The Last Boy and Girl in the World (23 page)

I felt completely helpless.

“Here, Julia! Check this out!” He set her down, and she was still crying pretty hard. I came up behind her and patted her back. Jesse shuffled backward to the monkey bars and quickly climbed up them so he was standing across the top. And though the monkey bars had seemed small before, they suddenly looked as tall as a house. “Want to see me do something crazy?”

“Jesse . . . ,” I said nervously.

Julia didn't answer him, but she did stop screaming. Her chest shook with post-hysterical sobs.

He took off his hooded sweatshirt and tossed it aside. “Count to three for me, Julia, and I'll do a flip for you.” He shifted his eyes onto me. “I've been practicing this on Zito's trampoline. I nail it about thirty percent of the time.”

“Great,” I said nervously.

“Come on, Julia. Count for me!”

Julia wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “One, two, three.”

“Now in Spanish,” he said.

That made Julia laugh. And me too.
“Uno, dos, tres!”
she said.

Jesse shouted something crazy, like a Tarzan noise, and leapt off the top of the monkey bars. He flung his head forward, tucking and rolling. He ended up spinning too much though, two rotations instead of just one, and it was clear he wasn't going to land on his feet.

I couldn't breathe.

He smacked the ground flat on his back with a thud. Julia and I both rushed over. I was afraid he'd be paralyzed or had maybe cracked open the back of his head. Julia was laughing like he was a stunt professional or a clown. Like there was no way he'd be hurt.

But when Jesse got up, I saw that he was. Maybe not hurt bad, but I think he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him at least.

“Pretty funny, huh?” he said to her, rolling onto his knees. He looked up at me and winked.

“You're bleeding,” I whispered when I noticed the huge scrape on his forearm.

But by that point, Julia had taken off running again, shrieking with laughter.

“I'm fine,” he said. I didn't completely believe him, but he pulled me close and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Come on. I'll push you both on the swings.”

We played like that until the sun went down. Jesse
had
brought me a juice box—fruit punch—and he pushed the straw in for me. He kissed me whenever we were sure Julia wasn't looking, our mouths sugary and warm.

I went home exhausted in that terrific mind-clearing way that only seems to happen when you're a little kid.

Thursday, May 19

A mix of sun and clouds in the morning, 64°F

Our school reopened three days after the flood. I couldn't wait to go back.

I'm sure that sounds nuts, but it wasn't like those days off felt like an early start to summer. They were missing the freedom that summer would bring, the chance to spend your days how you wanted. There were too many chores to do. Too many places in Aberdeen that were still off-limits. Plus I just missed it, the routine of the bells ringing every forty-five minutes. I missed gossiping, I missed the assignments, I missed my SAT prep class.

Of course, I was also excited to be back in regular physical proximity to Jesse. Maybe we'd hold hands in the hallway, meet at my locker during breaks, have lunch dates.

In the morning, Jesse texted me a picture of him sitting on a huge bulldozer. From the way it was shot, kind of low to the ground, I had to think Julia was the one who took it. I smiled, until I noticed there were a line of bulldozers parked behind the one he was on.

You want a ride? I'll pick you up.

Not if that's what you're driving!

Come on! If we showed up to school on one of these together, it'd be so epic!!!

It would also be grand theft.

Okay, okay. Fine. I'll take the hatchback instead. How's quarter after seven?

It might seem like such a small thing, to have a boy offer to pick you up and take you to school. For me, it was as epic as a bulldozer ride. We were really doing this, being together for as long as we could. Of course, I hated that caveat, but I tried not to focus on it.

Can't. Dad's taking me. He wants to go to the meeting.

In the e-mail from Principal Bundy's office about returning to school, they told all students to report straight to the auditorium for an assembly instead of going to homeroom like normal. Parents were encouraged to attend.

“What do you think it could be?” Mom said. “I'm worried.”

Dad frowned. “I'm not sure. But it can't be good.”

