The Last Boy and Girl in the World (12 page)

Who, I wondered. Jesse? Could Jesse have lost his home? Or worse? I had no idea where he lived.

I took a step forward and the floorboards creaked. Everyone looked up at me.

“Keeley, sweetie, get dressed,” Mom said, pressing a hand to Dad's back.

My mother had a way with my dad. She let him bluster, she never tried to shut him up. But when she wanted something, when she needed to take control, she did. I knew my parents' marriage wasn't perfect. Far from it. Especially after Dad's accident. But we'd slipped into a comfortable routine that pretty much worked.

“Fine. We'll pack up the car and drive down there within the hour.”

“Roads are flooded. I can't have the accessible streets blocked up with abandoned cars. We've got a transpo spot down on Main. I'll drive you all over there and then another officer will bring you over to the school in one of the rescue boats. Do you think you'll be physically able to climb in a boat? Or should I make sure we've got enough hands down there to lift you?”

My dad stiffened.

It was honestly the worst thing Sheriff Hamrick could have said. And I wonder now if he didn't do it on purpose, because of the hard time my dad was giving him and all the other hard times he'd given him at town meetings.

“How long will we be there?” my father asked.

“Until we get the official order that it's safe to return. The river will crest in the morning. If everything stays status quo, and we get the A-OK from the governor's office, we could start sending some folks back by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Mom asked, “What should we bring with us?”

“Some clothes, enough for a day or two should suffice. Toiletries. We have plenty of food there, Jill. And bedding.”

She nodded. “Do you want to wait inside?”

Before he could answer her, Dad closed the door on him.

I heard my parents talking in hushed tones while I raced around my room, putting things in my book bag. If our whole town was headed to the gym, that meant everyone I knew from school would be there. I wish I hadn't put my hair up right after showering at Morgan's, because now it was dented, and so it would have to stay in a bun. I changed out of my pajamas and into a pair of leggings, a tank top, and a more fitted hoodie.

I feel terrible about this now, but even knowing that bad things had happened to some people in town, there was a part of me that felt excited. Mainly because I would have another chance to see Jesse and, hopefully, undo whatever damage I'd done at Spring Formal, if it wasn't too late.

Monday, May 16

Drenching rains to continue throughout the early morning hours, high of 45°F

A few sorry-looking crepe paper streamers from Spring Formal were still hanging when my family walked through the gym doors around 1 a.m. You could see where the others had been quickly ripped down because of the white bits still taped to the walls.

Aberdeen was a small town, with only about 500 families, but it didn't look the part with every one of them crammed into the same place. The heat was cranked and the air was muggy. It was loud, too, dogs in cages barking at cats in cages, kids playing tag and screaming with the kind of frazzled crazy from being up way past their bedtimes. The adults were clustered in little groups, wringing their hands or patting each other on the back.

Rows and rows of cots were set up in straight lines like a big army barrack, each one half the size of a twin bed and tightly made with a white pancake of a pillow and a moss-green blanket. Most had already been claimed, either by a body or with bags of crap.

My book bag suddenly felt way too light. What if we were here more than one night? It seemed like most people were prepared for that possibility. I'd stupidly packed only one change of clothes. The rest of the space I'd filled with fun stuff like a little set of speakers that hooked up to my phone to play music and a couple of different bottles of nail polish, so Elise and Morgan and I could give each other manicures if we got bored.

There was one random thing that I did not regret bringing. A pad of Mad Libs that had been in my Christmas stocking when I was a kid. I'd filled out some of the pages, but plenty were still blank.

I pulled it out from the front pocket and scanned the room for Jesse.

