Peaches by Elyse Shan

Peaches.

That was what I was thinking about when the alarm sounded. It was math class on a dreary, seemingly normal day. Even the skies agreed, clouded with fur balls that cats spit out after they hiss and cough.

I can’t remember why.

Why peaches? I think I was hungry. I was complaining to my best friend about the long classes.

All that seems insignificant now. Now I hear “shelter in place, shelter in place” over and over, knowing that it’s not a drill.

Now is pressing my back into the hard wood of the cubby at the back of the library. Now is clutching my favorite book to my chest, trying to gain a sense of comfort from the familiar feel of the rough, yellowed pages. Now is wishing that I wasn’t alone, that my best friend hadn’t gone to the bathroom just before the bell rang.

And now is barely breathing as footsteps sound closer.

I am frozen by absolute terror. My eyes are shut as if the darkness behind my eyelids could swallow me up and make me invisible.

Each detail sticks out to me. Each beat of my heart sounds as loud as the drums in the music room. Each step of the intruder is careful and slow. Heel to toe, heel to toe.

I wonder where my backpack is.

Heel to toe, heel to toe.

Is my best friend hiding in the bathroom? Or has she returned to the classroom?

Heel to toe, heel to toe.

I want tulips at my funeral, not roses. Especially not red ones.

Heel to toe, heel to toe.

Thud, thud, goes my heart.

Heal to toe, heal to toe.

But the intruder passes.

I almost gasp. Then one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and maybe some more.

I don’t dare open my eyes. I wait. I wait for who knows how long until the sound of sirens come. Then I wait some more.

A while later, maybe a long while, I am in my mother’s arms. Tears roll down our cheeks like victory banners that roll down to welcome heroes back from a war.

Featured Image – A sliced open peach – Photo Courtesy of freestockphotos.biz