Picture Story

 

From her position at the head of the stairs Sam strained to hear her parents’ conversation. She had heard the name of her friend’s father, and she wanted to know what was going on; he was rarely mentioned.

 

“Samantha! Stop eavesdropping on mom and dad!” snapped the bossy voice of Mickenzie, Sam’s seventeen-year-old sister.

 

Sam refused to even look at the older girl. “Leave me alone, Zee,” she growled. “And don’t call me ‘Samantha,’ I hate that name.”

 

Mickenzie, however, was not to be pushed away. “It’s past your bedtime, anyway,” she said loftily.

 

“Zee, it’s eight o’clock,” Sam said in a dull voice.

 

“Well, it should be past your bedtime. Now go on. Scoot. Or I’ll tell mom and dad you were listening to them!”

 

Sam snorted, but she got up. She walked slowly down the hall to her room, Mickenzie hissing at her like an angry goose all the way.

 

“Give your jaw a break, Mickenzie,” Sam snapped, and she slammed the door in her sister’s face.

 

The door opened again. “Don’t slam doors, Samantha!” Mickenzie chided.

 

“So sorry, your highness,” Sam bowed mockingly.

 

Mickenzie sniffed. “Well, maybe I won’t tell you who’s been calling you.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Mickenzie, dear,” Sam said with fake sweetness. “Who called?”

 

“There were several messages for you. Your friend Colin is in town, he wanted to know if you two could get together like you usually do when he comes to visit his grandparents. Joni, from school, called; she wanted the science homework. And Nicole called.” Mickenzie looked a little worried. “She sounded upset about something.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam closed the door again, wondering if the reason Nicole was upset had anything to do with the reason Sam’s parents had been talking about Nicole’s father, and grabbed her phone. She punched in her best friend’s phone number.

 

The phone rang. Once, twice, three times.

 

“Hi, Mrs. O’Mally, is Nikki there?”

 

“Samantha Roberts?” Mrs. O’Mally’s voice sounded a little strange. “Sam? Is that you, Sam?”

 

“Yes, it’s Sam.” She leaned against her wall.

 

“Hello, dear. Did you want to speak to Nicole?” Mrs. O’Mally didn’t seem to realize Sam had just asked for Nicole.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“I’ll get her.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Nicole! The phone is for you! It’s Sam!”

 

“Thanks, mom. I got it! Hello?” Nikki’s voice also sounded a little strange.

 

“Hey, Nikki, it’s Sam. Zee said you called.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Nikki didn’t answer. It sounded like she was crying.

 

“Nikki, are you crying? You don’t sound too good. Neither did your mom. Zee said you sounded upset. What’s wrong?”

 

Still there was no answer.

 

“We’re best friends. You can tell me. We talk about everything. What happened? My parents were talking about…” Sam didn’t want to touch an unhealed wound, but she decided it was important. “My parents were talking about your dad.”

 

“Yeah. It’s my dad…”

 

Immediately Sam’s attention was caught. Nikki’s parents had gotten divorced several years before and her father had moved away from Bay City to live in South Carolina, but he sometimes returned to Michigan to visit. Most of the time Mr. O’Mally was pleasant enough, but if he had been drinking… Once Mr. O’Mally had broken Nikki’s arm and another time Nikki’s little sister, Jessica, had ended up in the hospital. Nikki’s parents had gotten divorced because of Mr. O’Mally’s drinking problems, and how dangerous he got if he had been drinking too much.

 

“He came to visit last night,” Nikki continued in a voice that didn’t sound at all like her own. “Around midnight he just turned up at the door. Jessie and I were asleep, but Mom heard the doorbell. She let him in and put him up on the couch. Then she went back to bed. He woke us all a couple hours later. An old friend of his had come over, Mr. Sorthun, you remember him, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” I said quietly. Mr. Sorthun had been Mr. O’Mally’s chief drinking partner.

