The Last Boy and Girl in the World (36 page)

I pulled off my shirt and slid the dress on over my jeans. It mostly fit, except I had trouble getting the zipper up in the back. Morgan would help me with that, or else safety-pin it. How cool, I thought, that Morgan and I would be wearing our moms' dresses.

Before I headed back downstairs, I picked up my copy of
A Wrinkle in Time
from the bookshelf. I wanted to finish rereading it. When I did, I noticed a white piece of paper tucked between two books on the shelf below. Everything on that shelf was old and yellowed, but the paper was crisp and bright white. It had been folded in threes. I opened it up.

It was an offer from the government adjusters for our home.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

The two signature lines, with my mom's and dad's names printed under them, were blank.

I immediately imagined my mom at City Hall, helping one of her patients meet with an adjuster. And afterward, she'd linger until she could be sure no one else was around. Then she'd duck in and ask one, confidentially, what they might expect for a settlement.

If Dad found out, he'd never forgive her. If the people who were still supporting Dad found out, that'd be even worse. They'd never forgive him. He'd managed to get a page and a half of signatures. Not much, but it was still something. And there were still a few people in the balance, like Mrs. Dorsey and Jesse's mom, who hadn't signed but hadn't made any moves yet either.

Obviously, I wasn't going to tell anyone what I had found. But who else could? One of the adjusters? Mom? Mrs. Dorsey probably knew. Which meant Morgan did too. I really hoped my mom wasn't that stupid. But the fact that I was there, holding that offer in the first place, didn't give me much hope.

Friday, May 27

Extended Weekend Forecast: We are tracking a band of severe thunderstorms moving up from the south. Current models project Aberdeen County receiving significant rainfall beginning in 36–48 hours. Please stay tuned for further updates.

The graduation ceremony for the final senior class of Aberdeen High was held first thing in the morning. Underclassmen were excused for the day, our last day, but a lot of us showed up anyway.

Not Morgan. She'd decided that yesterday would be her last day. She said good-bye to all her teachers, took pictures of us in front of our lockers. I was surprised, especially considering the guilt trip she gave me over my supposed nonappreciation of Mineo's, but I wasn't about to call her out on it, since that fight was over and done with and things were okay between us again.

I remembered from years past that graduation tickets were a hot commodity. Each senior was allotted four, and in the days leading up to graduation, a lot of trading and wheeling and dealing went on to score extra tickets for grandparents or aunts and uncles.

Not this time.

The front three rows were filled with seniors, obviously. Behind them, there were maybe ten rows designated for family. And then the middle of the auditorium was empty, just a smattering of underclassmen until the very last rows. Some kids even had their feet up on the vacant chairs in front of them.

You couldn't really tell any of the seniors apart, because they had on the same hunter-green gowns and matching caps with gold tassels. Some people had decorated the very tops of their caps, which was a loosely embraced tradition. Usually they said
SENIORS RULE
and that sort of thing. There were a few of those here. But other kids had taken a somewhat more depressing view and wrote things like
RIP ABERDEEN
and
I CAN'T SWIM
.

Our high school band was basically dismantled, so a saxophonist, a trumpet player, and a flutist were the only ones onstage, and they played the processional march as loudly as they could, so it would fill the room.

I was pretty distracted. Secret Prom was tomorrow, and the forecast wasn't looking good.

Actually, it was looking terrible.

Supposedly another big storm was coming our way, and for the first time, there was talk of another potential flood. I turned myself into an amateur meteorologist. I was cross-referencing different forecasts, refreshing the radar apps on my phone.

The vice-principal introduced Levi as class valedictorian. Levi walked up and shook the vice-principal's hand, then took his place behind the podium. He had his stack of note cards with him, just as he had yesterday. He flipped nervously through them as if he'd discovered they were out of order or written in a different language.

“Hello,” he eventually said. Too loud.

A few people snickered.

I watched Levi stare out at the crowd. He put his note cards down and then gripped the sides of the podium as if it were his seat on a roller coaster.

