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Nine-year-old Caleb Whitman was late for school again. His sneakers clattered against the sidewalk as he crossed the Riverside Plaza parking lot, hoping to save a few minutes. His teacher, Mr. Lawson, had warned him the day before that another late arrival would mean a phone call home, and Caleb was afraid of disappointing his parents again.
But halfway there, something made him stop. In a navy blue hatchback, parked in the sun, sat a small child, strapped into a car seat. The child's cheeks were purple, his mouth opening and closing in desperate cries that barely made it through the tightly closed window. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples.
Caleb pressed his face against the glass, rattling his knuckles. No adults appeared. He yanked on each door handle, one by one, but all the locks held tight. His pulse quickened, and the baby's cries faded to short, raspy sounds.
The square was eerily quiet. A few shopping carts rolled in the wind, but no shoppers were nearby. The school was only three blocks away, yet the thought of abandoning his child gripped Caleb's stomach. He understood enough to know that waiting could be fatal.
He spotted a loose piece of concrete at the edge of the sidewalk. His hands trembled as he lifted it, whispering, "I'm sorry," as if the car itself were apologizing. With all the force his small arms could muster, he hurled it at the side window. The first blow only shattered it, but the next two finally shattered the glass.
Carefully reaching inside, Caleb unfastened the sticky straps and lifted the baby out. The baby's body was limp and damp, clinging to his chest. Caleb rocked gently, murmuring, "It's okay. It's okay."
Just then, a terrified voice rang out behind him. “What are you doing to my car?”
Caleb whirled around. The woman rushed toward them, throwing two paper bags that shattered on the asphalt. For a moment, she stared in rage at the broken window and the boy clutching her child. Then it suddenly dawned on her. Her anger turned to terror as she pulled the child closer and showered his sweaty face with frantic kisses. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, "You saved him. I thought I'd only be gone for a few minutes. I can't believe what I did. Thank you, thank you."
Caleb didn't know what to say. The school bell rang in the distance, reminding him he was late again. He turned and ran the rest of the way, his hands bouncing off the window, his heart pounding with adrenaline.
As he burst into the classroom, Mr. Lawson's stern gaze met his. "Caleb Whitman," the teacher said in a sharp voice, "late again."
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