The Sassy Collection

  Some kids jump off the stage. Others hurry down the steps. Everybody heads for the back doors.

  Then Bike rushes into the auditorium. “This is not a drill!” he shouts loudly in his deep bass voice. “It’s a real fire! Get out! Get out! Get out now!”

  My heart starts to beat really fast. Fire?

  Mr. Wood asks no questions but continues to rush everyone out of the room. “Quickly, children!” he cries. “Leave everything!”

  Kids are hurrying down the aisle. I can smell smoke.

  Jasmine grabs my hand. “Come on, Sassy! We have to get out of here!” Bike takes her other hand and rushes us outside. Then he runs back in.

  Boys in sparkly vests are hurrying out the back door of the auditorium. Holly wears her dance shoes. Carmelita looks scared. But all of us get outside in no time. Mr. Wood and Bike are the last ones to come out of the building.

  “Is everyone here?” Bike asks.

  Mr. Wood counts heads and then counts us again. “Yes. Thankfully. All my students are here and safe.”

  We can hear the fire sirens. They sound really close. Then a bright green fire truck turns the corner.

  “Awesome!” Travis makes fire siren noises of his own.

  Jasmine and I roll our eyes.

  “I thought all fire trucks were red,” Holly says.

  “Some are bright green,” Rusty explains, “so that cars can see them better.”

  This time Rusty and Abdul roll their eyes at us.

  “What happened?” Mr. Wood asks Bike as the firemen rush inside.

  “One of us was working with a torch and a little spark flew in the wrong direction,” Bike explains.

  “What burned?” Travis asks.

  “Just a pile of trash and sawdust our cleanup crew had left in the lobby of the auditorium,” Bike replies. “It’s not a big fire — we actually just about put it out ourselves.”

  “So why the fire department?” Abdul wonders.

  “Oh, we’re required by law to make sure our workplace is safe for the workers as well as for the students. The fire department has to make an investigation and file a report, and will probably give us a citation for being unsafe.” He looks unhappy about that.

  “Will we be able to continue rehearsal now?” Mr. Wood asks him.

  “Oh, no, sir. You can send the kids home. The auditorium will be off-limits for several hours.”

  “For a trash fire?”

  “Sorry.” Bike shrugs. “Rules. Regulations. Legalities. You understand.”

  Mr. Wood turns to me. “Sassy, please collect all the vests and the props. I’ll put them in my car. Then I’ll take everyone to the office so you can call your parents to pick you up early. They will be worried when they hear news of a fire at school.”

  I nod at him, look at my clipboard, and reach down into my sack for a marker.

  My heart starts to beat faster than when they yelled “Fire!” My sack is not on my shoulder! Then I remember. I went to turn on the video player. I left my bag in the front row of the auditorium. Then Jasmine grabbed my hand and we ran out with Bike.

  I gasp as I realize what has happened. My Sassy Sack is still in there with all my stuff! OMG, my piccolo!

  “Mr. Wood!” I cry out in alarm. “I have to go back in the auditorium! My Sassy Sack is in there!”

  “Your what?”

  “My Sassy Sack. My purse. My bag.” My stomach feels gurgly. “I have to get it out of the auditorium. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Sassy, but you’re not going to be able to get back in there this afternoon. It will be fine, and you can get it first thing in the morning.”

  “But I never go anywhere without it!” I wail.

  “It’s just a purse.”

  “No, it’s not! It’s part of me. It’s got all my important stuff in there!”

  “I’m sure whatever is in there will be just fine until tomorrow.”

  “Please!” I beg.

  “I can’t, Sassy. The fire department has blocked all the doors. Nobody can get back in there. Not you. Not me.”

  I sit down on the grass and hold my head my hands. I gulp loudly. I’m trying not to cry.

  Jasmine sits down next to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “It will be okay, Sassy. Your sack will be waiting for you in the morning.”

  “But it’s never been away from me — not since I got it when I was seven years old. Never.” I feel cold and I shiver.

  “I know,” she says, giving me a big hug. “This is just plain terrible!”

