Echo

He exuded an unfamiliar bad smell.
    “Is my daddy here? I need him to come home; Abby’s on the floor.” Scotty danced nervously, his voice small and frightened, his wandering eye floating erratically.
    “I’m not gonna say it again. Don’t be bangin’ on this door.” The big man burped, sending a gust of rancid beer breath in Scotty’s face. He cringed, the door slamming in his face.
    Scotty knew saving Abby by himself would require some bravery.
    He ran outside into the dirty street, his heart pounding so hard he thought the bullies in the neighborhood might hear him. Choking back his sobs, he ran up and down the street, dodging cars and screaming for the police. He glimpsed the old grannies from the neighborhood that congregate at the corner, lounging in cheap plastic chairs, holding court on the sidewalks. He scrambled out of the street, hurrying toward them.
    “Abby’s going to die. She’s on the floor. Please, we need help.”
    Unable to hold back the tears overflowing his wild eyes, he dragged the grannies to his family’s apartment. A nice Muslim lady sat with him while two other black grannies made a few cell phone calls. Soon, three strapping black men entered the apartment. Scotty, positive they might rob the apartment, stuck to them like glue. Relieved, he watched them lift Abby in their arms and carry her out of the apartment. He tried to follow.
    “Hey kiddo, you stay here until your mom comes home. Your sister’s very sick. You need to hold the fort down. This nice lady will stay with you.” One of the black men, his eyes soft and moist, ran his hand along Scotty’s shoulder giving him a reassuring stroke and softly shut the door behind him.
    The nice Muslim lady stayed with him until his mommy came home from work. He hoped Abby didn’t die. Fear made him pray.
    He didn’t know much about what happened after that. His mommy asked him to stay in his room. He heard lots of crying and silences. Then his daddy came home and the screaming started. He didn’t know what it meant but he felt terror stricken anyway. He began to relax when the cops took his daddy away. Abby came home a week later, alive but painfully thin. Scotty began to sleep much, much better.
    A few days later, his mother silently handed him a cardboard box, telling him to pack his toys. She folded up all their clothes except for Daddy’s, the brace on her afflicted leg clanking around the apartment as she packed up their little lives.
    The night before the move, his mother sat them both down for a talk.
    “Scotty, do you understand we’re moving far away?” She pulled her light brown hair back in a ponytail; long wisps escaping to frame her thin stressed face, her voice low and tired.
    “Yes, Mommy,” he assured his mother, not understanding the meaning of far away . But he loved and trusted his mom. He knew every line on her wonderful face. A smile failed to appear as he scrutinized her expression. Somehow, he realized, she needed him to be okay with the move.
    Abby picked him up and sat him on her lap.
    “Honey, you shouldn’t strain yourself like that. The nurse said—”
    “Mom, it’s okay. Let me help.” She rocked Scotty on her lap. Her pretty face lit up, her affection for Scotty giving him confidence as he looked into her eyes, laughing. “You’re our big guy aren’t you, Scotty? It’s going to be you, me and Mom. What a great team. We can do anything; right?”
    “Right.” Shouting and laughing, he looked at his mom. “Right, Mommy?”
    “Right, baby; a great team.” She finally joined in the laughter, her children’s optimism infectious.

Chapter 2
    The scary move to Sussex County brought many changes, none the least, never again seeing his only playmate, Germaine. Germaine said he would beg his mom to bring him for a visit but Germaine didn’t have a daddy to drive him there.
    Luckily, Abby recovered from her sickness. Her physician’s assistant (she never actually saw a doctor, ever, not in her whole life) determined her kidney would have no lasting damage. Maybe . From now on, they must watch very carefully to make sure Abby got to her dialysis on time. It was critical . Mom told them about the cute little neighborhood not far from their new home that offered a health clinic with the services Abby needed. Relief washed over Scotty. He didn’t want to have to save Abby again. The traumatic event reverberated in his memory, too much for a little six-year-old boy.
    Their sad little