 

Nikki went on in that strange voice, as if she were reciting something written by someone else. “Well, they had been drinking, and they started singing… real loud. Anyway, Jessie and I went downstairs to see what was going on; we didn’t know Dad was back, you see. Mom met us on the stairs. “Go back to bed,” she said. “I’ll deal with your father.” And she went downstairs to the kitchen where dad and Mr. Sorthun were. Jessie and I didn’t listen to Mom. We should have, but we didn’t.” She started to cry, but I didn’t interrupt. “We hadn’t seen Dad in ages, over a year, in fact, and he’s not always mean. Mom told Dad and Mr. Sorthun to be quiet,” she said when she had calmed down a little, “because Jessie and I needed to sleep, and our neighbors were trying to sleep as well, since it was about two-thirty in the morning. Jessie and I had crept over to the door to watch what was going on, and to see Dad. Dad didn’t listen to Mom, he just kept on drinking and singing at the top of his voice, though Mr. Sorthun had stopped singing, I guess he wasn’t as drunk as Dad, and anyway, he’s never been as bad as dad. Mom put her hand on Dad’s arm to get his attention. The second she touched his arm he lashed out, like one of those puppets at a carnival, the fists that are attached to springs, and when the spring is tripped…” I could hear her sniffing. “Well, she flew back into the table when he hit her; Jessie screamed. Dad was so drunk he didn’t know who Jessie and I were. He must’ve thought we were breaking into the house, or something. He grabbed the… he grabbed…” she was sobbing. “He grabbed the knife… the knife on the table… he threw it, and… oh God, Sam. He threw it and it hit Jessie!”

 

Sam screamed and slid down the wall to collapse in a heap on the floor. “Oh my God! Jessie! Is she… oh my God…” Sam started crying too. Sam could hear people running up the stairs and down the hall.

 

The door to Sam’s room burst open, and Sam’s parents and Mickenzie stood in the doorway. They all had scared looks on their faces. The look on Sam’s mother’s face changed to relief when she saw that Sam was unhurt.

 

Sam’s father opened his mouth, but Sam shook her head. “It’s Nikki,” she mouthed. Mr. Roberts nodded.

 

“Nikki?” Sam asked quietly. “Are you still there?”

 

“She’s alive,” Nikki barely whispered, as though she hadn’t heard Sam’s question. “But she’s in the hospital. Mom was unconscious when it happened. But that knife really sobered Mr. Sorthun up. I was half numb with fear, ‘cause Dad rounded on me and I was scared for Jessie, but I got off easy, he only blacked my eye and split my lip. Mr. Sorthun called 911, and when the ambulance came it took Jessie to the emergency room and Mom too, but Mom’s gonna be okay. She came home an hour or so ago. Her wrist is broken, and her ankle’s sprained from the fall, but she’ll be all right. She’s just worried about Jessie now. The police who came with the ambulance got Dad out of here. I dunno what they did with him, and I don’t care. I hope he’s in jail, or something. Look, Sam, can I… can I call you back?”

 

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked worriedly. “Is something else wrong?”

 

“Well, it’s just… the hospital is supposed to call us, tell us if Jessie’s alright.” Nikki was crying again.

 

“Oh. I see. Ok. Call me when you know?”

 

“Of course. Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Sam hung up the phone.

 

“What happened?” Mickenzie asked in a hushed voice.

 

“It’s Jessie,” Sam said. Quietly she told her family what Nikki had told her. When she finished, she was in tears again, and her mother and sister were crying. Sam’s father looked like he might cry too.

 

Sam and Mickenzie sat with their mother’s arms around them, crying into her shoulders like they had done when they were little.

 

“Jessie’s only ten, mom,” Mickenzie cried.

 

“She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?” Sam asked, scared of the answer she knew she might get.

 

“Let’s hope so,” Sam’s father said.

 

“Let’s pray so,” Mrs. Roberts whispered.

* * * * *

It was about an hour later, and there was still no word. The Roberts family was still sitting around the bed in Sam’s room.

 

“Mom?” Sam asked slowly. “Can I go over to Nikki’s? To see if they’ve heard, and if… and if they’re okay?”

 

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Roberts murmured. “Do you think we should come too?”

 

“No,” Sam said, “I want to go alone, if that’s all right with you. I’ll call you when I find out… when I find out anything.”

 

“If you’re sure…”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Okay.” Mrs. Roberts nodded.

 

Sam picked up her jacket and left the room. Slowly she walked downstairs, out the back door, through the back yard, and down the street behind the house. Several blocks down she came to the O’Mallys’ house. All the shutters were drawn.

 

Sam climbed the front steps as she had done so many times before with a much lighter heart. She knocked several times, but no one answered. She tried looking through a window, but she could see nothing. She knocked again, wondering if she should go home.

 

At last she heard footsteps inside. The door opened a crack and Nikki’s tear-stained face appeared.

 

“Sam?” Nikki choked. Nikki let Sam inside.

 

“Did you…” Sam paused, she thought she knew the answer, but she had to be sure. “Did you hear from the hospital?”

 

Nikki nodded, then collapsed, crying, into her best friend’s arms. “Oh, Sam! She’s… she’s dead! Jessie’s dead!”

End