  I try once more to convince Mr. Wood. “If I don’t come home with that bag, I’ll be in big trouble with my mom.”

  “I’m sure she’ll understand that it was an emergency situation,” Mr. Wood says in that voice that grown-ups use to quiet kids who are upset.

  I’m feeling desperate. “But I have something really special in there,” I tell him. “It’s kind of expensive. My mother will not be happy if I don’t come home with it.”

  “You know you’re not supposed to bring expensive items to school, Sassy,” Mr. Wood says in a warning voice. “Is it a video game player?”

  “No,” I say quietly.

  “A cell phone?”

  “My mother won’t let me have one,” I tell him.

  “Then what is it?” he asks gently. He sounds like he really does feel sorry for me.

  I take a deep breath. “It’s my instrument — my piccolo.”

  “You play the piccolo?”

  “Yes. For the past year or so.”

  “And she’s really good at it,” Jasmine adds. “She plays way better than she sings!”

  I smile a tiny little smile.

  Mr. Wood grins. “Well, that’s wonderful news, Sassy! I can’t wait until the construction is completed and we have our new orchestra room. I’d love to hear you play.”

  “I can’t play it if it’s missing,” I tell him quietly.

  “It’s not missing. It’s in your bag, which is in the auditorium, which is locked down until morning.”

  “I just gotta have that bag!” I say helplessly. “It’s like my third hand.”

  “Yeah, the hand with all the rings and ribbons and ruffles,” Holly says, joining us. “Sassy really does need that bag, Mr. Wood. She’s just not Sassy without it.”

  Mr. Wood looks like he almost understands how bad I feel. Almost. “I wish I could do something, but I can’t,” he tells me.

  “Bike, can you help me?” I turn to him, pleading.

  “Sorry, kid,” Bike says, shaking his head. “Fire marshal says nobody gets in there. Nobody. I’m really sorry.”

  Mr. Wood reaches out a hand to help me stand up. I rise slowly. “What am I going to do?” I ask Jasmine. I feel so empty and lost without my Sassy Sack.

  “Let’s go call your mom, explain to her what happened, and then we can all go out for pizza to help make you feel better.”

  “I don’t think I can eat,” I whisper. “I just want to go home and pray for it to be morning.”

  She squeezes my hand. I’m glad she’s my friend. She understands how bad I feel.

  Mr. Wood gathers up the vests and props that kids have left on the grass next to me. I glance back at the firemen swarming all over. Then we all walk slowly to the school office.

  I wait in line with the other kids who don’t have cell phones and I call Mom. “Can you pick me up early?” I ask.

  “Sure, Sassy. Rehearsal is over already?”

  “There was a fire at school.”

  “Fire? Oh, my goodness!”

  “It was just a little trash fire in the lobby of the auditorium. It was no big deal.”

  “A fire at school is always a big deal! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. There was just a little smoke by the time the firefighters got here.”

  “Firefighters? I’m rushing right over there!”

  “Mom, listen. I’m fine. The fire was tiny, but because it was caused by the workers who are doing the school constructio
n, they have to file safety reports and stuff. So they locked down the auditorium.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing. I’m glad they are worrying about safety.”

  “No, Mom, that’s not a good thing. They locked my Sassy Sack in the auditorium and they won’t let me go back in there! Mom, what am I gonna do?”

  “I’ll be right over, Sassy. We’ll figure something out.”

  I hang up the phone and let the next kid call home.

  I tell Jasmine, “My mom is on her way. You want a ride home?”

  “Thanks, but my mother will be here in a minute. She heard about the fire on the news and she jumped in her car to come and get me. She said the report made it seem like it was a huge, flaming firestorm.”

  “I’m glad it wasn’t,” I tell her. “But I wish they’d let me get my bag.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jasmine touches me on the arm.

  When Mom arrives, she hugs me, then says, “Are you all right, Sassy?” She looks concerned — I guess because of all the fire equipment still sitting in front of the school.

