medicine then. It’s your fault you got sick in the first place. I told you not to run around in shorts so soon. It’s only March! It’s not warm enough. I hope this teaches you,” Mommy says.
She looks around the room, “Why don’t you ever clean you room? The dust is so thick you can write your name in it,” she says while brushing her fingers along my desk. She sighs, tucks me in again and walks out of the room closing the door behind her.
I roll over and pull the covers over my head. I have my comic books and a flashlight hidden under the blanket with me. She hates it when I read in bed. She says that it’ll make me nearsighted.
I hear her walk through the kitchen, open the hall closet and put on her coat. I wait for the sound of the front door slamming before I creep out of bed and go into the kitchen.
I didn’t lie. I am sick. I have the sniffles and my throat hurts a little when I swallow. It was worse when I just woke up but it’s a little better now.
I open the freezer and take out a pint of coffee ice cream. Daddy always tells me to eat ice cream when I don’t feel good. I fill my bowl and pour milk on top. It makes the ice cream form an icy layer on top.
I walk back up the stairs to my room and close the door behind me. I sit in bed with the bowl balanced between my knees and my comic book in my left hand.
Daddy won’t yell at me if he catches me. He’s still sleeping anyway. He won’t get up until at least 3pm and its only 8:30am.
I think my brother is home but he’s in his apartment downstairs so he won’t come check on me. I know he would yell at me. He’s a lot stricter than Daddy is.
I hear the doorbell ringing. I wonder who it could be? No one comes around this time of day. I know Daddy isn’t going to get up to answer the door.
I get out of bed and run downstairs to see who’s there. I look through the glass panes of the inner door and see a strange man staring back at me. He’s a tall white man with curly brown hair. He has nice hair.
“Yes? Who are you looking for?” I ask him through the storm glass metal barred doors. Daddy always tells me not to open the door for strangers.
“Yeah, umm is Mr. Unge here?” he asks.
People always pronounce my last name wrong. “He’s sleeping. Who are you?”
“Can I come in? Is that his car?” he asks pointing to my brother’s Cutlass that was parked in the driveway.
“Why?” I ask. I wonder why this man is asking so many questions. He looks nervous or something.
“I’m a cop. I’m looking for him. Can you let me in please? It’s cold out here.” He flashes a badge at me and tries to turn the doorknob.
“No, I can’t let you in. I’ll go get my father. Wait a sec.” I shut the wooden door and run up to my parents’ room. I open the door and jump on the bed.
“Daddy, there’s a man at the door. He’s looking for you and he said that he’s a cop and he wanted to know if the Cutlass was your car. He wanted to come in but I wouldn’t open the door for him.”
I didn’t like that guy anyway. He was weird. I try to push Daddy out of bed. He pulls on his slacks, which he always hangs over the chair by his desk, and walks out.
I follow him to the bedroom door and as he leaves the room, I close and lock the door behind him. Why did I do that?
I climb into my Daddy’s spot in the bed and wait. What am I waiting for?
I pick up the phone that hangs on the wall beside the bed. Why am I doing this?
I hear my dad shouting, “What do you want? Who are you? You want money?” Daddy’s let the man in. He shouldn’t have. I didn’t.
I dial 911 and wait. I don’t hear any ringing so I hang up and dial 0. The operator picks up. “I need the police,” I tell her.
“Dial 911,” she says.
“I tried but nobody picked up. Please, I need the police,” I whisper. I can hear my father’s shouting getting louder and louder. I only hear his voice.
“Is this an emergency?” the operator asks.
What a stupid question! “Yes, of course it is. Please hurry.” These operators are so stupid. I have to remember to tell my teacher that 911 doesn’t really work.
There is a policewoman on the phone now. “Please send someone. There’s a man in my house and he’s fighting with my father,” I tell her.
“One second, honey. Who’s fighting with your father?” the woman asks.
“There was a man at the door and I wouldn’t let him in but Daddy did and now they’re fighting. Send someone here now,” I say louder.
“Okay, what’s your address?” she asks.
I tell her my address. “Please hurry. And send an ambulance too.” Now why did I say that?
“You need an ambulance?” she asks.
“Yes. Send an ambulance and hurry,” I reply. I already said that. Don’t they know this is an emergency?
I see my father’s gun lying on the nightstand where he always leaves it at night. I pick it up, check the chamber and see that it’s loaded. I crawl under the bed with the gun in one hand and the phone in the other.
I hear another strange man’s voice. Now there are two men and one is arguing with my brother. I hear footsteps pounding and furniture moving.
“What’s happening now, honey” the woman asks.
“They’re fighting now. I hear them fighting. They’re hitting each other. They’re still yelling, can’t you hear them?” I ask.
“Yes, I hear them. Are you somewhere safe? Maybe you should hide.”
“I’m in my parents’ room upstairs. I locked the door and I’m hiding under the bed.”
“Can you take the phone under the bed with you? Don’t hang up, okay?”
“The cord reaches under the bed. I have a gun,” I tell her.
“You have a gun? Where did you get a gun? Is it loaded?” she asks.
“My father. He keeps it next to his bed. It’s loaded, I checked. I have it under the bed with me.” I hear shots. They sound like firecrackers. “They’re shooting.”
“Yes, I heard it. How many shots did you hear?” she asks.
“Two, I heard two. Someone’s coming. Someone’s trying to open the door.” The
door bursts open and someone walks in.
“May, where’s the gun?” my father yells. I look out from under the bed. I stick my arm out from under the bed and give him the gun. I watch the blood trickle down his leg and onto the floor as he runs out of the room. I look at the trail of blood on the floor. Then I pull my chin down to my chest and close my eyes. The whole house is quiet now so I concentrate on the whirring sound in my head.
I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and into the room. I keep my eyes closed tight.
“We’re in,” says a deep male voice.
I hear a lot of voices in the room. A hand reaches under the bed and grabs my arm. “Yeah, we found her. She’s still under the bed.” I am being pulled out from under the bed. I look at their shiny black shoes as I crawl out. I stand up and stare at them. They’re cops.
One of them takes the phone out of my right hand. I had forgotten that I was holding it. “Okay, we’ve got her. Thanks,” he says. I watch as he walks over to hang it up. Someone sits me on the edge of the bed.
“It’s okay now. They’re gone. You did the right thing. You were very brave. It’s a good thing you stayed in here. It was the safest thing to do,” says one the cops as he squats in front of me. I stare at him.
“So, how old are you?” he asks.
“Thirteen. I’m thirteen.”
MAY NG 