Dance with Me

Piece of cake.
From inside the site, he heard a funny buzz and then a harsh clank. The
hairs on Pete’s arms stood up.
“What the hell—
watch out
!” someone shouted.
Pete spotted something moving fast in his peripheral vision. His head
turned in time to see a circular buzz saw blade flying in his direction,
reminding him of a flying Frisbee with sharp teeth.
His jaw went slack. His adrenaline spiked. He dove backward as the
round blade flew through the air toward him. He held up his hand in
defense, like maybe he could catch it, then he realized that was the worst
thing to do and tried to pull his hand out of the path of the flying blade. He
thought he was home free when he felt it slice into his flesh just above his
wrist, followed by a sharp stinging.
He crashed to the ground, his drink pouring over him. Air gushed out of
his lungs. His eyes were wide as he lifted his arm, watching in shock as
blood poured down his skin.
“Oh man, kid! Someone call 911!” A construction worker rushed to his
side, grabbing on to his helmet as if not sure what to do with his hands. “Let
me get a clean rag. Just don’t move!” The worker ran off, and other people
started to gather around.
“Kid, are you okay?” A man in a suit stood above Pete and leaned down.
He had a phone to his ear. “Hello, yeah. There’s been an accident. There’s a
teenager—he’s bleeding. On the arm. Uh, at a construction site on
Willington and Salisbury. Hurry, please … don’t worry, kid, help is on the
way. Yes, he is conscious …”
Dazed, Pete glanced at the open gash on his arm. It wasn’t very deep.
But …
He could have died.

---

“Pete!” Mom yelled as soon as she stepped into the house. “Pete!”
“In my room,” he called out. He was lying on his bed, staring at the
ceiling. After the paramedic bandaged him up at the construction site, he
called his mom and walked back home. He didn’t even want to wait for a
ride—he wanted to get as far away from the construction site as possible.
Now his energy was spent. He’d noticed his back was sore, so he’d gone to
the bathroom and lifted his shirt in front of the mirror. As if his sliced arm
wasn’t bad enough, he also had a bunch of fresh scratches on his back from
falling on the sidewalk.
Yesterday, he’d had a couple of close calls, but this latest accident was
more dangerous. This time there was actual blood.
Mom swept into his bedroom in a flurry of nerves. “Oh my gosh! Oh my
baby!”
Pete sighed. “Mom, I’m okay. It’s a small wound. I didn’t need stitches.
Everything is fine.”
She grabbed his hand, scanning the bandage on his arm. “How did this
happen?” She felt his cheek, ran a hand over his head, and gave him a kiss
on his forehead.
Pete looked at his arm and answered honestly. “Don’t know, really.”
Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Were you not
paying attention? Was the construction worker being negligent? Do we need
to call a lawyer? Maybe we 
should
go to the hospital.”
“No. Okay, Mom? Just relax. Geez.” While it was kind of nice to have
all of her attention for once, her anxiety put him on edge.
“No, I am not relaxing. You could have really gotten hurt.” She
straightened and crossed her arms with a determined look on her face.
“That’s it. You are 
not
walking to school anymore. You can ride a bus or get
a ride. Maybe I can change my schedule. I’ll drive you and your brother to
school. I think I can make it all work.” Then she placed her hands on her
hips as if she was suddenly Wonder Woman and there was nothing that
could stop her. “I 
will
make it work.”
“Mom, stop. It was just a … freak accident.” Which he’d been having a
lot of lately.
There was a knock at the front door before it swung open.
Pete shot up in his bed, startled. “Who the hell is that?”

---

“Pete, your language.”
“Hello, anybody home?” bellowed a familiar voice.
Pete stared at his mom accusingly. “You called 
Dad
?”
She said “Of course I called your father. Over here, Bill. In Pete’s room.”
Quickly, she started to pick up dirty clothes that were thrown on the floor.
“I have to call him when there’s an emergency. Gosh, Pete, this room is a
mess.”
Like that was anything new.
Dad filled the doorway, wearing cargo pants and a T-shirt, with his
pocket vest and a floppy canvas hat.
There was a forced smile buried under his scruffy beard. “There’s my
boy.”
“You were fishing?” Mom asked him, surprised.
“No, not yet. I took the rest of the day off. Making it an early weekend.
I’m here to take my firstborn with me to the lake. How you doing there,
Pete? Let’s see that arm.” His dad stepped toward the bed, kicking water
bottles as he went. His jaw hardened, but he didn’t say anything about the
mess.
Pete raised his arm for his dad’s inspection, unsure what to make of his
visit. He hadn’t seen his dad in a couple of months. Only talked to him on
the phone a few times. Suddenly he was home, like 
really
home. He hadn’t
been inside the house in nearly six months. It used to be so normal to have
Mom and Dad home together and now … it felt super awkward.
Dad made a 
humph
sound. “Doesn’t look too bad. You’ll be good as new
before you know it.”
“Um, yeah, well. I don’t think I’m up to fishing today, Dad.” In fact, he