“I'm trying to switch my patient schedule around,” Mom said as she filled our sink with soapy water to do the breakfast dishes. “But I'm still waiting to hear back from one of the other nurses on my team.”

“Don't worry.” Dad lifted his coffee to his lips. “I said I can take her.”

“No, no, it's fine. I'll just call my supervisor and—”

Dad picked up the newspaper. “You keep telling me to take a break, so now I'm taking a break.”

Mom sighed like she was annoyed, but when she spun around from the sink, she had a smile on her face. “Okay, okay. Point taken.”

Because it was my first day of school with a boyfriend, or whatever Jesse Ford and I were now, I decided to wear something nice. I'd borrowed an outfit from Morgan a few weeks ago, to wear to the party that Wes decided he didn't want me at. It was a light blue oxford shirtdress, almost too short for school, but very cute. It was still too cold for sandals, so I wore my red Keds and paired it with my jean jacket.

As I came downstairs, I sniffed the air. “Is that cologne?”

Turns out I wasn't the only one dressed up. Dad had put on slacks and a flannel. His hair was combed, not hiding under a ball cap, his face was shaved, and his fingernails were scrubbed clean.

He drove us over in his truck.

I hadn't seen the school parking lot since the night we escaped from the gym. The water had gone down quite a bit, but after yesterday's rain, it had risen back up again. Dad and I had heard on the radio that it was supposed to rain again later tonight. In fact, rain was in the forecast for the next few days. Would there be another flood? That's what I was wondering, anyway. And I'm sure everyone in town was too.

“Maybe that's what this is about,” I remarked as Dad pulled into a spot. “Like, flood preparedness. Put a plan in place in case something does happen.”

“Could be,” Dad said. But he didn't sound like he believed it.

We parked and then joined the flow of everyone walking quickly toward the school in little whispery clusters, guessing what was going to happen, what would be said. No one seemed to have a clue.

One news van was parked in the no parking zone. Not many people paid it attention, I think because most of us were on news overload. I know I was. Anyway, we weren't the top story anymore, even with more rain supposedly coming this week. There'd been a car crash with some famous tennis player and he was in critical condition.

“Mr. Hewitt?”

Dad and I both stopped. A man in a suit and tie hopped out of the back of the news van. “Hey. Shawn Wilcox, KPBC. It's great to meet you, put a face to this.” He held up Dad's protest letter. “People in town keep saying that you're the man to talk to.”

“You read it?” Dad brightened. “No one at the governor's office will even acknowledge getting it. I haven't heard back from anyone on the town council. Mayor Aversano is ducking my calls.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Hewitt, things have cooled down on the Aberdeen story. But getting your message on air will definitely help pick attention back up. That, coupled with today's announcement.”

“What are they going to announce?” I asked him, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other.

He looked at me and swallowed. “We're not sure,” he said, which was obviously a lie. An eager-looking cameraman came out of the back of the truck and started framing up my dad. The reporter angled himself away from me. “The problem is that your document is . . . well, it's not exactly
compelling
.” He said the last part like a musical theater kid.

“Okay.”

“You make a sound argument, and . . . off the record . . . I agree with you. I think there are other options the governor is choosing not to explore. Probably because he thinks you-all are going to be easy to railroad with a little”—and at this, the reporter raised his hand and rubbed his fingers together, the international sign for money. “But you need public opinion on your side. The best way to make that happen is a show of strength, like a rally at City Hall. Something visual to prove you've got people behind you. Popular support trumps facts, I'm afraid. We could get you on tape right now, a little interview where you hit the main points in your letter and announce the rally. And boom. You'll be back in business.”

Dad looked at me, and then at the reporter. “I need a minute,” he said, and pulled me around to the front of the news van. “What do you think?”

“I think he's right. You've got to do something big. A rally could be perfect.”

Dad sighed. “I really thought that letter would make a bigger splash. But Governor Ward, he's big-time. He's controlling this story.”

