Chapter 3 - Hands Over Mouths
I felt the cold first through my pants. The marble went straight into my knees where Dad had pulled me down with him, and it stayed there, hard and bright under the chandeliers. Maya was pressed so tight against my side that her forehead dug into my vest, and her crying shook through both of us. Her sheer sleeve caught on the button of my vest every time she breathed in.
Dad didn't let go. His one arm was around my back and the other was around Maya, his chin almost touching the tops of our heads. I could feel his heart hammering through his denim shirt. He kept looking past us toward the woman on the floor, then back at the crowd, then at us again, like he was trying to watch everything at once.
The woman hadn't gotten up. She was on her knees a few feet away, her burgundy dress pooled around her on the white floor, her long dark hair fallen forward over her shoulder. One heeled sandal had slipped half off her foot. The bat was between us, dark wood on white marble, not touching anyone now. It had rolled a little after she dropped it and stopped near her knee.
Nobody picked it up. A man in a black gala jacket with an earpiece came fast from near the double doors, the way Dad had come, and then he stopped short when he saw the bat. He looked down at it, then at the woman, then at Dad. He half crouched like he was going to grab it, and then he pulled his hand back. He put his hand to his earpiece instead and said something low I couldn't hear.
Another staff woman in a black dress stood behind him with her hands clasped tight in front of her. She stared at Maya crying and her mouth opened, then closed again. I waited for an adult to come help us up, to bring water or take us out of the hall. No one moved closer.
The onlookers were still frozen around the edges of the hall. An older man in a tux held his phone down at his side like he didn't know whether to use it. Two women in long dresses had their hands over their mouths. One of them kept shaking her head a little without taking her hands down. The sconces on the walls made everything too bright, too clear. I could see the lipstick smeared at the corner of the woman's mouth where she'd pressed her lips together.
She pushed her hair back with one hand and sat back on her heels. Her eyes were wet but angry.
"Look what they did," she said. Her voice was rough and too loud in the quiet. "They ruined my moment. In front of everyone."
Dad's arm tightened around us. He didn't look at her when he answered. He looked at me and at Maya.
"Don't listen," he said quietly. "Just breathe. Breathe with me, okay?"
Maya couldn't. Her breath hitched and caught, and she pressed her face harder into my vest. I could feel the damp spot spreading through my white shirt underneath. I tried to do what Dad said. I breathed in through my nose and it came out shaky. The air smelled like flowers and floor polish and something metallic from the chandeliers heating up.
"In," Dad whispered, and he breathed loudly so we could follow him. "Out. Good. Again."
I copied him. My shoulders dropped a little. Maya tried to copy too, but a sob broke through and she grabbed a fistful of my vest.
The staff man with the earpiece took a step toward the woman. "Ma'am," he said carefully, "let's —"
"Don't touch me," she snapped, without looking at him. She stayed on her knees, staring at Dad. "Tell them to get up. Tell them everyone is staring because of them."
Dad shook his head once. "I'm not letting go," he said. His voice was low but it carried. "Leave them alone."
The room seemed to narrow to the space around that bat. The staff man glanced down at it again. He clearly wanted to move it out of sight before more people saw, before someone took a picture. His fingers twitched at his side. But he didn't bend down. He looked at Dad holding us and at the woman on the floor, and he stayed where he was, blocking the view from the doors a little with his body.
Maya whispered against my vest, so small I almost missed it. "Leo?"
May you like
"I'm here," I whispered back. "I got you."
Dad heard her and pulled us in closer, his stubble scratching lightly against my temple. He kept glaring out at the circle of faces, daring somebody to come closer. Nobody did. The woman wiped under her eye with the back of her hand and stayed on the floor. The bat stayed where it had fallen, dark and untouched on the white marble, while all of us waited to see who would move first.
