Cassie fluffed the pillows on her bed and wiggled down under her comforter so that only the top of her head peeked out. Nestled in a pile of pillows and fluffy covers she sighed with contentment, pulled out her book, and began to read.
“Cassie,” her mom bellowed from downstairs. “Cassie, can you come to the kitchen please?”
Whyyy must everyone in this house always yell? She kicked off her comforter and lay strewn across her bed waiting in silence for her mom to yell up the stairs again.
“Cassie...?” louder this time.
She flopped out of bed and stomped down the stairs to the kitchen.
“I need you....” her mother stopped talking long enough to peek at her recipe before continuing, “I need you...” she stopped again for a doubletake “... to take your brother to the park. He has been stuck inside all day and we finally have a break in the rain.”
“Nooo....” Cassie moaned. “I have tons of homework. Why cant we just hire someone to watch him?”
“I just did,” joked her mom. “You.”
“I’m not for hire.” She regretted the comment as soon as she said it. A silent protest followed by a door slam would’ve been more effective.
“Thanks, love,” her mom said, ignoring the curt response and instead handing her Jack’s windbreaker and a giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Cassie led their march to the park by walking just quickly enough for Jack to have to struggle to keep up. He jog-skipped alongside her, chatting happily, his little stuffed Froggy swinging at his side. She grabbed his hand as they crossed the street.
It had been a more than a week of rainy days and even the thick grey clouds that hung heavy in the sky seemed ready for a break. There were no other kids at the playground and the ground was covered as much standing water as mulch.
“Go play,” she ordered, plopped herself down onto the park bench, and opened her book.
“Play with me,” he protested. She didn't respond and when he called out to her to watch him go down the slide a few minutes later she pretended she didn't hear him.
Cassie had made her through the next several pages of her book uninterrupted when Jack wordlessly thrust a bouquet of partially crushed leaves under her face. She looked up at him, he had snot running down his nose.
“Go away,” she said. His little face fell, but he busied himself by replanting the bouquet in the gravel near her feet. It occurred to Cassie that she should zip-up his windbreaker, but he scampered off before she made the decision to act, and she returned her attention to her book.
“He’s very sweet,” a voice interrupted Cassie’s reading, “My granddaughter also has Down-syndrome, and your brother reminds me of her. Such a gentle nature,” and after a pause she softly added, “and forgiving one.” As she said this last part, the elderly woman patted Cassie gently, smiled at her kindly, and left the park with her little dog.
Cassie felt a wave of embarrassment; she hopped off the bench, crouched down, replanting Jack’s little weed creation firmly into the gravel.
“Jack,” she yelled before she had even finished securing the bouquet. “Jack your flowers are growing!” She called out to him with the kind of over-the-top excitement that he loved.
There was no response. She looked up at the playground equipment. There was nobody there.
Cassie’s heart stopped and she yelled out his name again this time questioningly. She dashed around the playground looking - he wasn't there.
She scanned the horizon and saw only stillness in every direction. How had he disappeared so quickly? how long had she been looking at her book? Then out of the corned of her eye she saw a speck of green. Froggy was flopped over the railway ties that lined the outside of the playground
The creek! She sprinted the 500 meters to the creek that wound its way through their neighborhood and slid down the muddy creek bed — no sign of Jack. The tennis courts! Cassie slipped and slid up the embankment and then sprinted to the far side of the empty parking lot to get a clear view of the tennis courts where she would sometimes bring Jack so that he could sit-ride his skateboard until someone kicked them out. There was no sign of Jack.
Cassie was crying now as she yelled out Jack’s name. Never had she wished so desperately to hear his little voice.
Maybe she hadn't looked carefully enough at the creek. He loved lifting rocks to look for crayfish, it was possible that he had been crouched down looking for the perfect submerged rock and hadn't heard her calling - he was so little after all, easy to miss. She ran back to the creek, the memory of his joy at uncovering a crayfish giving her a sudden false hope.
“Jack,” she yelled out wading into the creek this time and listened to the loudest silence she had ever heard. He just simply wasn’t here.
The rain had begun again and the sky was dark as Cassie ran all the way home. As she turned up the driveway to their house she stopped short—through the window she could see into her warmly lit kitchen; Cassie saw mom at the stove, her two older sisters sitting at the kitchen table talking animatedly, and sitting between them at the table was Jack.
Cassie, soaking wet and covered in mud, walked into the kitchen, pushed past her sister at the table, and squeezed herself onto Jack’s chair.
She gathered Jack into her arms and pulled Froggy out of her pocket.
“Froggy,” Cassie said holding the the little green stuffed animal at arms length, “Tell Jack I love him.”
“Froggy!” Jack snatched him out of Cassie’s hands and cuddled into Cassies arms.
“I love you too Cassie,” he said.
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