  “I’m fine, Mom. The school is fine. It was just a small fire. But my Sassy Sack is …” I can’t even finish the sentence.

  Mom gives me a bear hug this time. “It will be morning before you know it,” she says. “Let’s go home and get some dinner, okay?”

  “But my piccolo is in my sack, Mom. What about my lesson?” In all the time I’ve been taking lessons, I’ve only missed one, and that was because Mrs. Rossini was sick.

  “We’ll call Mrs. Rossini, explain to her what happened, and I’m sure we can reschedule your lesson.”

  “Mom, can’t you make them open the auditorium so I can get my sack?”

  She kneels down in front of me so she can look me in the eye. “No, Sassy, I can’t. But I’ll come with you in the morning to make sure we get in there first thing, okay?”

  I nod, but nothing is really okay.

  Jasmine’s mom rushes in with lots of other scared parents. Mr. Wood explains to everyone what happened, and that there is nothing to worry about.

  But I’ve got big worries.

  Jasmine and I wave good-bye, and we both get in our cars so our moms can drive us home.

  When we get to our house I ask Mom, “Can I call Grammy?”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Sassy.” She hands me the phone, and I punch in the numbers.

  Grammy’s voice always makes me feel better. “Hi, Sassy,” she says cheerfully. “I’m so glad you called! How was your day?”

  “Not good, Grammy.”

  Instantly, her voice sounds soothing, like a hug. “What’s wrong?”

  “My Sassy Sack is missing!” I whisper into the phone.

  “Oh, Sassy! I know you must be hurting. What happened?”

  I tell her about the workers and the fire and the locked auditorium. “I’ve never been without it, Grammy. Not since you gave it to me.”

  “I’m sure it will be waiting for you in the morning. It’s probably missing you, too.”

  She makes me giggle a little.

  “How are rehearsals going for the show?” Grammy asks. I think she’s trying to change the subject.

  “Pretty good,” I tell her.

  “Poppy and I are going to come and see it, you know.”

  “But I’m not in it!” I remind her.

  “You’re the stage manager, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I have to be backstage the whole time.”

  “Would the show be successful without you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess not. I like being in charge.”

  “I know you do. You’re a natural leader, Miss Sassy!”

  She makes me feel proud.

  “But you don’t have to come all the way from Florida just to see a show where I’ll be behind the curtain the whole time.”

  I tell her this, but I hope she comes anyway. I love being with Grammy.

  “Didn’t I come when Sadora had one line in her school play?”

  “Yep. All she had to do was announce, ‘Welcome to the Alcazar!’ to the actors onstage.”

  “And didn’t I come when Sabin’s picture was chosen for the art show?”

  “Of course he painted a plate of food!” I say with a laugh.

  “So you know I’ll be there to see the show that you’re stage managing.”

  “Thanks, Grammy,” I tell her. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Sassy. I know you’ll find your sack tomorrow.”

  I feel better when I hang up. But I still worry about my Sassy Sack. It’s all alone in that big old auditorium. Without me.

  So is my piccolo.

  The next morning I am awake, up, and dressed before anybody in the house. I’m actually surprised that I was able to sleep at all.

  I’m dressed in my dumb old blue-and-white school uniform, waiting at the kitchen table, when Mom comes downstairs to fix breakfast.

  “Oh, my!” she says. “You surprised me.”

  “Can we go early, Mom? Please?”

  “You need to eat breakfast first, Sassy. But I promise I’ll get you there as quickly as I can.”

  She pours me a glass of orange juice, but I just sip it.

  “Your hair is a mess,” Mom says. “Hand me your brush so I can tame it a little.”

  “My brush is in my Sassy Sack,” I reply glumly.

  “Oh, yes. I forgot. Sorry, Sassy.” She starts to scramble some eggs. I feel like those eggs this morning — all scrambled and runny and broken.

  Sadora comes into the kitchen next. She goes to high school and gets to wear whatever she wants to school. Today she’s wearing a short gold skirt, yellow leggings, and an orange sweater. She looks like sunlight to me.

