-1987-
RING! RING!
I was eating breakfast, enjoying the silence of my Shawn-free house. With a sigh, I picked up the phone.
"Henry Spencer."
"Hello, Mr Spencer, my name is George Ruggard. I'm a counciler at Camp Tikihama."
I bit back a groan. Only two days into summer camp. Two days! "What has Shawn done now?"
"We're not really sure what happened, but he went missing early this morning and we found him only 5 minutes ago. He was under the dock, hanging by his shirt."
I nearly dropped the phone. "Is he alright?"
"He was shivering badly and almost unresponsive. Normally, we'd wait for parental confirmation before calling for an ambulance, but the camp nurse told me that it couldn't wait."
I almost didn't hear the man tell me which hospital he'd been taken to. I hung up, grabbed my keys, and raced out the door.
QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ QQQQQQ
"Hypothermia!? At summer camp?" I fumed on the drive home from the hospital. "Only you could manage that, Shawn."
I'd kept my cool all afternoon and night, but now that the kid was okay, I didn't hold back.
"It wouldn't have happened if Stevie hadn't been chasing me," Shawn muttered, pressing himself up against the window of the truck.
"Shawn, you could have died last night. You've got to think before you do these things."
I stared through the windsheild, remembering my arrival at the hospital, seeing Shawn in that bed. His lips and face had been pale, but at least he'd been alert enough to talk before he went to sleep.
Shawn sighed. "What if I was being chased by a bad guy? If he had a gun and wanted to shoot me and the only way that I could hide was to hide under a dock?"
I sighed. "That's never gonna happen, Shawn."