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But she’s
not supposed to do gymnastics on the playground. She does it anyway
though.”
    “Hi Kay,” I said.
    “Sarah told me she does
gymnastics at the Olympics, but I don’t think that’s
true,” she said. “I mean, she’s only eight like
me.”
    “It’s kind of true,”
I said, “Or it will be soon. She wants to join something called
the Special Olympics; do you know what that is?”
    “No, but it sounds cool. Can I
join it too?”
    I glanced up at Patrick with an
apologetic smile on my face. “Sorry, Kay, it’s only for
people with special needs like Sarah. The Special Olympics is open to
people a little younger, but one day Sarah plans to join the main
Olympic Games. Isn’t that right, angel?”
    “USA, artistic gymnastics,”
Sarah said.
    “That one you can join, but I
think you have to be sixteen,” I said. “Sarah goes to a
coach who volunteers with the Special Olympics at her studio.”
    “Oh, wow, can I go?”
    “Yes,” Sarah said.
    “No, sweetheart,” Patrick
said, looking down at his daughter.
    “No, dad, just to watch, I mean.
Can I go to watch?” She turned big, brown pleading eyes to me.
    I scratched behind my ear. “I’m
not sure, I could check with the coach,” I said, looking over
at Patrick.
    He gave me a half smile and shrugged.
“You walking this way?” He gestured toward the parking
lot.
    “I was hoping to,” I said,
putting an arm around Sarah, and leading her toward the exit.
    The wind blasted us as we exited out of
the main doors. Both Kay and Sarah had to grab at their hair as it
blew into their faces. Grabbing two hair bands out of my purse, I
offered one to Patrick.
    “Want this?” I asked.
    He took the little pink hair band, and
gave me a big grin.
    I gathered up Sarah’s hair and
tied it back. “Want me to do Kay’s too?” I asked as
I could see he was struggling.
    “Thanks, I’m still not that
good at all this girl stuff.”
    “No problem.” I collected
her hair up in a high bun. When I was done, she grinned up at me,
touching her hair like it was delicate and might break.
    “Well, see you Monday, probably?”
I said.
    He grinned, “Or maybe sooner.”
    “Maybe so ,” I said,
with a flirtatious grin, “It’s a small town.”
    “Alright then,” he said,
his eyes glowing and grin growing even bigger, “Maybe so.”

Day
Zero: Three O’clock

    When we turned off the street Sarah’s
school sat on and onto another residential street, I pressed the
button for the CD player to start working.
    “ Oh, Buffalo Gals will ye come
out tonight, come out tonight, come out
tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by de light of de moon? ”
Sarah and I sang at the top of our lungs along with the kids’
CD. We kept singing, and I saw the seat next to me bump forward every
couple notes as Sarah kicked it.
    “ I
danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin',
And her heel kept
a-knockin', and her toes kept a-rockin' , ”
Sarah sang in a low, masculine sounding voice which was an amazing
impression of the singer from the CD.
    “Wow, that’s really good,”
I said, looking back into the rear view mirror at her. I squinted
into the mirror. “Sarah, are you wearing your seatbelt?”
    “I’m wearing it!” she
shouted. I glanced over my shoulder, just to be sure, but she was
wearing it.
    “Sorry, I just needed to be
sure,” I said turning back to the road.
    “Shit!” I screamed.
    A woman was in the road. Time slowed
down as she turned to me while I drove straight at her.
    My foot slammed down onto my brake
pedal.
    Her brown ponytail flew back and her
eyes widened in shock.
    The car skidded toward her. A loud
screech and a pungent smell of burnt tire overwhelmed my senses.
    My back locked up as the car jerked to
a stop, my body slammed forward into the steering wheel.
    The woman had her hands out toward my
car, as if she would have been able to stop it. Her fingers were only
a couple inches from my hood. Her tight running suit