Here's a perfect example of a good time to use boom.
The same thunder woke Sunny Bankston. She groaned. I hope today's better than yesterday. Maybe the power won't blip off again. The weather had kept thirty-two rambunctious third-graders inside all day. Then, they practiced a tornado drill. Convincing her students it was just a drill had been extremely difficult. She had stopped by Perry's office. Hand on hips, she chastised, "Of all days to have a tornado drill."
He brushed past her, kissed her on the neck just below her ear and whispered, "It was real."
She kicked off covers and sighed. "I have to go to school." Sunny made breakfast—eggs, sausage, toast, apple sauce, grape juice and coffee with cream and sugar. Casual Friday. Yay! She dressed in jeans, a fuzzy pastel-pink sweater and sneakers.
Gathering everything she would need for the day, Sunny dashed to her car and drove to work. Things might be better if certain students I won't mention by name don't show up. I hope. She instantly chided herself for the thought. This year's group is much worse than my first one. Sunny decided her first class had been fantastic. If not for Perry, I would've quit this year. I wonder if we can keep things under control. She tingled with joy, remembering his touch.
Although they were not sleeping together, their relationship was a big step more than casual. Dimples etched her face then she trembled. A transfer for either of them would change the nature of their involvement—certainly, it would deepen.
Oh, good. My biggest troublemaker isn't here today. I shouldn't be happy about it, but I am. And then there are the test scores. If this group can match my previous class scores, I'd be ecstatic. If she could pull off a miracle for this class, life would be tolerable. But maybe not today.
She waited with excitement to share last year's success with Perry at dinner. She smiled to herself.
The thunder rumbled closer and closer. The electricity went off as the thunderclap rattled windows. Can't do book work in the dark. Sunny tapped the dry-erase marker impatiently on her desk chair. She stood. "Everybody, get your chairs. Let's make a circle."
When the children had formed a circle, Sunny sat in a chair and held up the marker. "This is a story stick," she said. "We're going to tell a story as a group. You can only speak if you're holding the story stick. We'll pass it around the circle. I'll start. When it gets to you, add to the story. It can be serious or funny. When it gets back to me, I'll end the story. Okay?"
The children nodded.
"Once upon a time," Sunny began, "it was a stormy day. Bad weather made studying difficult for Miss Bankston's third-grade class. The electricity went off, and the thunder was so loud it made everybody jump." She jumped toward the child on her left. Some students squealed and then giggled. Sunny handed the story stick to the boy on her left. He looked a bit confused, but his teacher nodded encouragement.
The student said, "The storm made everything spooky because it was real dark. The thunder sounded like gunshots…"
Sunny listened. Gunshots? That does sound like gunshots. I think. Never heard gunshots before, but it's not thunder. Her eyes widened. The electricity is off. The metal detectors aren't working! Sunny ran to her classroom door and locked it.
"Students!" she said trying not to alarm the children. "Move quickly but quietly. Get under the computer table, behind my desk and under my desk. Do not make any noise."
One little girl whispered, "Miss Bankston, are those really gunshots?"
"I think so," said Sunny. "But if we're quiet, nobody will know we're in here. Now, hide."
The little girl took Sunny's hand. "You, too."
"I'm coming, Markita. You go first."
"I'm scared."
Sunny hugged the little girl. "Me, too, but we have to be brave and quiet." She had never had this group obey her so completely. She thought, Lord, this isn't how I wanted my miracle.
When the children were as safe as possible, Sunny sat down in front of them and put her chair in front of her. This is the best I can do. She hoped the children could not hear her heart thumping or read the terror on her face. She forced a smile at the students closest to her.
The shots got closer. Markita clutched Sunny's hand. Someone rattled the doorknob. The lock splintered—the door burst open. Hands popped over mouths, but nobody screamed.
A lone gunman slung Sunny's chair across the room. Heart hammering, she put herself between the pupils and the crazy man. "You will not hurt these children," she said firmly, fighting tears.
The man growled, "I ain't come to hurt them kids. I'm looking for Miss Bankston. Tell me where she is and this'll all be over."
Me? Why me? "I'm Miss Bankston. What do you want with me?"
"I want you to die."
"Why?" Keep him talking. Help will come. Perry will come. Perry promised to keep me safe. Perry. Where are you, Perry? Come on. I need you. She gulped. I love you.
"You took my family away from me." He pointed a nine-millimeter handgun at her. "I only tried to teach Amir to do right. If I had to whoop him to do it, so be it."
"Whoop?" She placed her arms away from her body to form a cross as she felt the children press against her. "You're Amir's father? You didn't spank him. You beat him. He had broken bones! He wanted to cut your head off with a broadsword."
"I can't even see my boy 'cause of you. Him and his momma have disappeared. Some women's group helped 'em hide."
You were arrested. "Why aren't you in jail?"
The skeletal face grinned like the Grim Reaper. "Bail. Now, I can get a little revenge."
"And you'll go away forever. Is that what you want to do to Amir?"
"No. I just want you to die."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Students screaming...searing pain…the man's head exploding…a distant rumble of thunder…Perry…blackness.
Excerpt from Homegrown Healer. Due out by the end of the year.
