Cristina Velaro

Sipping the cold drink in my hand, and tightly gripping the mug, I carefully analyzed the paper on the board. It was deeply hidden, the papers around it taking the spotlight with bright colors and cute logos. This paper was so plain, yet it succeeded in catching my eye. 

“Looking for Library Volunteers! Come to Link Atheneum or Call 562-000-000”

Nothing special, no logo, picture, or cute aesthetic coloring. Nothing at all. Yet it seemed to catch my eye. I took my phone out, and quickly took a picture. I’ll call later. I resumed drinking my beverage, taking in the sweet scenery from outside the restaurant. Plugging my headphones in, I listened to soft music, preparing for finals, and quietly wondering what a library volunteer might do.

—

I had called when I returned home, locking myself in the bathroom and hoping no one heard. Mom would make a big fuss about it, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted this volunteer job yet. So no reason for others to know. No one answered, unfortunately, and I was a bit disappointed. I decided to go in after my 7:00 morning class. 

—

I was wet and didn’t have an umbrella. I had to run here for shelter, but I was still soaking. I stayed still a few minutes to let myself dry, then walked to the secretary. 

“I saw a flyer saying they need volunteers here. Is there a position left for me?”

The woman was a very nice person it seemed. She indicated a room at the end of the hallway. 

“Go there, they would know all about all the volunteer stuff.”

I thanked her and kept walking.

“Sorry but we do need help in the elder's area”, said a young woman. 

She was lifting boxes and didn’t seem to need help. Also, do they have an elder area?

“We do have an elder area, it’s upstairs on the left wing. The local Elderly Care Home brings a group of elders every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday”, she stopped to take a breath, “ We need a reader for them. They come in and someone reads to them. No experience is necessary, just reading out loud. Can you do that?”

I stood there thinking. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Sundays. Not a big deal. 

“What time?” 

Her face lit up immediately.

—

I was handed a picture book. 

The Story of the Crow and the Frog

I started reading. 

“Such a nice voice you have!” giggled one older lady.

I smiled, nodded, and attempted to continue reading. 

“You look no older than my granddaughter! How old are you, dear?” asked an older man in the back of the small room. 

I had been warned…actually, just told that something like this might happen. Remain calm, deep breaths, and just politely ignore them. What weird instructions. I continued reading. They were calm through the rest of the reading. 

—

I have been doing this for at least a month now. Surely these volunteer hours would look great on my resume. I have long told my Mother of my ‘ side job ’ and she leaped with joy. 

“Ay Mija, le pido a Dios que siempre te ayude y te acompañe”, she would say.

I responded, “No te preocupes Ama”

Then we would hug.

—

Signing my name on the white paper seemed relaxing. It always did. Yet today, I felt a little small lump form in my stomach. I heard some noise coming from outside, and saw five crows cawing. I ignored them and went to my room.

—

“But Bear Wants Mor-!” I was interrupted. But not from the elders. They had long ago known to keep quiet when I was reading. 

The lights in my room began to flicker. 

I saw panic in their eyes, and I was alone beside them. 

“Don’t worry”, I hushed, “ Perhaps someone is fixing the lights.”

They nodded silently, and the lights kept shining. 

—

The whole library was quiet. I pulled the curtains and the elders kept quiet. I forgot I wasn’t alone for a moment, and terror came and swallowed me whole. 

Thump.

Breathe In. 

Thump.

Breath Out. 

Thump.

Breath In-

—

They were like dolls. Not moving an inch. The elders eyed me carefully. They would break. In seconds those dolls would break from their hardened shock, yell, cry, and shout.

It happened so fast. 

—

I received a notification on my phone. Mi Ama. 

It read: [ Mija! Contestame mi amor! Por favor, sal de alli! Mi vida, salte, corre! ]

My mother had seen the news. This was on the news. This meant it was big. A big no-no. A huge no-no. My life was at risk. I typed something back, but before sending it, I stopped. Then I saw. I glint of shine in the pocket of one elder. 

I crept closer and touched their hand. Ice cold. Dead. I could see where he had been shot, his white collared vest stained with blood. I reached deeper into his pockets. A weapon. A knife!

I shoved the thought of why he had it away from my mind. He had it. Now it’s mine. I thank God, and I pray.

Silently, I crouch near the door. Wait, listen carefully Cristina. Listen closely. I hear the faint sound of footsteps coming toward me. 

—

A hero. That’s what they’ll say. A hero.

Blood is on my face. I play dead. Perhaps until I am dead. 

I’m thirsty. I crave food. I crave shelter. I crave Ama. Mi linda mama.

“Mami, te necesito..”

—

“ Here I am standing in front of the Link Atheneum, where the shooting is currently taking place. Police find no new reports on where the shooter is hiding. “

{ Zoom in behind the reporter }

{ Camera can now view firemen taking bodies out of the local library }

{ Camera moving to view the faces of victims }

{ Zoom out and view the reporter clearly }

“ Hold on, a new report has now been shown. A young woman has been seen inside, knife in hand. Most likely defending herself. No sign of life. Yet. 

The shooter seems to be found and identified. Carl Thompson. Convicted of murder and was on trial about five years ago. No sign of life. 

The girl has been identified. Holder of a hero’s name surely. Cristina Velaro. Twenty-five years old. The firemen have found a pulse! ”

{ Zoom out of the reporter }

{ Camera showing a fireman with a young woman }

{ Identified as The Hero }

—

Cristina Velaro.