Jesse had a little sister named Julia. I knew that because she sometimes starred in his videos. She was either seven or maybe eight, and she was just as hilarious as Jesse. Her hair had all the same shades of blond as his, but her curls were tighter, like tiny springs. One time, he made a video of her sneaking into the bathroom when he was in the shower to flush the toilet so he'd get hit with a blast of hot water. Apparently, she did it all the time, so he was ready for her. He actually brought his phone into the shower and filmed her from a small gap between the curtain and the wall. Even though Jesse had seen her coming, after she hit the flush, he screamed like he was surprised and Julia ran out of the bathroom cackling. She had an unexpectedly deep laugh for a little girl, throaty and raw. I liked her immediately. He was hoping it would go viral, he said so in his own comments. “Let's make Julia go viral!” The video did get a lot of hits, but not that many. I bet almost half were from me.

I figured the Mad Libs would be a good thing to give her, to keep her entertained or calm in case she might be scared. And, more than anything, it would be a way back into talking to Jesse. Even though I hadn't heard from him, I didn't want to believe that hope was lost.

I didn't see him, or any of my friends, either. There was no way they'd be sleeping, since we obviously weren't going to have school tomorrow. Morgan and Elise had probably found a classroom to hang out in. Maybe Jesse had too.

Mom unzipped her navy raincoat and pulled back the hood. She'd carried her briefcase with her nursing files and her laptop inside the raincoat to make sure it stayed dry. Her jeans were rolled up to her calves and her nightshirt was tucked into the waistband like it was an actual
shirt
shirt. On her feet were the muck boots that she only wore when she was working in the yard. While she walked, she looked up at the banners in the rafters, searching for the year she and my dad had graduated, I guess.

I put the Mad Libs away and then tried again to take the rolling suitcase she was pulling along, but she smiled and said, “I've got it, Keeley.” It was full of nursing supplies that she'd gathered before we left. Her stethoscope, some rolls of gauze, alcohol pads, things like that. Sheriff Hamrick had told her it wasn't necessary, that a first-aid station had already been set up, but Mom insisted. “Several of my patients live in Aberdeen,” she'd explained. When she had trouble fitting everything she wanted to bring, she left behind her toiletry bag and just packed a toothbrush so there'd be enough room.

Dad lagged a few steps behind us, in a flannel and jeans, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other gripping the head of his cane. He had his laptop wrapped in a plastic bag from Viola's Market and tucked under one arm. Before we got in the boat, Mom knelt down to roll up Dad's pants for him. He waved her off, I'm sure because he was embarrassed for her to do that in front of the police officers. My mom pretty much waited on Dad in our house, but he didn't seem to want to let other people see it. Even if that meant spending the night in jeans that were soaking wet up to his knees.

A volunteer approached us looking apologetic. “If you can't find three empty beds together, don't worry. They're in the process of setting up overflow cots inside the classrooms.” He pointed down a hall, where I saw Levi Hamrick lifting folded cots off a stack and opening them up for another volunteer who was ready to carry them away.

Mom nodded and then switched her laptop bag from one shoulder to the other. “I guess we should find a spot,” she said. “Preferably near an outlet, so I can get some work done. I doubt I'll be sleeping much tonight.”

Dad pointed at a stack of cots being unfolded by another volunteer near the sports equipment closet. “You two head that way, I'll get us some coffees.” And then, loudly, to no one in particular, he announced, “I hope someone's planning to give us regular updates. You can't keep us locked up and not tell us what's going on out there.”

I know why he said it. On the ride over to the gym, things hadn't looked that bad in town. Granted, we hadn't been anywhere close to the river and there was clearly a lot of flooding. But when we were in the boat, there'd been a couple of places where there was barely enough water to be floating. Every time the boat scraped against the ground, Dad would huff and puff, all pissed off. It was the same way he spoke at town meetings—a righteous know-it-all. People tolerated him for two reasons, because he was a Hewitt, and because my mother was beloved.

A few people nearby turned to see what the volunteer might say to Dad's request. But one freshman girl I recognized from school lifted her head off her cot and begged my dad with her eyes to be quiet. She was spooning her younger sister, running her hands through the little girl's hair, trying to soothe her to sleep. I met her gaze as we walked past and made an apologetic face. That's when the reality of the situation hit me. Not that we were in danger, but that everyone I knew would be in the same room as my father tonight.

