The fire alarm erupted only twelve minutes after my son’s eighth birthday celebration began

A piercing alarm echoed through the building. Bright white emergency lights flashed overhead. Music stopped without warning.  Parents grabbed their  children while employees rushed to unlock emergency exits. Nearly eighty people began filing outside into the cold November afternoon.

Kobe happened to be midair when the alarm sounded.

He landed off balance, struck the padded frame surrounding the trampoline, and collapsed onto the mat with both hands covering his ears. His paper crown slid away. Someone hurrying toward the exit accidentally stepped on it, leaving a dark shoe print across the blue glitter.

I reached him before the tears came.

“Mom, what happened?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“My knee hurts.”

“I’ve got you.”

The staff guided everyone into the parking lot while counting wristbands and speaking into radios. Children stood outside in colorful jump socks with jackets thrown over party clothes. The private party room still held Kobe’s cake and eighteen carefully prepared thank-you bags, each labeled in his neat handwriting and filled with glow sticks, gummy bears, and tiny foam airplanes.

None of the children had eaten cake.

None had received their party favors.

For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.