The Haunted - Jessica Verday [14]
I didn’t have much time to rehearse.
“And I understand that you were a friend of Kristen Maxwell’s?” A big, round foam piece was stuck in my face, and the reporter turned my way simply by shifting her padded shoulders. It was seriously impressive. “You two went to school together, correct?” Picturing the little caption with my name spelled wrong that might appear on the TV screen if this piece ran on the news, I leaned forward to speak directly into the foam covering. “Yes,” I said a bit too loudly.
The woman’s face got kind of pinched around the eyes, and she tilted the microphone down and away from me.
Mom quickly slid into the picture and put one arm around me in a gesture of sympathy.
“Abbey and Kristen were best friends since they were seven years old. I think it’s wonderful that Kristen will be remembered this way.” Her arm tightened, and I tried to keep my smile on.
“And how do you feel about the fact that this tragedy occurred? Do you think the town of Sleepy Hollow could have done more to prevent it?” She didn’t pause for me to answer. “Do you think that construction-site safety needs to become a higher priority for our city?” I froze. She redirected the foam at me, and I just stood there with a blank smile. What was I supposed to say here? Did she want me to answer all of those questions? Or just the last one? Mom’s grip turned into an anaconda death squeeze, and I got the hint that she wanted me to stay quiet.
“I’m sure all of us wonder, Could we have done more? when tragedy strikes,” Mom said.
“As concerned citizens, we always want to learn how we can prevent something like this from ever happening again. We just have to do our best to make sure safety rules are followed to the fullest extent and push for better laws to protect our communities.” Mom was a real pro.
The cameraman made some sort of Wrap it up gesture with his hand, and the reporter stepped back in. “Truer words have never been spoken. I’m Cara Macklyn with Channel Eight News, reporting from the dedication ceremony at the Washington Irving Bridge.” We stood with frozen smiles on our faces until the camera guy called, “Aaaaand we’re out.” Then Mom complimented the reporter on her lovely outfit, the reporter complimented Mom on her lovely daughter, and I stood in the middle of it all, not knowing when would be the right time to stop smiling.
Finally we all shook hands, and then Mom shuffled me toward the podium. Mayor Archer was there now, studying several note cards, but he looked up as we approached. I said hello and went through another round of handshakes.
Mom stood by my side, looking so proud of me. But all I could think was, Why did I agree to do this? What if I mess up?
More perspiration trickled down my back, and immediately, I wanted a shower. It was hot and sticky out, and the growing crowd was adding to my overwhelming feeling of clamminess and unease.
Then it hit me.
I can’t do this! This is a lot of people. I can’t speak in front of crowds!
Taking deep breaths, I tried not to hyperventilate. But I could hear little gusts of air being sucked in and out as I started breathing faster and faster. Mom turned to me, and I saw the color leave her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“Crowds… can’t do it… feeling sick…”
“Yes, you can, Abbey,” she said. “It will be over before you know it. Just say a couple of words about Kristen, and then you’re through.”
I shook my head at her. “Can’t… do… it.” I looked around me. I needed to leave. I had to get out of here.
Mom must have realized my intentions to bolt, because she latched on to my arm and squeezed gently. The pressure actually managed to distract me from hyperventilating… a bit.
“You wrote down what you’re going to say, right?”
I nodded.