Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat. “Got any more you want up high?”
The question hung between us for a moment. Then, miracle of miracles, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Not a full smile, nothing that would crack her careful composure, but real nonetheless. “Maybe,” she said, and turned toward one of the ornament boxes, a clear invitation to follow.
I moved behind her at a respectful distance. Zelda led me to a box filled with glass balls and figurines, squatting down to sort through them with the seriousness of someone selecting weapons for battle. I crouched nearby, despite the protest from my knees.
“This one,” she decided, extracting a delicate glass icicle. “And this.” A small bird with iridescent feathers joined the icicle. “And --”
A sudden blast of “Jingle Bell Rock” cut through the room as someone turned the volume dial far higher than necessary. The abrupt wall of sound made me tense and whip my head around. But it wasn’t my reaction that mattered. Across the room, Kira froze mid-decoration, the ornament in her hand trembling visibly even from where I stood. Her eyes darted rapidly around the room, her breathing quickening as her small chest rose and fell in an accelerating rhythm. I recognized the signs immediately, the rigid posture, the unfocused gaze, the slight tremor in her hands weren’t just discomfort with noise, but the beginning of a full-blown panic attack.
My sister Julie had looked exactly the same way the first time I’d taken her to a mall after the attack. The crowd, the noise, the sensory overload had triggered something primal and terrifying. I’d learned then that removing her from the situation only reinforced the fear. What she’d needed was a safe space within the chaos, a controlled environment where she could regulate without feeling singled out or further traumatized by her own reaction. At least, that’s what the shrink had told me. All I knew was my actions with Julie had hurt her. So I’d try what the doc had suggested with Kira.
No one else seemed to notice Kira’s distress, caught up in the festivities. Both Penny and Violet were making cookies in the kitchen so they weren’t immediately available. But I saw her distress. I remembered, and I knew I didn’t have long before the girl either shut down completely or bolted.
“Zelda,” I said quietly, “does your sister get overwhelmed sometimes? With noise?”
Her head snapped up, eyes instantly suspicious, but then understanding dawned. She looked across the room at Kira and gave a short nod.
“I’m going to make a quiet spot,” I said. “Can you help me?”
Without waiting for an answer, I moved across the room, not directly toward Kira but to a stack of blankets. I selected two large fluffy ones, then made my way to a relatively unused corner where two overstuffed armchairs sat at right angles. I draped the blankets over the chairs, creating a small tent-like structure with an opening facing away from the main activity. The arrangement blocked most of the light and dampened the sound without making it obvious that was its purpose. Plus, what kid didn’t love a blanket fort? Zelda had followed me, watching curiously.
“Could you get those pillows?” I asked, nodding toward some throw pillows on a nearby sofa.
She gathered them without question, bringing them to me as I adjusted the blankets. I arranged them inside the makeshift fort, creating a comfortable nest in the sheltered space.
“One more thing,” I said, and moved to the light switch that controlled this section of the room. I dimmed it slightly, not enough to be obvious or disrupt the decorating, but enough to reduce the sensory input in this corner.
Then I made a small gesture toward the fort for Zelda’s eyes only. Zelda nodded several times before hurrying over to her sister and whispered something in her ear. After a moment’s hesitation, Kira slipped away from the main group and toward our created sanctuary, Mr. Hoppers clutched tightly to her chest. She paused at the entrance, her gaze finding mine with a question in them.
“It’s quiet in there,” I said simply. “Sometimes our brains need a break from all the noise and lights. Mine does all the time.”
A flash of relief lit her face and she ducked inside. I heard her small sigh as she settled into the pillows and covered up with another fluffy blanket I’d tossed in while Zelda had gone for her sister.
Zelda remained beside me, her expression unreadable. “You knew how to help her and not embarrass her,” she said finally. “How?”
I considered my words carefully. “My sister was hurt once. After that, sometimes the world got too loud for her. Too bright. Too much.” I kept my voice neutral, factual, though the memories still cut like glass. “I learned how to help her. Figured it couldn’t hurt to try with Kira.”