The Way We Fall (6 page)

Six more people have died. The Public Health officers are barring visitors and all patients who aren’t in critical condition from the hospital unless they’re showing symptoms of the mystery virus. Dad says the building’s almost at capacity as it is. And one of the doctors has come down with the disease now.

Dad brought home a box of face masks yesterday. “If you absolutely have to go out,” he said, “make sure you’re wearing one of these. The transmission is almost definitely respiratory.”

“So you’re closer to figuring out how to deal with it?” I asked.

“Hard to say, with Public Health running everything now,” he said. “They take records without making copies and run tests without sharing the results. How they expect the rest of us to work…” He trailed off with a huff of breath, and added, “The World Health Organization is getting involved. I just hope they have more to contribute than adding to the confusion.”

I asked him about the contained area on the mainland that was supposed to be set up so people like Uncle Emmett and Meredith could leave, and he said it’s not in place yet. I wish they’d hurry up.

Mom’s still doing her shifts at the café, but she’s taking a mask with her to work. She says she’s seeing a lot more people than usual coming into the gas station to fill up their tanks. “Worried we’ll end up closing soon,” she said, but I wonder if they aren’t all loading onto the ferry and driving as far from the island as they can go. I got an e-mail from Mackenzie late last night, from L.A. They caught the first ferry yesterday morning and headed straight for the airport.

And this morning, right before Mom was supposed to leave for work, a white van with the logo for one of the Halifax TV stations came down our road. It parked on the other side of the street, and a couple of guys got out, one with a mic and the other with a video camera. “Media vultures,” Mom muttered as we watched from the living room window. “Looking for a story in other people’s pain.”

When they knocked on the door, we moved into the dining room and ignored them. Mom waited another fifteen minutes before she finally left. From what Dad’s said, both the town hall and the Public Health people would rather keep the epidemic out of the media, to hold off a total panic. So far I’ve only seen a few mentions on the news about a “health concern” on the island, with brief interviews with regular islanders who don’t know much about the situation. I don’t know if the American stations have picked up the story at all.

I wonder if your parents have told you anything, Leo. They wouldn’t want to worry you, your first month in a new city and a new school. You probably have no idea. Somehow that makes it feel like you’re even further away. But right now I’m just glad you
are
away from here, and safe.

I’ve been so cautious the last few days. It’s not fun hanging around the house all the time, but now that I know what a close call I had with Rachel, I figure I shouldn’t push my luck. Since I saw Mackenzie on Wednesday, I haven’t gone any farther than the backyard. What with school being closed and the only two people I could call friends out of reach, there hasn’t been much to go out for. Mom or Drew are around if I really need to talk to someone, and Uncle Emmett brought Meredith over for a little while yesterday.

But today I was by myself. Mom and Dad were working, and Drew snuck out in the morning to go who knows where. The house was empty. The feeling started to creep over me that it was going to stay that way. No one was coming back.

And then I thought about you way off in New York, Leo—probably not knowing there’s anything
to
worry about. I wasn’t even sure how your parents are doing. When we were kids I used to see them every other day.

Suddenly I was terrified they might have caught the virus, that they might already be in the hospital and neither of us had a clue. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get out of the house, but it worked. I put on one of the face masks and set off.

Outside, a couple of chickadees were chattering on the phone wires like it was any other day. I started to breathe a little easier. When I got to your street, I saw your mom in the front yard, trimming the hedge. I stopped by the corner and watched. After a few minutes, your dad came out with a glass of water, and they talked a bit. No scratching, no sneezing, no coughing. They’re okay.

I didn’t go over, because I didn’t know what I could say to them anyway. That can wait until after I’ve sorted things out with you. When they went back inside, I headed home.

On the way, some of my edginess came back. Hardly anyone was out, but it was warm enough that people had their windows open, and every now and then I heard a faint cough or sneeze. I started walking faster, and decided to cut across Main Street instead of going the long way around. I figured getting home faster was worth the extra chance I’d run into someone.

As I was passing the old theater, Tessa came around the corner farther down the street.

She was walking along as if nothing was wrong in the world. Hadn’t even bothered to wear a mask. I almost hurried on without stopping, but then I remembered hearing her say her parents were going on a trip the other week. I don’t know if they’re back yet. How lonely would that be? Maybe she didn’t realize how dangerous it is to go out.

What kind of person would I be if I walked on without saying something because one time she didn’t sit next to me?

So I jogged to catch up with her. “Hey, Tessa,” I said.

She paused and glanced around, and I had a flashback to that day in biology, when she breezed right by me. But she nodded and said, “Hi, Kaelyn.”

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Pretty much everyone’s staying home these days.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just picking up a couple things.”

