Certainty by Eileen Sharp

lot of leaves, thankfully, so it didn’t take very long.
    “Let’s go see how the boys are doing,” Mom said, and put the bag of leaves out by the curb to be collected.
    Out back, the boys had made a sizeable pile. James whooped and jumped in it, throwing leaves everywhere for no reason whatsoever.
    Derek caught my eye and then we both jumped in the leaves.
    In two minutes we demolished the tidy pile the boys had made. The three of us stood up, leaves and dirt clinging to our faces and hands, our clothes damp and disheveled. I was pleased to note that Derek had received the worst of it—James and I tag-teamed him.
    “You are all gross,” my mom said, wrinkling her nose at us.
    Raking the leaves back up and shoving them into the bags while we were wet and itchy from twigs and leaves was not as fun as jumping on the leaves. When Dad finally declared the job finished, I raced up to the bathroom to claim the shower.
    The hot water felt good on my clammy, wet skin and I soaked in it, letting the steam fill up the bathroom. Getting into dry clothes was almost like heaven. I went to my room to dry my hair so one of the boys could have the shower.
    Washed, dried and my hair sleek and shiny I plopped down on the couch.
    “What time are we going to the mall?” I yelled at the direction of the kitchen.
    My mom poked her head out into the living room. “Right now, if you’re ready.”
    I sighed and got off the couch.
    The boys had their own plans for the afternoon. Derek was going to Jason’s house, just around the block. James and Dad planned to be couch potatoes, already sitting in front of the TV with their feet propped up on the coffee table and a bag of Cheetos between them.
    My mom and I arrived at the mall and went straight to the food court.  We munched and watched people walk by.
    Teenagers prowled around, the girls clinging together, talking loudly and the boys pretending not to see them. I didn’t envy them. I liked being with my mom.
    After lunch we started our search for The Perfect Dress.  We tried out a department store first. I loved the long gowns but it was semi-formal so I tore myself away from them and we looked at the shorter dresses.
    A dress with a black bodice and a white skirt caught my eye. There was a black satin ribbon at the waist and the skirt had layers of sheer white fabric.
    “Elegant!” my mom said, touching the satin ribbon. “I’m impressed, Kiddo.”
    I was pleased at the compliment. We found a few other dresses for comparison but the black and white dress remained my favorite. We found a dressing room and I began trying on the dresses we picked, saving the black and white one for last.
    I was just pulling the second dress over my head when my mom’s cell phone rang. I could tell by the familiar way she said “hello” it was Dad.
    Then her voice changed and I heard her say, “Is he going to be okay?”
    The tone of her voice told me something was terribly wrong.  She was calm, but it was a controlled calm, as if she were trying to speak carefully. I looked at myself in the mirror, the dress hanging off me awkwardly in waves of aqua satin. If I zipped it up it would be pretty, but I couldn’t move.
    “We’ll be there in ten minutes.  I’ll meet you in the emergency room,” she said, and her phone snapped shut.
    I heard her take a breath and say over my door, “Kenzie, Derek has been hurt. We have to go to the hospital now.   You need to hurry.”
    I moved quickly then, grabbing at my clothes and trying to put them on almost all at the same time, pulling up my jeans while I stuffed my feet into my sneakers.
    “What happened?” I asked.
    “He was riding his bike to Jason’s and was hit by a car,” she said.   “He’s been taken to the hospital with a head injury.”
    Her words sounded oddly detached, as if she were reading a script that had nothing to do with us. But all she had were ordinary words, and there weren’t any words horrible enough for this.
    Stepping