Page 21 of Inferno
Frowning at the realization that her shouting had attracted an audience, Prissy abruptly released her son’s chin and started the engine. She waited until they’d left school grounds before she resumed her tirade.
“We don’t live in Atlanta anymore, Manny. We left behind the old neighborhood where you and your brothers had to worry about fending off bullies on your way to the bus stop every morning. You don’t have to fight for your survival anymore.”
“I know that,” Manning mumbled.
“Then you need to act like it!” Exasperated, Prissy shook her head at him. “Do you haveanyidea what people are going to think when they hear about this incident? You’re the superintendent’s son, and like it or not, folks expect more from you. So you can’t go around getting into brawls and breaking people’s noses like you’re some hoodlum off the street!”
Once again, Manning was broodingly silent.
“Do you realize how much you’ve disrupted my day?” Prissy continued. “I was on my way to an important meeting with a large community organization when Principal Henderson called me. Thanks to you, the meeting will have to be postponed, whichis a damn shameconsidering how hard it was for me to evengeton this group’s calendar. And God only knows what’s going to happen with Rory and his parents. If you really broke his nose, they might decide to sue us. So while I’m over here trying to improve our school district and convince voters to approve a $17.4 million bond proposal, my family could be battling alawsuit!”
Staring down at the melting ice pack in his lap, Manning grumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’regonnabe sorry,” Prissy promised. “If you think that getting three days off from school translates into a vacation, you’re in for a rude awakening. By the time you finish washing and folding your brothers’ laundry, cleaning their rooms, mopping the kitchen floor, vacuuming the house, mowing the yard, reorganizing the garage and doing whatever else needs to be done, you’re gonnabegto return to school.”
At that, Manning leaned back against the headrest, closed his eyes and groaned.
And for the first time that afternoon, Prissy found something to smile about.
Everything had been going so well.
The roomful of first graders listened raptly as Stan described his job as a firefighter and demonstrated fire prevention safety measures. Assisted by Sparky the Fire Dog—which was really his colleague, Jake Easton, in a Dalmatian costume—Stan taught Mason and his classmates how to Stop, Drop and Roll to smother burning clothes, and to crawl under smoke and stay low to the floor during a fire. He led them in a spirited rendition of the fire safety song—which was sung to the tune of “Frère Jacques”—and answered some of their amusing questions, like whether he’d ever hurt himself sliding down the pole at the fire station.(Which, for the record, he never had.)
He was almost home free.
Until Miss Dominguez cheerfully informed her students that they had time for just one more question before Stan’s visit ended.
A small hand shot into the air, rising above the others.
Stan smiled, pointing to the child attached to the urgently waving hand. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Colton, sir.Colton Cobb.”He was a cute kid with bright green eyes, freckled cheeks and a voice that squeaked.
Again Stan smiled. “What’s your question for me, Colton?”
The boy rose from his little desk, looked Stan in the eye and asked bluntly, “When you run into a burning house, do you ever get scared of dying?”
Stan’s throat locked.
Shit.
As a hushed silence swept over the classroom, Stan shot a glance at Miss Dominguez. But she seemed as stunned as he was.
He swallowed hard as Colton waited, oblivious to the havoc his perfectly innocent question had wrought on Stan’s nervous system.
As he floundered for a response, Mason piped up confidently, “My daddy’s the best fireman in the world. So he’snevergonna die!”
Jesus.
Stan saw Jake staring at him with his huge, spotted head cocked to one side, mimicking the perplexed gesture of a real dog. And like a faithful furry friend, he came to Stan’s rescue.
Turning to the whispering schoolchildren, he asked animatedly, “Who wants a fire hat?”
“I do! I do!”camethe delighted squeals.
Relieved that the diversion tactic had worked, Stan watched as Jake reached inside his large “doggy bag” and began distributing red plastic fire hats with all the joviality of Santa Claus handing out presents at Christmastime.
“Okay, children,” Miss Dominguez called out brightly. “Let’s show our appreciation to Lieutenant Wolf and Sparky the Fire Dog for visiting our class today!”