She sounded so calm that I felt awkward, like I was hassling her, even though I was trying to help. My tongue started to trip over itself. “Because, um, it’s really not safe to go out unless you have to, you know,” I said. “You could run into someone who’s sick.” I realized I wasn’t setting the best example, so I touched my mask and added, “Even though I have one of these, I’m on my way home right now.”

“Oh, I won’t be out long,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, be careful.”

She gave that brief nod again, and then she walked off. A block farther down, she crossed the street and went into the garden supply store.

So, I tried. If your girlfriend wants to risk her life for fertilizer or a spade or whatever, that’s up to her.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Leo. When I get lonely stuck here at home, or freaked out about what’ll happen if they don’t find a cure for the virus, I make my mind wander back to before everything got screwed up. And since we were best friends for ten years, I guess it’s not surprising that you show up in a lot of my memories.

What I’ve been going back to the most is my ninth birthday party. Remember that?

A few months before, you’d asked me to practice the waltz with you because Ms. Wilce didn’t have any other students for you to work with, and you were worried she’d stop teaching you if you didn’t pick up the steps fast enough. The best I could do was clomp around in my sneakers, but you loved dancing so much that some of your enthusiasm couldn’t help rubbing off on me.

And then my party came, and Shauna showed up with her new puppy. Everyone was petting it and talking about it instead of doing the treasure hunt Mom had spent all morning setting up.

Even then, Shauna was one of those girls who just shine, whatever they do, and so people like them. Which was why I’d invited her.
I
didn’t shine. I was the weird girl whose mom and dad were different colors and who was just as likely to spend recess watching anthills as playing Red Rover. Mom’s family has been on the island as long as anyone, so most of the time the other kids included me if I wanted to join in, and if they didn’t, I didn’t care. But standing there seeing all of them huddled around Shauna, I felt like I might as well disappear.

Then you said, “Hey, let’s show them what we can do.” And you pointed to the computer, where you’d brought up our practice song.

I thought I’d trip over my feet and everyone would laugh, which would be even worse than being ignored. But you looked so sure that I took your hand.

I didn’t trip. I felt like I was floating, gliding over the floor. Everyone stopped and watched, and someone said, “Wow!” And I wasn’t nervous anymore. People were looking at me and wishing they could do what I was doing. For a few minutes I was shining, because of you.

If I could, I’d snatch that feeling out of the memory and keep it here in the present. I could use it right now.

I thought the worst was last night. After dinner, this sound came from outside. First I assumed it was a raccoon—they can really screech when they’re angry. But I started to hear words in there too.

Without thinking, I went straight to the front door. Mom says she called my name, but I didn’t hear her. I stepped onto the porch, and there was Mrs. Campbell, the old lady who lives three doors down, standing in her front yard ripping up clods of grass and throwing them at her house. She was wearing nothing but her nightgown. Her bare feet were already brown from the dirt where she’d torn up the lawn.

She was the one screeching. In between the wordless bits she was saying things like, “You won’t take me!” and “Get away, get away!”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. It feels like I stood there for hours watching her, but it was probably less than a minute before Dad came out and took my elbow and said, “Come inside, Kae.”

Mom was already calling for an ambulance, but the hospital must have been overwhelmed. She dialed five times before she got through, and Mrs. Campbell was out there screaming for a whole hour before they finally came.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I said to Dad, but I realized even as the words came out that I wasn’t being fair. It’s not like he’s got a supply of medications stashed in the house.

“I think we’d better just keep our distance,” he said.

“Right,” Drew said. “Of course there’s no way to actually help her.”

Then Mom started crying, because Mrs. Campbell had called her over to visit a couple days ago. “I thought she was just lonely and frightened, with everything she must have been hearing,” she said. “And you know she’s had that cough for so long. I had no idea she was sick. If I’d known…”

My stomach flip-flopped and I blurted out, “Were you wearing your mask?”

Mom blinked, as if she hadn’t considered her own safety. Her voice shook a little when she answered: “Yes. Yes, I was.”

“There isn’t much the hospital could have done for her even if you’d realized at the time,” Dad said, and Mom asked, really sharply, “Why not?” She apologized right away, but we were all on edge for the rest of the evening.

But that’s nothing compared to today. Even though it’s Sunday, Dad went in to the hospital again. About a half hour ago he called and asked to speak to Mom. I could have gotten her—she was only in the backyard mowing the lawn—but I could tell from his tone that what he had to say was important. And I’m tired of being the last to hear the news.

“She went out for a minute,” I said. “What is it?”

He sighed, and for a second I thought he wouldn’t tell me. Other voices were babbling in the background, but I couldn’t make out any of them. “Dad…” I started.

Then he said, quickly and quietly, “I don’t know the details yet, and everyone here is begging to use the phone, so this is all I can say right now. The government’s decided the area’s too high risk. They’re closing off the island.”