There were times when I was deeply embarrassed by my dad, in a way that went far beyond anything my friends experienced with their fathers. Maybe their dads would sing too loud at church, or beep the horn too many times when they'd pick them up from school. But since his accident, Dad was well known in Aberdeen. Another word would be
infamous
. Thankfully, it was mostly adults in town who were familiar with his antics. Not anyone my age.

The monthly Aberdeen town meetings were well attended and also broadcast live on the local cable channel. At first, during his recuperation, Dad would watch from the bedroom television. I'm not sure if he ever watched a meeting before his accident, but after, he wouldn't miss one. And when he was well enough, he started to attend them in person. Without fail, there'd be an issue where he'd take the stance of opposition, of defiance. Raising the price of parking on Main Street, the budget for pothole repair, a variance on the building code. Sometimes he'd prepare an actual speech beforehand, and because of the rules in place for public discourse, the mayor and his cabinet would have to listen to him drone on and on and on. But Mom and I mostly encouraged it, because that became the only time he'd leave our house.

I felt my mom come up behind me. As if she could sense my anxiety, she gave my shoulder a little squeeze.

It was weird to see people shuffling around in their pajamas and slippers in public. I mostly kept my eyes on the floor. I did not want to see any of our teachers half dressed, or worse, Principal Bundy. My mom was greeted warmly by a few people. It was like she was the exact opposite of my father. We couldn't go anywhere in Aberdeen without some old person falling over themselves to say what a wonderful, caring nurse my mom had been to them.

“Jill!”

Mrs. Dorsey ran over. She hugged my mom so hard, she practically tackled her. “I've been calling you nonstop!”

“Sorry. My phone must be buried at the bottom of my bag.”

Mrs. Dorsey let out a deep breath of relief. “I figured you guys were safe . . . but you never know.”

“And your house is okay?”

She nodded. “So far. The basement is flooded, but that's about it.” They hugged again. This time, more tenderly. And then she took my mom by the hand. “Come on. I saved three cots next to ours. We're by the bleachers.”

“Where's Morgan?”

“She went looking for Elise.”

Dad came shuffling back over with two coffees and a huge handful of baked goods. Like, enough for five people. My mom and Mrs. Dorsey noticed that too and gave Dad a look.

Dad ignored us all, or else he wasn't paying attention. “Did either of you notice those Army Corps of Engineers vans outside?”

“I must have missed them,” Mrs. Dorsey said.

“Jim, Annie saved us cots next to hers.”

Instead of saying “thank you,” my dad was looking around the gym. “Something funny's going on.”

Ignoring him, Mrs. Dorsey spotted my mom's briefcase and said, “Jill, don't even tell me you're planning to do paperwork. Can't you take tonight, of all nights, off ?”

“I won't be able to sleep,” Mom said sheepishly. “Better I stay productive than lie awake counting sheep, right?”

Meanwhile, Dad surveyed the room skeptically. “I'd love to corner one of those engineers. I bet I could get some information out of them. Unless they've been told not to talk to us . . .”

I had to get away. “I'm going to go look for Morgan.”

I walked the halls, peering into classrooms, clutching my dead cell phone. I kept passing other kids from our high school, running down the halls or sitting in the stairwells. It felt bizarre to be here so late. It didn't even feel like a school. Maybe because the normal rules of daytime didn't apply. There'd be no bells, no attendance, you could walk in and out of any classroom you wanted.

I eventually found a bunch of girls from my grade—Emma, Sarah, Frances, June, Lisa, and Morgan—inside an English classroom. They'd pushed the desks into a circle and each girl was sitting on top of one, swinging her legs. Some were in normal clothes, some had changed into their pajamas.

I pushed open the door and did a little rain dance by hopping on one foot and patting my open mouth. What was happening was definitely scary, but at the very least, we wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow. I wanted to remind them of that, the good stuff.

Everyone looked up, startled. Morgan hopped down and came rushing over. In a whisper, she said, “Where've you been? I've been calling you!”

I held up my dead phone. “What's going on?”