  “Hey, Little Sister,” she says as she pours juice for herself. “I’m so sorry about your sack. But you’ll get it back this morning, and that Sassy smile will come back to your face.”

  I try to smile for her. As older sisters go, she’s pretty cool. She just got her driver’s license, and sometimes Mom will let her drive me and my friends to the mall. Sometimes she even gives me extra spending money when we get there.

  Then Sabin and Zero bound into the kitchen. “Hey, Sassy! Can I get a candy bar? How about a Band-Aid for my pinkie finger? You got a couple of pencils I can hold till school gets out? And maybe some paper clips for my project?” Then my brother laughs and tries to tickle me.

  I just glare, then throw my toast at him. He knows all that stuff is in my bag. He ducks, and Zero makes a perfect catch, gobbling the toast in one swallow.

  “Don’t worry, Little Sister. You’ll be cool soon when you’ve got that thing slung across your chest once more. I don’t know how you even keep up with all that junk in there!”

  “Sabin, don’t tease your sister,” Mom says. “Suppose you lost something very special to you.”

  “It’s not lost!” I tell Mom. “It’s just locked up in the auditorium.” I get up from the table. “I’m waiting in the car.”

  Sabin actually forgets most of his stuff every day. He finally gets in the car after he has to run back into the house for his sneakers, his lunch, and his violin. I don’t say anything. I just want them to hurry up.

  When we finally get to my school, Mom goes with me to the office.

  “We’re trying to find a lost item that was left in the auditorium yesterday,” Mom explains to the secretary. “My daughter’s purse.”

  It is so much more than a purse to me, but I don’t say anything.

  “Not a problem, ma’am,” she replies. “Everything is unlocked now and ready for the school day. Feel free to go and get what you need.”

  We head down the hall and around the corner toward the auditorium. The bell has not yet rung for class. Lots of kids are in the hall, talking or reading or playing video games. Travis rolls by in those tennis shoes with built-in wheels. He waves as he passes us.

  I feel funny walking with my mother. I wonder if kids think I’m in tr
ouble.

  When we get to the lobby of the auditorium, I can see a small black area on the floor where the fire had been. Everything else has been swept clean.

  Mom pulls open the door. The auditorium lights are on, and it looks exactly as we’d left it. The video player is still in the middle row, Rusty’s science book is on the floor where he’d dropped it, and two hula hoops lay on the stage. I run full speed down the aisle to the front row. I could have beaten Travis on his shoe skates.

  I’m smiling before I even get to the front of the auditorium. I reach the front row and extend my hands to grab that bag. But it’s not there. It’s not there!

  I look under the seats. Nothing. I check the next row. Nothing. My heart is starting to beat really fast.

  Mom approaches me and asks, “Where is it, Sassy?”

  I’m almost afraid to answer. “I don’t know, Mom. It’s not where I left it!”

  I check under every single seat in every single row in the auditorium. My hands and the knees of my slacks get filthy. Mom helps. She checks the stage area, backstage, even the dressing room and the room where they keep costumes for the drama class.

  But my Sassy Sack is not to be found. It’s gone.

  “Mom!” I gasp. “What am I going to do?” I’m trying not to cry, but I am very close.

  Mom puts her arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go back to the office,” she says gently. “We’ll let them know it’s missing.”

  Missing! My sack is missing. Gone. Hiding. Lost. Maybe stolen. I think I might throw up.

  When we get back to the office, the secretary, Mrs. Starr, looks up from her computer. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks with a pleasant smile.

  “No, we didn’t,” Mom replies. “My daughter’s purse was left in the auditorium yesterday in all the confusion of the fire. But it is not there now. We searched everywhere. It’s just not there.”

  Mrs. Starr looks a little concerned but she says, “I’m sure it will turn up. Describe it for me so I can be on the lookout if it gets turned in to our lost-and-found box.”

  I think about the dirty gym shoes and torn hoodies and unwashed T-shirts that collect in that lost-and-found box. I can’t bear the thought of my sack being tossed in there.