Slammed (Slammed #1)(65)

"Wait!" Caulder says. "What about Will? He needs to see us, too."

I usher my mother back into the hallway as I run to the front door, throw on my boots and go outside. He's pulling out of his driveway so I flag him down. I can see by the look on his face that he's hoping I've forgiven him. I immediately cease any false hope.

"You're still an ass**le, but your brother wants you to see his costume. Come in for a second." I return to the house.

When Will walks in I position him and my mother in front of the boys and tell them to open their eyes.

Kel is the right lung, Caulder is the left. The stuffed material is shaped so that their arms and head fit through small openings and the bottom is open to their waste and legs. We dyed the material so that it would reflect dead spots here and there. There are larger lumps protruding from the lungs in various places-the tumors. There is a long pause before Will and my mother react.

"It's disgusting," Will says.

"Repulsive," my mother adds.

"Hideous," I say.

The boys high five. Or, rather, the lungs high five. After we take pictures, I load them up in the jeep and I drop the pair of lungs off at school.

***

I'm not even halfway through second period when my phone starts vibrating. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the number. It's Will. Will never calls me. I assume he's trying to apologize so I put the phone back in my jacket. It vibrates again. He's calling again. I turn and look at Eddie.

"Will keeps calling me, should I answer?" I say. I don't know why I'm asking her. Maybe she's got some great advice.

"I dunno," she says.

Maybe not.

On his third attempt, I press the send button and put the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I whisper.

"Layken, it's me. Look, you've got to get to the elementary. There's been an incident and I can't get through to your mom. I'm in Detroit, I can't go."

"What? With who?" I whisper.

"Both of them, I guess. They aren't hurt; they just need someone to pick them up. Go! Call me back."

I quietly excuse myself from the classroom. Eddie follows me.

"What is it?" she says as we walk into the hallway.

"I don't know. Something with Kel and Caulder," I say.

"I'm going with you," she says.

***

When we arrive at the school, I sprint inside. I'm out of breath and on the verge of hysteria when we find the office. Kel and Caulder are both sitting in the lobby.

My feet won’t move fast enough as I run to them and hug them.

"Are y'all okay? What happened?"

They both shrug.

"We don’t know," Kel says. "They just told us we had to sit here until our parents came."

"Ms. Cohen?" someone says from behind me. I turn around and there is a slender woman with red hair looking at me. She's wearing a black pencil skirt and a white dress shirt. She looks more like a librarian than a principal. She gestures her hand toward her office and Eddie and I follow her.

The woman walks into her office and takes a seat at her desk, nodding to the chairs in front of her. Eddie and I both sit.

"I'm Ms. Brill. I'm the principal here at Chapman Elementary. Principal Brill."

The curt way she's speaking to me and her hoity toity posture have immediately turned me off. I already don't like her.

"Are Caulder's parents joining us?" she asks.

"Caulder's parents are dead," I reply.

She gasps, then attempts to control her reaction by sitting up even straighter. "Oh, that's right. I'm sorry," she says. "Is it his brother? He lives with his brother, right?"

I nod. "He's in Detroit, he can't make it. I'm Kel's sister. What's the problem?"

She laughs. "Well, isn't it obvious?" She gestures out her office window to them.

I look at the boys. They're playing rock-paper-scissors and laughing. I know she's referring to their costumes, but she's already lost my respect with her attitude, so I continue to act oblivious.

"Is rock-paper-scissors against school policy?" I ask.

Eddie laughs.

"Ms. Cohen," Principal Brill says. "They're dressed as cancerous lungs!" She shakes her head in disbelief.

"I thought they were rotten kidney beans," Eddie says.

We both laugh.

"I don't think this is funny," Principal Brill says. "They're causing a distraction amongst the students! Those are very offensive and crude costumes! I don't know who thought it was a good idea, but you need to take them home and change their clothes."

My focus returns to Principal Brill as I slowly turn around and lean forward, placing my arms on her desk.

"Principal Brill," I say calmly. "Those costumes were made by my mother. My mother, who has stage four small-cell lung cancer. My mother, who will never watch her little boy celebrate another Halloween again. My mother, who will more than likely experience a year of 'lasts.' Last Christmas. Last birthday. Last Easter. And if God is willing, her last Mother's Day. My mother, who when asked by her nine-year-old son if he could be her cancer for Halloween, had no choice but to make him the best cancerous tumor-ridden lung costume she could. So if you think it's so offensive, I suggest you drive them home yourself and tell my mother to her face. Do you need my address?"