Teaser Tuesday

From my work-in-progress DUB GIRLS:

“It’ll be fun, Anna,” Mom says. “We haven’t been paying for those expensive guitar lessons for you just to play by yourself in your bedroom for the rest of your life.”

She goes right for the guilt-trip. Nice. Mentioning the band was a mistake. I think maybe, on some subconscious level, I brought it up because I knew she would talk me into it. And I know I’ll allow her to talk me into it, because now if I don’t join Joey’s stupid band, I’m committing myself to hearing about it until I move out of my mother’s house.

I open my mouth to throw out a smart-assed retort because I’m in the mood for a fight, but before any words can come out, Ethan makes that sound. The one that causes my stomach to plummet while my heart stops beating entirely.

I hit the floor a split second after he does, and I pull his head into my lap before he can slam it against the hardwood floors. His eyes are fluttering and his jaw is clenched, drool already starting to seep out between his teeth. His jerking movements are too violent for me to control completely, and I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself.

“Pillows!” I scream at my mother. “Move! Now!”

I’m the only one in the family who can think rationally through Ethan’s seizures. Everyone else just freezes in their panic. I’m vaguely aware of Jacob’s wails—they’re the normal background noise during a seizure—and Mom’s feet pounding past me and Ethan on her way to the living room. In less than two seconds, she’s shoving two throw pillows from the couch into my arms. I use them to cradle Ethan’s head as I try to talk him into coming back to me.

“C’mon little man,” I whisper into his ear. “Come out of it. I’m waiting for you, Ethan. Just come back.”

I’m trying to count in my head while I soothe him. Is it after five minutes that we need to start worrying about brain damage? When his face starts to turn blue, I stop worrying about counting.

“Call nine-one-one,” I tell Mom. Her choked sob drags my eyes away from Ethan’s face. She already has the phone in her hand. Good.

Ethan finally relaxes in my arms, falling into a deep sleep. I brush his damp hair off his forehead, occasionally needing to wipe away the tears that fall onto his baby-soft skin, as I listen to my mother give the dispatcher a quick summary of Ethan’s condition and our address.

This is why I can’t join Joey’s band. Forget all my superficial worries about stage fright and sucking in front of people who aren’t afraid to tell us how awful we sound.

“Pick up Jacob,” I tell Mom once she’s off the phone. The baby is crying so hard in his high chair, he’s starting to choke. Aidan slides off his chair and squats beside me on the floor. His huge eyes are welling with tears, but he’s the only one of us who’s managed to hold it totally together. He leans over and gently kisses his big brother’s cheek.

“Ee-tan, o-tay?” he asks me.

“Yeah, buddy. Ethan’s okay. He just needs to go see a doctor, but he probably won’t even need a shot. That’s good news, right?”

Aidan stands and places a chubby hand on my shoulder. “Anna tay?”

I carefully free my hand from underneath Ethan’s head so I can wrap my arm around Aidan and pull him into me. I bury my face in his neck and inhale the sweet scent of toddler sweat and Johnson’s baby shampoo.

“I promise, Aidan. I’m not leaving you.”