The Accused

Miguel’s feet dangled from his chair. He swung his little legs, back and forth, watching the man in the blue suit pace around the room.

Miguel didn’t like the man in the blue suit. The man was tall, with a loud booming voice, and every few minutes the man would point in Miguel’s direction piercing him with pale blue eyes.

There was a woman in black sitting at a large desk in front of the room. She frowned at the man in the blue suit and Miguel wondered if she didn’t like the man either.

Miguel looked next to him, to the man in the grey suit.

Miguel liked the man in the grey suit, except for the smell.

The man in the grey suit smelled like sweat and cigarettes and something else that Miguel didn’t recognize. Almost like a skunk but not quite. Not as bad.

Aside from the smell, the man in the grey suit was nice. He had held Miguel’s hand on the way to the room; had spoken in a soft voice, saying words that Miguel didn’t understand.

Miguel’s eyes drifted toward the window.

It was snowing outside.

White flakes coated the trees, the tops of the buildings-

“Parasites!”

Miguel jumped and stared at the man in the blue suit who was, once again, pointing in his direction.

Miguel looked at the man in the grey suit, hoping for some sort of hint as to what to do, but the man in the grey suit stared straight ahead.

Miguel looked at the group of people sitting near the man in the blue suit.

They looked at Miguel too. They whispered amongst each other, pointing his way, shaking their heads. Some people though, didn’t look at him. They looked down. One woman had tears streaming down her face, but she wasn’t making any noise.

Miguel stared at her in awe. When he cried, his whole body shook. When he cried, he wailed loudly. His mother hated it when he cried. She’d grab him by his shoulders and shake him, telling him to quiet down. But Miguel couldn’t. There was too much inside of him. Too much in his chest that he had to get out. And here was this woman whose tears dripped onto the table in front of her and yet she made no noise. It was truly amazing.

“A stain upon our democracy!”

Miguel jumped again. The man in the blue suit stared at him. Miguel watched the man’s mouth open and close. Spit flew from the man’s lips when he spoke, and Miguel wondered why the man was so angry. Why the man was so angry with Miguel.

Miguel had never met this man. At least he didn’t think he had.

Miguel stared at the man in the blue suit, wondering if maybe he had done something to upset him but didn’t remember.

Miguel thought about his school. His teachers. His friends. Miguel wondered if maybe he had said something, and someone had told the man in the blue suit and the man had gotten angry. Maybe. Maybe Miguel had said something bad and the man in the blue suit had heard about it.

Well. Miguel would just have to say he was sorry.

Miguel’s eyes again drifted to the window.

The window that was now almost completely white with snow.

Miguel itched to go outside so he could touch the white flakes. So, he could open his mouth to the sky and taste them. So, he could see what the world looked like when it was covered like this.

He had never seen snow, you see, and he so wanted to see it in person. Not just through a window.

Miguel noticed that everyone was staring at him.

The man in the blue suit. The woman in black sitting at the big desk in front of the room. The people near the man in the blue suit. Everyone had their eyes on Miguel. Miguel looked to the man in the grey suit who was saying something to him.

Miguel shook his head to show that he didn’t understand. The man in the grey suit frowned. The man in the grey suit stood up and said something to everyone. The man in the blue suit yelled something back. The two men begin to shout at one another. The man in the blue suit kept getting closer and closer to the man in the grey suit.

Miguel put his legs on his chair and hugged himself, watching the two men fight.

Was all of this just about him?

Miguel thought back to how he got here.

One minute he was playing outside with his friend Yesenia, and the next he was being dragged away by men in uniforms.

He had watched Yesenia stare at him as he screamed, as he told her to call his mother. The men in uniforms had thrown him into the back of a police car and Miguel watched Yesenia run toward their apartment building.

Miguel had cried and cried in the back of the car and the men had done nothing. Not even acknowledge his presence. They took him on a big, white airplane. Miguel had never been on an airplane. He closed his eyes when they had taken off, too afraid to watch as they floated off the ground. When they landed, they took him to a big, tall, building and walked him down a big, long hallway, and threw him into a small white room all by himself. Miguel had sat in the corner of the room wondering why he was there and what he had done wrong. Clearly something. Why would they have taken him if he hadn’t done anything wrong? And Miguel wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize so badly. If he only knew what it was he had said or done. He would say he was sorry. He would say he was sorry, so he could go home. All he wanted was to go home.

Well. First to see the snow.

Then to go home.

The woman in black pounded her hammer loudly, yelling at the man in the blue suit and the man in the grey suit.

The woman stood up. She turned toward the people sitting near the man in the blue suit.

She said something to them.

A man sitting in the group stood up and said something back.

The woman in black looked at Miguel.

Everyone looked at Miguel.

Miguel watched the woman in black frown and shake her head. She pounded her hammer once more and left the room.

The man in the blue suit smiled.

The man in the grey suit turned away from Miguel, his shoulders hunched.

Two men in uniforms that had been standing at one of the doors came up to Miguel. He shrank back from them but one of them handed him a piece of candy.

A somewhat melted Hershey’s bar.

Miguel took it, smiling up at the man.

The man tried to put handcuffs on Miguel, but they kept slipping off Miguel’s small wrists.

After a few attempts, the other man in uniform took out a piece of rope from his bag. He handed it to the other man who gently bound Miguel’s wrists together.

Miguel wanted to tell them that they didn’t need to do that. He was a good boy. He would do what he was told.

The men in uniform led Miguel out of the room by his shoulders.

The woman who had been silently shedding tears was now openly sobbing. Her body shook back and forth.

Miguel turned his head and saw the other people try to comfort her, but she wailed and wailed. She pointed at Miguel and shook her head and raised her arms toward the ceiling.

As Miguel walked with the men in uniforms back down the long hallway, he wondered why the woman was so upset. He wondered again why the man in the blue suit was so angry. He wondered why he was there at all. Where his mother was. If he would ever see her again.

As the last thought came to him, he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes. He could feel his chest start to feel heavy and he didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of these men.

But he could feel it coming.

What had he done?

Why couldn’t he just say he was sorry and go home?

Where was his mother?

What Had He Done?

As he was about to open his mouth to let it all out, the men led Miguel outside.

Miguel stopped.

His eyes widened as he took in the world around him.

Everything covered in soft, white, snow.

Everything quiet and still.

Everything looking like it belonged in a movie. Like it wasn’t quite real.

Miguel leaned his head back to taste the snowflakes and didn’t even flinch when he felt something cold and hard press against the back of his neck.

Who would have thought that snow tasted like blood?