Read Black Thursday for Free Online Page A

hitched with Anastasia’s nod.
    â€œTell me they didn’t fall anywhere near where the Frug—”
    â€œA bunch of people are already helping the injured over there.”
    I’d already turned and was racing toward Layaway where Frank had gone to find his parents. Where I’d last seen …
    â€œEloise?” I shouted as though my voice could be heard from Electronics and over the ominous din of people surrounding the scene. “Frank?”
    I reached the counter and the Frugarmy line, which was no longer a line but a bottleneck of stunned onlookers clustered at the end of a kitchen appliances aisle. There was no sign of anyone from the Michaels family, all of whom but Craig should have been somewhere near the back of the crowd given their spots at the front of the line when I left them.
    â€œEloise?” My throat constricted with panic as I fumbled for my phone, shot off a Where are you?? text to Frank, and worked my way around a dented Cuisinart box and an Oster four-slice model and into the cluster of people. “Joyce? Gerald?”
    I was two people deep in the crowd when I got a return text: OMG! Where are you?
    From Eloise.
    I allowed myself a momentary breath of relief knowing it was her and not someone trying to locate next of kin using her phone. I texted back: At layaway. Looking for you.
    We were coming to find you when it happened.
    Who is we?
    Everyone but Daddy and Uncle Craig.
    Before I could type the where in Where are they ? the man directly in front of me shifted to the left. On my tiptoes and looking around the frizzy auburn hair of the woman in front of him, I spotted assorted appliances, a slice of floor, and people tending to what appeared to be injured shoppers.
    â€œComing through!” I shouted, putting my hands together and using them as a wedge to push my way forward. “Mrs. Frugalicious coming through!”
    The cluster of people parted long enough for me to step into what looked like the aftermath of an F5 tornado. I found myself staring in disbelief at a swath of damaged assorted collateral merchandise and shell-shocked shoppers, some with cuts and bruises. The injuries seemed minor in general, until I saw the distinctive tomato red of Mr. Piggledy’s XXL holiday sweater through the legs of a group clustered together to the right of me.
    He knelt down beside a silver-haired woman lying on the ground, her full denim skirt splaying around her like a flower.
    â€œOh, no!” I kicked aside a blender from a display that had toppled as well and rushed over in what felt like slow motion. “Mrs. Piggledy!”
    â€œI’m okay,” Mrs. Piggledy said. “I just twisted my ankle.”
    â€œI’m afraid it’s broken,” Mr. Piggledy said.
    â€œIt can’t be,” she said. “Not with Higgledy’s commitment ceremony on Saturday.”
    â€œHe and Birdie are supposed to tie the knot,” Mr. Piggledy said by way of explanation about their pet monkey Higgledy and Birdie, the parrot from the mall pet store he’d fallen hard for. “Which is the last thing to worry about right now.”
    â€œHave to admit,” Mrs. Piggledy said through gritted teeth and looking at the foot, which was already blackish-purple and starting to swell. “It sure hurts.”
    â€œI can’t believe this is happening,” Mr. Piggledy said, cradling his wife’s foot. “One moment we were enjoying the spectacle of it all, and the next …”
    â€œAppliances,” Mrs. Piggledy mumbled. “Raining from the sky.”
    â€œIt all happened so fast.”
    â€œSo sorry, honey.” Mr. Piggledy dried the tear rolling down his cheek with his sleeve. “I just couldn’t get her out of harm’s way fast enough.”
    â€œOh my God,” I said. “This is awful.”
    â€œCould be worse,” Mrs. Piggledy said with more stoicism than I could possibly have mustered in her