Free Saving Cicadas by Nicole Seitz

we cain’t even see it yet, don’t even hardly know it’s there. But it is there, right?”
    â€œIt sure is,” said Poppy.
    â€œIt the pretty one, see?” said Rainey, holding a cicada up to Mama’s eyes.
    â€œYes, it sure is,” said Mama. She watched Rainey snuggle the bug on her finger and pet its back. Mama sighed. “That is a pretty one.” There was a gravel walkway all around the lake and a nice gazebo. In the middle of the lake was an island where the ducks liked to go. A white man and woman and a little black boy walked right past us and headed around the trail. I could hear them crunching by on the ground. The grown-ups were holding the boy’s hand and swinging him in the air. He giggled and begged for more. I saw Mama watching that family, and I wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking, must be nice to have a man help with your child , or was she thinking, that little boy must not really be theirs, must be adopted , like I was thinking?
    Then I looked around at all the bugs and at Rainey and at Mama with the baby in her tummy, and all of a sudden, I started crying. It’s not something I normally did. I plopped down on the ground and cried for all those bugs just a-dying. I cried for how we never knew till this very minute they were even alive. And I cried for the baby growing in Mama who didn’t have a say-so in the matter of whether or not to rise up. I cried and I cried and I waded down in the water to help Rainey scoop out as many of the buggers as we possibly could. Somebody had to save them. Somebody just had to. Might as well be Rainey and me.

    Mama saw us crying and told us to follow her. It was time to go.
    â€œWe gonna take the bugs?” Rainey asked.
    â€œOh, honey, we can’t.”
    â€œPlease! Mama, please!”
    â€œOh . . . okay, but just one.”
    â€œNot enough!” Rainey hollered.
    â€œThat’s all we can do.” Mama was real stern, and we saw it in her eyes. Rainey and I each held a bug in our palms and followed Mama’s footsteps, trying hard not to step on any magic cicadas.
    â€œI’d like to take one last look in the gazebo, Grayson,” said Grandma Mona.
    â€œYou all go on,” said Poppy. “We’ll catch up.”
    â€œWhere we goin’ now?” Rainey whined, not so happy anymore, sloshing in her wet shoes. Mama was holding her free hand.
    â€œListen. I need you on your best behavior. Can you do that, please?”
    â€œYeah,” said Rainey, looking at her bug.
    â€œYeah, I guess,” I said, sniffling.
    â€œGood. Thank you.” I watched as my mother left us sitting on a park bench. She looked back once, then straightened her shoulders and headed for a white house. There were houses all around this lake, some directly looking over it, some farther up the hill. At this particular house, two chickens and a duck were waddling around the yard. Wild blue flowers reached up and brushed Mama’s shins as she walked up to the back door. She was still within listening distance if we acted up, I reckon.
    â€œI the ugly buggy, can you help me swim,” Rainey sang, kicking her feet and bopping her head from side to side. “Can you help me drive the car? Can you help me—”
    â€œHush, Rainey, not now.” Rainey loved to make up songs about silly stuff. Sometimes we did it in the car together. Drove Mama batty. Right now, I couldn’t sing. I was focused on Mama and what she was doing up at that house.
    Mama held her hand a couple inches away from the door. She knocked and looked behind at us.
    â€œWhat’s she doing?” I asked Rainey.
    â€œDon’t know. Look the buggy.” Rainey was cooing at her cicada and rubbing its back. Mine didn’t look too long for this world because it hardly moved at all. Or maybe it was already gone, I couldn’t tell.
    The door opened up some, and Mama talked with an old woman in curlers.