A wintery wind bled through the open air halls of the school, and while it was cold and strong, it was never enough to overwhelm the ever-present sounds of lunchtime.  Groups of kids were scattered everywhere along the halls, huddled together against the wind as much for warmth as to hear their friends over the gusting wind.

I sat with my group as I had come to call them, just short of a dozen kids, boys and girls both, my mind drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, aware of what was happening around me but paying it no mind.  Occasionally one of the kids would ask me a question, tell me a joke, relate a story.  I would then respond in kind; despite our obvious age differences, I found I rather liked these kids, and I had come to spend my lunches with them, participating in idle chatter whenever I was engaged, relating stories and jokes of my own that invariably drew a few gasps or peals of laughter.

Across from me sat, cross-legged, my reason for being here.  A young boy with a number of problems who I was assigned to work with.  He had made leaps and bounds of progress over the school year, and I often told him how proud of him I was.  To my immediate right was a slender girl with light auburn hair and bright chocolate brown eyes.  She was one of his two reasons for wanting to sit with this particular group of kids (the other being the presence of his best friends).  It had been just over a month now that I had been sitting with these kids, and in that rather short span of time they had begun to treat me like one of them.  I was something different than what they normally expected at school; an adult, but not a teacher.  Someone who they deferred too out of habit, but never enforced any kind of deferrence.  I had always insisted they call me by my first name, which had startled many of them at first, but such surprise was short-lived.  By the end of that week I had a dozen different nicknames based on my first name.  So it was that every lunch when I came to sit down with this particular little group that I was welcomed with open arms and smiles.

I floated back out of my revery at the sound of one of my many nicknames.  Looking up I saw my kid looking at me with that mischievious glint in his eyes that said he was about to tell me a joke that would most likely make me laugh out loud at the same time it made me cringe that a kid his age knew of such a thing.  Looking over to the girl with the chocolate brown eyes we shared a brief eye-roll together, followed by a grin and a chuckle (well, she giggled) and she took a big bite out of her sandwich before sitting back to enjoy the show.

My kid launched into the joke with a great deal of artistry, all things considered.  You would have never thought that just four short months ago he had been afraid to speak louder than a whisper.  I settled back against the cold wall, a slow smile creeping across my face as he span the setup for the joke.  A small hand creeped onto my right arm with a familiar tentativeness.  Not looking away I patted the hand gently as if to say "One moment and I'll be with you hun".

But as my hand touched hers, something.....shifted.

Tentativeness and something....other.  A hard edge of fear, almost panic.  This brought me fully from my revery and I sat up.  Something on my face changed and my kid ceased his joke-telling, his expression of mischievious mirth replaced with one of shock and surprise and....fear.  The hand on my arm tightened with an unexpected strength, seemingly born of desperation.

A feeling of dread filled me at that moment as my hand clasped hers gently.  I turned to face her, my breath caught in my throat.

She seemed to have latched onto me as much for support as anything else.  Her other hand was wrapped around her throat, her chocolate brown eyes wide and misty and terrified and looking right at me.  The wind howled again, gusting stray leaves and debris past us, but I didn't hear so much as feel it.

Standing with a quickness that surprised even myself, I pulled her firmly from her cross-legged position.  She had all the signs as near as I could see; no audible coughing, no intake of breath, a slight tinge of blue beginning to form around her lips.  Her chocolate brown eyes still shone up at me, duller than before, full of a tired terror.  My mind flashed to a timeless moment less than a month old.

"You ok?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, coughing and giggling at the same time, "I do that all the time."
"Well, where I come from we like to actually chew our food before we swallow it." I joked with her.
She stuck her tongue out at me and giggled.

I span her around, wrapped my arms around her, placed my hands just so.  The wind died down just as I pulled her into me, convulsing her body back and up in a violent wave-like motion.  She grunted in pain.  Nothing came up.  Again I thrusted my hands into her ribcage, pulled her tight against me and again nothing came out.  Her body went a little limper in my arms.  The rest of the group had noticed this by now; they stared on with equal parts horror and assurance in their eyes.  Surely if anyone could fix it it was me?  I thrusted again.

A small gurgle escaped her throat, followed by a small wheeze.  So....it was loose.  Once more I drove my hands into her into me and she convulsed again, this one longer and somehow...deeper.  A chunk of sandwich shot out from her mouth as she went limp.

I eased her down to the ground where she rested briefly on all fours, gasping for breath, before collapsing in exhaustion, tears rolling freely down her eyes as she sobbed between gulps of air.  I sat back against the wall and closed my eyes, fighting back my own tears.  Another place, another time, another face flashed before me.  Different hair, a different girl, but those same chocolate brown eyes, only this time I was younger, and this time no one was around to help.  I stared in helpless horror as I watched the light in them die.

A sudden impact brought me back as a small body pressed itself into me.  I wrapped my arms around her, warming her in my jacket against the wind, soothing her fear.  Some interminable amount of time later, she looked up, her chocolate brown eyes brighter and more vivid...and more familiar...than I had ever seen them.

"You scared me there," I said, my voice carefully level.
"I'm sorry," she responded in a small voice.
"See," I said, with a forced lightness, "I told you that whole chewing thing would help you with this choking thing!"  She giggled, then hiccuped, then snorted loudly.  I smiled and looked at her seriously.  "Are you ok?"
"I....think so.  My chest is kinda sore but I can breathe ok."
"Do you want to see the nurse?" I asked.  She nodded.
"But only if you carry me!"
I sighed and rolled my eyes in mock exasperation, then scooped her up in my arms.  She wasn't a heavy girl, but despite the extra eighty pounds I somehow  felt lighter, almost like she was a part of me and not something foreign.  I looked down into those chocolate brown eyes and smiled, and she smiled back up at me.  I had found what I lost, and I wasn't going to lose it again.