by Piper Hannah
It was almost midnight, and Buffy and I were both sitting on the floor in my bedroom. “Sorry for leaving you with the angel earlier,” I said. “I don’t think he would have hurt you, anyway. Besides, I think you were safer in the backyard.” I patted her head and gave her a beef jerky. “The carjacking didn’t go very well.”
If a dog was a man’s best friend, then how could I have left mine alone in the face of danger? How did I not even think about taking Buffy with me in my mad dash out of the house with Emma? Poor dog, left alone with an angel. Okay. It didn't sound that bad now, but on panic mode, I couldn’t have known that Buffy would be safe when I left her earlier. I supposed it was just another thing to be guilty about.
I tossed the bag of beef jerky on my night stand. I had just apologized to the dog; now, it was my sister’s turn. I looked at the clock on my desk. It was almost midnight. I got up and sat on the bed. I picked up the walkie-talkie on my nightstand and pressed the button.
“Em?”
No response.
I pressed the button again. “Em, are you up?”
I almost gave up, but after a long pause, Emma answered me. Her voice was soft and cute.
“Come on over. I can’t sleep, anyway. Over and out,” she said.
I smiled. Since she was six years-old, Emma always got to say ‘over and out’ because she always wanted the last word; I still let it slide.
I snuck out of my room and was in her room across the hall in two seconds flat. I closed the door gently so Mom and Dad wouldn’t wake up. Emma was on her bed. She was tucked in, her head was on a pillow, and a school book was on her chest.
There were several books scattered on the floor, which was so out of place in her very tidy room; it was my only indication of how upset my little sister really was with me. Emma was perfectly organized, just like our Dad, and Mom and I always joked that they both suffered from OCD. Seeing the mess on her floor was like a chip on her perfectly constructed and very shiny armor; it made me feel really awful.
I bit my lower lip as I sat on the edge of her bed.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “When I dragged you out of here, I thought I was protecting you. I did it with the best of intentions, which is why you should forgive me.” My speech sounded rehearsed, even to my ears. I nearly got her killed, so she really needed to hear my apology.
Emma sat up and tossed her book on the floor. It landed with a soft thud on the carpet.
“Why did you drag me out of here?” she asked. “You never said.”
“I thought I saw someone - a stranger - in the house.”
“You thought?”
I nodded.
“What happened today… my brain… ummm… it’s really fried,” she said.
I nodded again. Unfortunately, I understood what she meant about the fried brains. My brain was in the same exact condition. “Just tell me we’re fine. I need to hear you say it,” I said.
“There’s no smoke,” Emma murmured.
I tried to smile. It was her way of telling me we were fine.
“And there’s no fire,” I responded. It was my way of saying the same thing. I smiled at her and got up. As long as we were fine, nothing else needed to be said.
I walked out of Emma’s room and closed the door behind me. Then, I leaned my head against her door, trying extremely hard not to bang my head on it.
Why am I such an irresponsible nut case? And after acting recklessly and almost getting us killed, how can my little sister forgive me so easily?