by Mark Tullius
two have to go, honey.”
Sam’s little fingers keep pressing the button. “No, I can get it.”
“Samantha, stop! Look at me.”
I’ve never heard Sam cry like this before, and I realize I’m crying, too.
“I’m not leaving,” Sam says.
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll get your father. But you both have to swim.”
Sam screams, “David, help!”
I push my button, and for a second, I think I’m trapped just like Mom, but then I hear the click and my whole body thwaps against the ceiling. I crawl over to help, but it’s really stuck.
“David, stop!”
I don’t want to look at her.
“You need to take care of your sister. You swim out after the glass breaks.”
My fingers are still pressing the button. Mom takes my face in her hands.
“Promise me you’ll always protect her.”
I want to tell her to be quiet, that we have to keep trying, but the sound of splintering glass fills the van. Water is going to come like an avalanche. Mom yells at us to get behind the seats, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want any of this.
*****
Continue to try and free Mom. Turn to page 43.
Pull Sam behind the seats. Turn to page 90.
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