“You said yourself . . . people have won these kinds of fights, Dad. And look. This reporter thinks you have something.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, what's the worst that could happen? No one shows up? That's impossible. You have people supporting you. Charlie and Sy, and all the people you've done work for, Bess and Russell Dixon, and everyone who's come by the house. Not to mention Mom, and me . . .”

Dad nodded and then took a breath. “I guess I don't have much to lose. How do I look?” He cleared his throat. “Too slick?”

I almost laughed. Slick? “You look fine, Dad. Like yourself. Salt of the earth.”

He crouched down to check his hair in the side mirror of a random parked car. Then we walked back over to the reporter.

“Okay, let's do this. But can we wait until after the meeting?”

The reporter shook his head. “We need to get you right now so we can edit a teaser for the lunchtime broadcast. The more we can get this out before the evening news, the more viewers you'll have tuning in.”

Dad gave me an uneasy look.

“It's okay. I'll find you when it's over and tell you what they said in there.”

As I walked away, I saw Levi and Sheriff Hamrick slowing down. They watched my father chatting with the reporter. I swear Sheriff Hamrick looked nervous. Levi's eyes moved on to me, and as soon as they did, I gave him a smug little wave hello.

Maybe the annoying man from the town meetings wasn't seen as a threat. But that wasn't who Dad was anymore.

They had no idea who they were dealing with.

•  •  •

I found Morgan in the middle of the auditorium. She'd saved seats on either side of her, one for me and one for Elise. Parents stood in the back of the auditorium or along the aisles on the side. I looked around for Jesse but didn't see him.

Mrs. Dorsey was there, and she gave me a warm hug hello. “Your mom said your dad was coming.”

“He's outside talking to a reporter.”

Her eyes went big. “Oh yeah?” she said, and I think she wanted it to sound casual, but it didn't. It sounded concerned. And as soon as I passed her and climbed into the row, I saw her take out her phone and I knew she was calling my mom.

Principal Bundy stood at a lectern in the center of the stage, waiting for everyone to quiet down. Most of the teachers and faculty were up there with her, and some were dabbing at their eyes. The red curtain was pulled back, exposing the gaping hole of a black stage. The props and sets from the musical a few weeks ago had been dismantled and thrown away.

Morgan took my hand and squeezed it, as if we were sharing a seat on a roller coaster and were about to take the first drop.

“Where's Elise?”

“She got stuck in traffic on her way from the hotel. She was going to sleep over last night, but her parents wanted to be here for this.”

Bundy cleared her throat and launched into a very boring speech about the history of Aberdeen High School, how it had been around since the early 1900s and the first graduating class was only four students. She listed off a bunch of our notable former graduates, who didn't seem that noteworthy to me besides a dude who apparently worked on movies in Hollywood. And then, after a deep breath and a bunch of impatient mumbling from the crowd, she got to it.

“Officially, we have seventeen days left of this school year. Luckily, we had an easy winter, and we didn't have to utilize any of our five allowed emergency days. The state office of the Department of Education has reviewed protocol, and in light of current circumstances, they've decided that next Friday, a week from tomorrow, will be our last day.”

I whipped my head around to Morgan.

We were supposed to have almost a month left.

Bundy continued. “Finals will be canceled.” There was an uproar at this, mostly cheers. But I didn't cheer. I had a couple of zeros, and two crap test grades from the week spent chatting up Jesse before Spring Formal. Finals were going to be my way to catch up.

“In lieu of exams, your grades will be calculated based on classwork that's been accomplished, and in certain circumstances, extra-credit opportunities will be provided and—”

“How is this legal?” shouted out an angry parent. Suddenly, there were a lot of rumbling whispers.

“I promise you, we've been in close contact with Governor Ward. What we have here is a safety issue. As I'm sure you are aware, there is more rain in the forecast, and we need to begin preparations for cleaning and maintenance and salvage of this building. Also, we want to be respectful to the families who will be departing Aberdeen in the coming days; we don't want them to feel as if they ought to be staying. We're going to be offering counseling services to any students who might—”