The Last Boy and Girl in the World (17 page)

As Dad talked, I made us dinner, nothing fancy, just BLTs and macaroni salad. Then I went outside.

The sky looked like rainbow sherbet as the sun set, ribbons of oranges and red and yellows. The air was almost warm. I tied my sweatshirt around my waist, rolled my T-shirt sleeves up over my shoulders, and sloshed around our yard, picking up the sticks that had snapped off the trees and whipping them like boomerangs into the woods.

Mom pulled into the driveway and waved. By then, I'd finished that chore, and I was sitting on the porch steps, texting my friends.

I heard Dad hurry off the phone. Then the screen door slapped at he came out to greet her.

“I can't believe you're still standing,” Mom said. She let her bag down and rubbed her temples.

“I can't believe it either. How did things go with your patients? Everyone okay?”

She sighed. “They're scared. They don't want to leave. Not only that, but most of them don't have any obvious place to go.” She sat on the swing and her eyes wistfully wandered the front porch, as if she were trying to memorize it before someone snatched it away.

“Well, hopefully they won't have to figure that out.” Dad kissed Mom on the forehead, then me. “I'm off to Charlie's.”

“Are you sure you can't stay?”

Dad was already halfway down the stairs. “I need to get the word out that I'm onto something before anyone goes to speak with the adjusters. Apparently, they're supposed to arrive any day now.”

“Okay.”

I brought Mom's dinner out to her on the swing. I had another scoop of the macaroni salad in a mug so she wouldn't have to eat alone.

I watched Jesse's video and liked it, then showed it to my mom. She laughed hard at the part where he cut back and forth from a plastic shark to him and Julia standing in a big puddle, screaming in mock terror.

“Do you really think Dad has a shot?”

After a yawn, she said, “If he believes it, I think we have to, too. I think we owe him that chance.”

Mom rocked until her eyelids closed, her empty dinner plate balanced on her lap. I watched Jesse's video a couple more times, but on mute, so I wouldn't wake her.

Tuesday, May 17

A mix of sun and clouds, high of 62°F

Elise called me the next morning.

“Hey! How are you?” I said brightly. Probably too brightly. But I was so glad to hear her voice. Elise answered with a long and heavy sigh. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “That was a dumb question.”

“I can't believe you didn't call me, Keeley.”

“Morgan said you were going to call us! I figured you were busy!” Those two things were true, but I still felt bad about it.

“Fine, but you still could have reached out.”

I knew by her tone that she was annoyed, but not super-annoyed, probably because I wasn't the one she talked to about serious stuff. That was Morgan. I didn't blame her. Morgan was the person I turned to, too.

“Hey, let's do something fun tonight.”

“You and Morgan could come swimming at our hotel,” Elise offered.

“Awesome,” I said. “I'll let Morgan know.”

“I already texted her about it. I thought she might be with you, that's why I called.”

“Oh.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “No, she's not here. I think she's out with her mom.”

I was starting to feel bad all over again when I heard Elise switch the phone from one ear to the other. “Keeley, I need you to help me with something.”

“Sure,” I said. “Absolutely. Anything. You name it.”

“Help me convince Morgan to take us on a little . . . errand before we swim.” I heard her wet her lips. “I want to go see my house. Or what's left of it, anyway.”

I winced, remembering the newspaper picture Morgan had shown me. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“No. But I want to anyway.”

I was pretty sure it was a terrible idea, but I felt backed into a corner. I'd been a shitty friend to Elise, so there was really no talking her out of it. “Okay, Elise. You got it.”

•  •  •

I was sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, in a pair of cutoffs and a baggy navy sweater over last summer's bikini, blow-drying my hair. I thought I heard a knock, but I wasn't sure.

An endless stream of people had stopped by to chat with my dad. They reported in hushed voices that a team of government adjusters had arrived in rental cars and set up shop at City Hall. Or they asked Dad if he'd heard such-and-such rumor, or they shared memories with him of my grandfather, or they talked about their own family history in town.

