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Sara walks to school, Diogee close by her heels. She will send him home. Later, when she is already at the school. Around other people. Safe. And then Diogee will reappear at the end of the day. It doesn’t feel right. She thinks that the dog might be scared for her safety, but she isn’t the one in danger! Milo is. Diogee should be protecting Milo as they go on crazy adventures, not protecting her from whatever took Milo away.
She hears a half familiar voice and turns to see Elliot Decker talking to some other people. Elliot is loud, but normally she wouldn’t pay him half a mind. The problem is the subject matter. “- he was a hazard! I feel sorry for his family and all, but why would I feel sad?”
“Excuse me?” The words are out of her mouth before her brain has caught up. She marches right over. Diogee growls at Elliot, unusually aggressive. The dog has been acting like that more often since Milo went missing. But to be fair, so has she.
Elliot at least has the decency to look embarrassed. But apparently not the decency to shut up. “I’m just saying, I want everyone to be safe. And everybody is safer now that Milo Murphy isn’t around.”
Sara’s cheeks are burning. Her stomach is burning too, and her throat. “Safe? Safe?! Milo could be anywhere! He could be dead, or hurt, and you’re saying that it’s a good thing?!”
“Or he could be safe! You don-“
“He’s been missing for ages, he’s not safe! Don’t even try to pull that crap, that’s worse than everyone going on about ‘everything is going to be alright’, because it won’t be!” Words spill from her mouth, and she can’t stop them. The words burn and burn, smoke rising from them to choke her throat and irritate her eyes. “Even if we found Milo tomorrow, he wouldn’t be alright! He would be hurt, and he would be scared, and- and how could you say that?” She takes a step closer, balling up her fist.
Elliot takes a step backwards. “Calm dow-“
“Calm down?! No, I will not calm down! Why does everyone want me to calm down?! My little brother is missing, he might be dead, he might be locked in some sicko’s basement, and I’m supposed to ‘stay calm’ and ‘stay positive’ and ‘stay hopeful’, but I can’t!” Are people gathering around now? She can’t see anything, the smoke blocking her view. Diogee nudges her leg, whining. She should stop and walk away. She knows that.
But she can’t stop all of her stress and fear, her anger and grief, from pouring out of her and onto the shocked looking crossing guard. “How can I be optimistic when Milo’s missing? Milo’s the optimistic one! Milo is hopeful and positive and brilliant and he’s gone, how am I supposed to be anything other than terrified?! He’s just a little kid! He’s strong, he’s so strong, but he’s so little…”
This time she cuts Elliot off before he can even speak. Her voice gets faster and faster, angrier and angrier, smoke spilling from her mouth as she breathes fire at him, her fists clenching so tightly that it hurts. “And you’re talking about him like he’s some sort of… some sort of problem, a solved problem, you horrible, selfish-“
She doesn’t make a conscious decision. She just swings.
She hears a thud, and a cry of pain. She stares at her own hand, then at Elliot. Elliot, who is clutching his face, backing away from her. She looks around and sees people staring, people whispering, people talking.
“Sara Murphy!”
And there’s the principal.
———
They rush to the school, confused and panicked. They wouldn’t have panicked before, but now? Now, it’s different.
They are taken to the principal’s office. The principal looks serious and stern, her brow creased. Sara sits at the other side of the desk, arms folded, glaring at her lap.
“What’s wrong? You said that there was an ‘incident’?” Brigette says, sitting down next to Sara and looking her up and down. She sees no injuries, nothing aside from a bruised hand. Martin sits down on Sara’s other side, enclosing her. Protecting her.
The principal sighs. “Sara punched the crossing guard.”
They both turn to stare at her. That definitely wasn’t what they were expecting. “Why did you do that?” Brigette blurts out.
Sara sinks lower in her seat. Her slouched positions, her tightly crossed arms, it looks like she’s folding herself up. Making herself smaller. Holding something in. “He said that it’s safer without Milo around. I got angry.” Her voice is brimming with unshed tears, with held back anger, with dozens of emotions. “Look, can’t I just take the detentions or suspension or whatever and get on with it? Mom and dad have more important things to worry about.”
“This isn’t about punishment Sara. We are all worried about you.” The principal tries to meet her eyes. Sara expertly avoids it. “You are quiet in class, and then lash out at your classmates. You do no work in class, and that’s when you even attend class. How many times have you skipped in the last few months?”
Sara somehow sinks lower. Martin puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, trying to impart some measure of comfort. Sara leans closer to him, even as she still avoids looking at the principal. “It’s not that bad.”
“Sara, this isn’t about punishing you or embarrassing you. I know how hard this must be for you, and I want to help you.” Her principal says.
Her parents exchange a look over her head. Of course they knew that Sara was struggling. But she is practically drowning. Even now, they see tears burning in her eyes, see her digging her nails into her arms enough to break the skin. Her mom takes her hands and pulls them away, holding them gently but firmly.
Sara goes home early that day. She sits in the backseat, Diogee on her lap. A warm, silent presence. She strokes his fluffy fur. “I’m sorry.” She mutters, not even able to meet her parents’ eyes. “I know that you’ve got enough to worry about without me screwing stuff up.”
“Sara, you’re our daughter. Worrying about you is our job.” Her mom says, leaning back to rest a hand on her knee.
“I’m not the one who’s missing.” Sara feels so guilty. She can’t cope with schoolwork, or classes, or stupid comments, or stupid crossing guards. But her little brother is missing. She should be helping whenever she can, and staying out of the way and not being a problem when she can’t help.
“I know.” Her dad’s sigh is choked with grief. “But looking after you doesn’t stop us from searching for your brother.”
Sara nods, resting her chin on Diogee. She feels like an overfilled container, always mere seconds from shattering. From breaking, like she did today. But she can’t do that, she needs to stay whole. Stay together.
Her parents talk to her on the way home. They help her talk about Milo, about how stressed and frightened and overwhelmed she feels. And she feels a little less overfilled after that. A little less likely to explode.