Read The Pieces We Keep for Free Online Page B

The handoff of a baton. A cue in a vaudeville act before the damsel was sawed in half.
    “Mrs. Hughes,” he said, “we’d like you to take a look at something.” He opened a red file folder, and more than its color reminded Audra of the lights on Jack’s shoes. “They’re from assignments in your son’s class. All of these are drawings he created just this week.”
    Audra cringed inside while accepting the stack, though the subject matter came of no surprise. The picture on top featured an airplane in gray marker, diving toward the ocean. Orange flames sprayed from the wings. Smoke curled from the tail. A star adorned the side, like his model planes at home. It was no doubt the looping scene that haunted her son every night.
    She flipped to the next sheet, and the next. Each depicted a similar crash, but with passengers in a plummet. A girl and a boy stick figure held hands in midair.
    The illustrations grew more frenetic. Thicker lines. Jagged faces. Fiercer flames. It was the product of an angry artist, emotionally unstable.
    She had to remind herself the artist was Jack, and with the thought came reason.
    Their plane ride had been a traumatic one. His nightmares reflected this. Each episode required more time and effort to soothe him. He claimed to not remember a single thing the following mornings. Subconsciously, though, he had to be affected. This, too, would explain his cowering under a desk and the instinct to fight for that haven.
    Audra confessed: “We experienced a bit of a problem with an airline trip last week.”
    “Yes, of course.” Dr. Shaw was clearly aware. “We both agreed that’s where a lot of this was coming from.”
    The media had withheld Jack’s name, being that he was a minor, but not Audra’s. Until now she had hoped the news had bypassed her local community.
    “I’ll definitely talk to him when he gets home,” Audra said in conclusion. Contrary to ten minutes ago, she was now anxious to check out of the building. But Dr. Shaw wasn’t finished.
    “I think you’ll want to take a look at the next picture first.”
    Audra felt her reaction being monitored, analyzed. She aimed for a neutral expression as she revealed the image.
    No plane this time—gratefully. Rather, a wild-eyed figure sat in a chair, a domed helmet on his head and bands on his wrists. A wiggly X covered his chest like a shield. A Viking warrior, or a king on a throne.
    “He did this one yesterday,” Dr. Shaw said, “for a cause-and-effect assignment. Other kids drew things like sunlight that turned a seed into a flower. Or a rainbow that appeared after a storm.”
    If a warrior won a battle, Audra supposed, the effect would be his ruling from a castle. It wasn’t a rainbow or a flower, but still harmless enough—unless you were seeking out an issue. “I really don’t see the problem,” she said with a touch of relief.
    Miss Lewis chimed in. “When asked about the man, Jack said the chair had killed him.”
    Audra more closely inspected the drawing. The wavy lines, common indications of movement, were jagged enough to suggest ... electricity. The man was being electrocuted.
    “My God,” Audra said. Where had Jack seen such a thing?
    “Naturally,” Miss Lewis added, “the teacher asked him questions, to get an idea of what prompted the idea. But the only thing she could get out of Jack was the reason behind the man’s death.”
    Audra swallowed, tightening her hold on the folder. “And? What did he say?”
    “That the man was a Nazi spy.”
    Then it became clear: The spidery design wasn’t a shield, but a swastika.
    Miss Lewis attempted an encouraging look. “When asked by his teacher, Jack did agree to draw ... happier things. Even so, we felt the need to bring this to your attention. Especially since one of the class volunteers is an elderly Jewish woman. You can imagine why she was pretty shaken up.”
    Dr. Shaw leaned closer, elbow on his wooden armrest. “Do you know if Jack is watching any