Dad had only stopped home for a quick lunch, but he spent almost the whole afternoon on the front porch, counseling, being a shoulder to cry on, offering to help with home repairs or lend his tools. He gave out copies of the protest letter he'd sent to the mayor and the governor. He promised he would do whatever he could to stop this from happening.

And, unlike the reception he normally got at town meetings, people pledged to support Dad in whatever way they could. Who could blame them? The stakes were infinitely high this time. And the squabbles that had once branded my dad as a stubborn grouch now proved that he was their best, not to mention only, chance to save Aberdeen.

I liked listening to him from up in my room. It was incredible to see how he'd changed practically overnight, woken up as if he'd been in a coma. I'd forgotten how personable Dad could be. And kind, and sympathetic. It felt good to know change like that was possible. Mom was amped up, too. I saw her pride in Dad, and it made me realize what a funk we'd all been in for the last two years. Of course she was still worried about him. Still reminding him to take it easy, to rest, to ice his leg if it felt sore.

Everything in Aberdeen was turned upside down, except my house was weirdly right side up.

My mom came upstairs and cracked my door. I'd ordered her to take a nap an hour ago, but she insisted on putting in a load of laundry and washing the bathroom floor.

“There's someone downstairs asking for you.” Then she slouched against the wall and asked wryly, “Is this the boyfriend you and Morgan were talking about when we bought your dress?”

My heart leapt. I quickly shut off the hair dryer. “You mean Jesse?” After all, now he knew where I lived. I stood up and went to my window. There was a BMX bike parked neatly alongside our bushes. Jesse drove a black hatchback. But maybe his mom had taken that car to work?

“Oh. I thought Jesse was the boy in that
Jaws
video.” I nodded my head
yes
, and then she shook hers
no
. “Sorry, Kee. It's someone else. Looks like your Spring Formal dress made quite an impression.”

I came downstairs slowly. I honestly had no idea who it could be, but my first guess was one of Jesse's friends, like Zito, and maybe Jesse was hiding outside. Maybe he'd jump out and scare me and film me looking surprised for one of his videos.

Dad was in the living room, pounding his computer keys furiously. He didn't even notice me coming down. He had his left leg propped up and wrapped in an Ace bandage, a bag of frozen peas hanging over his shin.

I opened the front door cautiously.

Levi Hamrick was sitting on our front porch, staring out at the road. 

“Can I help you?” I asked. It came out equal parts surprised and annoyed.

He rose to his feet. He was in a hunter-green windbreaker and jeans, which he'd rolled up to his knees because of the floodwaters, and a pair of running sneakers. Curtly, he said, “We know your dad stole an officer's boat.”

My cheeks burned. I wondered if Dad could hear him, if he'd come out and say something. I hoped he would. He'd make Levi Hamrick pee his pants.

“If you knew, why didn't you stop him?”

He leaned back against the railing. “Fine. We didn't know at the time it was happening,” he conceded. “After the meeting, Officer Saft reported his boat missing. We put two and two together.”

“We tied his boat up to the—”

“I know, I know. Another officer found where you left it.” He knocked off the hood of his windbreaker and rubbed his sandy peach fuzz. It looked freshly cut and was the only part of him that was clean. Every other inch of him was flecked with mud.

And then there was quiet again.

I couldn't figure out what Levi was doing at my house, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to get me to tell him something incriminating. I straight-up asked, “So are we going to be arrested or something?”

Levi shook his head. “No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Umm, yeah. I'm fine.” I sarcastically gave him the okay sign with both my hands.

He frowned. “What your dad did was really dangerous, Keeley. You could have been hurt.”

Hearing Levi say that made me second-guess Elise's plan for tonight. We planned to park someplace inconspicuous after dark, then head through the woods with flashlights to get there.

Putting my hands on my hips, I said, “My dad was upset. A lot of people are upset, Levi.”

I was hoping he might get so annoyed with me that he'd leave, but instead, he leaned against the porch post.

