Chapter 2

Downstairs, everything was chaos.

Fire trucks lined the street, their flashing red lights sweeping over people's faces.

Residents huddled along the curb in emergency blankets. Some coughed, their faces smeared with soot. Others clutched their cats and trembled.

Mom sat on the steps beside an ambulance with Rachel cradled in her arms. An oxygen mask covered Rachel's face, and her chest rose and fell in frantic, uneven breaths.

Mom's hair had come completely undone. One of her slippers had fallen off while she was running, but she had not even noticed.

Volunteers moved through the crowd, handing out emergency blankets. They wrapped one around Rachel and draped another over Mom's shoulders.

They had taken only two.

A volunteer glanced at the empty space beside them and asked, "Just you two?"

Mom did not even raise her head.

"Her father is right over there."

The volunteer looked around once more, then walked away. No one asked if there were any other children in the family.

Fiona Baker, a neighbor from the third floor of the building next door, pushed through the crowd in her coat. Her family had escaped the fire as well.

"Jane! How is Rachel? She looks terrible!"

She crouched to feel Rachel's forehead, then glanced back to count her own family members. Her husband stood smoking beneath a streetlight while her two sons clung tightly to the hem of her coat.

She counted them once, then counted them again to make sure everyone was there. Only after she was certain no one was missing did she finally let out a sigh of relief.

She looked up.

"Where is your Suzanna?"

Mom froze for a moment.

Then Rachel suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit.

It was frightening to watch.

Her tiny body curled forward like a shrimp. Her lips turned pale, and the oxygen mask nearly slipped off.

Mom immediately bent over her, supporting Rachel's back with one hand while gently patting it with the other.

"Rachel, I'm here. Don't be scared. Take slow breaths. Breathe with me."

Her voice was so gentle, as though she were soothing Rachel to sleep.

Fiona's question was drowned out by the coughing. She waited a moment before trying again.

"Jane, Suzanna..."

Mom did not even look up. Her voice came out sharp and rushed.

"She's old enough to take care of herself. She must've made it downstairs on her own! When has she ever not followed behind us?

"Can't you see how badly Rachel is doing?"

Fiona did not dare ask again. She helped Mom steady Rachel for a moment before returning to her own family.

I stood beside Mom, less than three feet away.

She held Rachel close, kissed her forehead, and pressed her lips against her hair. She kept talking, one gentle reassurance after another.

"Don't be scared. I'm here. Breathe with me. That's it, just like that. Good girl. Rachel is so brave."

Each gentle word felt as warm and soothing as water poured over a wounded heart.

I listened.

I remembered the time I ran a fever of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. I pushed through an entire day at school, then went home and poured myself a glass of water. I dug through the back of the medicine cabinet, found some fever medicine, broke off half a tablet, and swallowed it.

Mom never knew.

Rachel had a follow-up appointment that day. My fever and Rachel's appointment happened at the same time, but in our family, there was room for only one problem at a time.

Dad crouched by the curb, his hands clasped together and his head bowed.

Suddenly, he looked up toward the building entrance. Black smoke billowed from the doorway as firefighters rushed inside, dragging hoses behind them.

He stood and took half a step toward the entrance. The toe of his shoe nearly crossed the safety line.

"Suzanna might..."

He did not finish.

Mom's voice cut through his words.

"Stay here and help me with Rachel! Can't you see she can barely breathe?"

Dad turned around. Rachel's oxygen mask had slipped sideways, and Mom was struggling to adjust it. He hurried back to help hold it in place.

The half step he had taken toward the building was forgotten.

Firefighters continued entering the building, one team after another. Dad watched them disappear inside and told himself that professionals were searching for anyone still trapped.

'Suzanna was such a good girl. She was probably crouched in some corner, waiting patiently for someone to find her. She could wait for anything.'

Nearby, Adrian, a resident from the third floor, was being carried out on a stretcher. His wife stood beside him with their two children. One arm held the younger child while her other hand gripped the older one's coat so tightly that she refused to let go.

Tears streamed down her face, yet she held both children tightly and refused to release either one.

I watched them.

So some mothers really did manage to hold on to both children when they ran.

The paramedics urged everyone into the ambulance. The color of Rachel's fingertips was wrong.

Dad looked toward the building entrance one last time.

It was only a brief glance, as though he could give himself a small acknowledgment and then put the entire matter behind him.

Then he climbed into the ambulance.

As the doors closed, Mom pulled Rachel's head against her chest.

"Don't be scared. I'm here."

She said it over and over.

Every single time, she was talking to Rachel.

I stood outside the ambulance, staring at the closed doors.

Before the doors shut, Mom had not looked back, and neither had Dad.

Just like always, they left me behind.

Only this time, they had not even left the door open for me.