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"Mary missed!" June whispered, incredulously.I didn't answer.Patricia had her hands in the air, afraid to let them go anywhere near her weapon."Everybody is accounted for," Aimee projected to me. "There was one other person, but that person drove away before the people entered the front door." Fine. Wait before coming downstairs. I'll send June in to take care of the men in the atrium."June did as I silently directed. Mary had picked up the intruder's gun, and also disarmed Patricia. She looked at me, confused.I just smiled at Mary."Clear!" June said in my mind.I sent a message for Aimee to come downstairs with as many pairs of pantyhose as she could find, but to watch out for Debbie's emotional broadcast. "Be careful, Aimee, Debbie is radiating exhaustion!"Aimee told me she understood.It was lucky we were in the laundry room. There was a cabinet that had some rags in it. I got one and started to apply direct pressure on the wounded man's bleeding arm.Apparently, every person that was. I opened my mouth one last time to ask him, but nothing came out. I felt brittle as a soft little bird about to be eaten by a cat.Mr. Trombley noticed. "You're shivering, child," he said, his hands still on my shoulders. "What's wrong?" I couldn't face him. He'd notice my tears. He noticed them anyway. His fingers touched my cheek, my tears. "Yes," he said, misunderstanding completely. "You played so well today. My prize pupil. You're so good. So good. I'm so proud of you. Now work on that Prokoffiev for next time, okay? See you then. Off you go." He ruffled the top of my head, and I got up from the bench, gathered together my books, and slipped into the hallway, where Beverly, with a wan smile and a soft hi, passed me on the way in to her lesson.If only it had been sunny out.If only it had been mere gloom.If only my mom had somehow got her errands done early and been out there, waiting at the curb, windshield wipers wagging. But the rain was so wild and fierce I could barely see to.
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