I cleared my throat. “How did you even know where I lived? Did you look me up in some police database? I bet that's not legal either.”

“Keeley, I once gave you a ride home from Mock Congress practice.”

I didn't remember that. “Well . . . okay then.”

“Also, your street is the same as your last name, so . . . it doesn't take a genius,” he said, his voice slightly louder.

“I said
okay then
.” I leaned against a different porch post. Levi wasn't going anywhere. “I just don't get it. I mean, my family's been living here since the very beginning of Aberdeen. But now suddenly we have to go? How does that make any sense?”

“It's not so sudden,” he said darkly. Knowingly.

I realized that Levi probably knew more than any of us did because of who his father was. Maybe that could help my dad. I dialed back the bitchiness. “When did you find out?”

“Me? Not much before everyone else. I mean, there's definitely been talk for a while. Nothing official. Some environmental surveys and economic stuff. It really started to kick up when they began projecting that big storm.” He stared hard at me. “But it's not like they told my dad anything when the governor decided to evacuate. My dad wasn't lying to people, like your dad was telling everyone in the gym. He was following orders, and he was making sure people were safe.” Then Levi turned his head and lifted up slightly, trying to see into our living room window. “What's your dad up to in there anyway?”

“I have no idea.” I really didn't, not specifically, and even if I did, the last person I'd tell was Levi Hamrick.

“I've heard he's telling people in town that maybe they won't have to leave Aberdeen.”

I slid my hands into my back pockets. “That definitely sounds like him.”

“Leaving isn't going to be a choice, Keeley. The adjusters are going to begin meeting with people tomorrow. Governor Ward wants construction on the dam to start ASAP. It's a done deal.”

“Well, I guess there's nothing to worry about, then.”

Levi stood up straight as an arrow. “I didn't come here to pick a fight with you. I don't care what your dad might be cooking up. Like I said, I wanted to make sure you're okay. After you left the gym last night, and then when I found you crying in the hallway . . .”

It was obvious to me in that moment why Levi Hamrick was not a popular kid. On paper, you'd think he would be. He wasn't bad-looking, he was involved with plenty of school stuff, and he was
A Guy Going Places!
But he was also clueless. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think most boys inherently know not to continually bring up to a girl they found secretly crying in the hallway that she was secretly crying in the hallway.

“Okay, first off, I was barely crying at Spring Formal. I dropped, like, maybe five tears max. And secondly, can you please not mention that again? Like, to me or to anyone in the whole world, ever?”

He stood up. “Never mind.”

And that was it. That was his good-bye.

I watched Levi get on his bike. He rode a circle in our driveway, looking at me one last time before he stood up and pedaled hard like a sprinter until he disappeared down the street, splatters of mud curling up from his tires.

Tuesday, May 17

Clear skies in the evening, 55°F

Jesse posted another new video later that night. I watched it while riding shotgun in Morgan's car on our way to Elise's hotel.

It was of Julia in a one-piece bathing suit, red with little white stars. It looked too tight on her, like it was maybe even from two summers ago. She stood in a puddle with her hands dangling at her sides, her round belly pushed out, her blond curls tucked messily underneath a white rubber swimming cap. Off-screen, Jesse turned on some Beastie Boys, “Fight for Your Right to Party.” After nodding a few times to find the beat, Julia dove forward toward the ground and did the fish across their front lawn, each of her belly flops sending up plumes of water from the soaked lawn. She went the entire length of their sidewalk while Jesse ran around her, shooting from all angles.

I watched it again, paying no attention to Julia. I was focused on the glimpses of Jesse's house in the background. It was small, a little box, even smaller than ours. It might even have been a trailer. Anyway, there was a naked laundry line stretching between a pole and a sickly-looking pine tree. A big empty flower box hanging underneath the front window. A spiderweb crack in the glass of their rusty storm door. There was also a lot of junk strewn around the lawn and the driveway, Julia's toys mostly. But also a ten-speed without a front wheel, a soccer ball, and a basketball hoop that wasn't hung up. It sat half sunk in the mud.