“So . . . I'm going places.”

It took a second for some kids to make the connection to the article, I think. Of course, I got it right away. Jesse, too, because he spun around in his seat and gave me a wide-eyed look. Levi helpfully held a copy of it up for the people who didn't. “See,” he said, tapping the headline. “It says right here. Levi Hamrick
, A Guy Who's Going Places! 
”

He took a deep breath. “I have to say, I was pretty embarrassed when this came out. But honestly”—he shrugged—“that's who I wanted to be. I've been preparing to leave Aberdeen ever since . . .” He paused, and I was almost hoping he wouldn't say it. “Umm, ever since my mom died. And so when we got the news about the dam, I thought to myself,
Good. Now I won't have to drive through the intersection where my mom was killed ever again.
”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“But then yesterday, while I was out with a friend, I found myself thinking that once Aberdeen is gone, I'll never ever get to stand in a place where my mom and I were happy together. Even though I normally try not to look, I can see her everywhere if I want.”

My phone buzzed. A text from Jesse.
Wait. Are you his therapist?

And then another.
Seriously though, wtf is this speech? Dead mother = major graduation downer.

I wrote back
LOL,
but if I actually had
laughed out loud
, it would have been that nervous kind. Not ha ha funny laughter.

Levi went on. His cap kept sliding down his forehead, probably because his hair was freshly cut. “We've been told that all good things must come to an end. Even things that feel permanent. Stuff that maybe we take for granted. Like this town. Or for me, my mom. So how tightly
are
we supposed to hold on to stuff that we love? Really tightly? Or not at all? Should we be sad when they go away? Should we fight? Or is letting stuff we love go inevitable, like that old adage says?”

He paused. At first I thought it was a dramatic pause. But then I realized, no, Levi was waiting. Waiting for someone to tell him.

The entire crowd shifted uncomfortably in their seats, like a ship leaning to the side.

Jesse spun around and made a cuckoo face.

I could barely look at Levi. I had pushed him to go off his script. It definitely wasn't boring, but it wasn't exactly going well. He was just sort of standing there, rambling.

And God, oh no. I realized he was about to cry.

Sheriff Hamrick, who was only one row ahead of me, had his jaw set. But the veins in his forehead were bulging. He was not happy.

I had to do something.

I let my phone fall into my lap, cupped my hands, and started one of those slow golf claps.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Nice and slow. Other people began to join in and speeded up.
Clap clap clap.
I stomped along with it too, and other people joined in. The room filled with thunder.
Clapclapclapclap.

“Right, okay,” Levi said, as if someone had told him to get offstage. He nodded and went back to his seat.

Then, after a few more speeches, it was diploma time.

When the vice-principal said Jesse's name, I whooped and hollered. Jesse came across the stage with a snorkeling face mask and breathing tube in his mouth and flippers on his feet. And moved his arms like he was swimming. That got a good bit of applause, probably the most of everyone. He took his diploma, shook the vice-principal's hand, and went back to his seat.

Levi crossed the stage, and I clapped for him, too. I felt bad that it was so quiet. He looked shell-shocked from his speech. Vacant.

A heavy silence came over the entire room once all the diplomas were handed out. I think because we knew this was the end. Not just of their senior year, but of Aberdeen High.

The graduates stood up and filed past us. The band played them out, but it sounded more like a funeral march.

I got up, smoothed my skirt.

Everyone was hanging out on the front lawn, taking pictures, hugging teachers, crying. There were four huge Dumpsters parked along the bus lanes. Mayor Aversano was wasting no time.

I looked around and saw Jesse getting his picture taken with Julia. His mother was taking the photo with her phone, and Jesse had Julia perched up on his shoulder, as if she were a parrot. The man I had seen at the Walmart, Jesse's dad, was not there. Which was a relief.

I walked over slowly, hoping Jesse would see me before I got there. But he was too busy playing with Julia, running around the parking lot, trying to grab his diving mask back.

“Way to graduate,” I said, and gave his arm a playful punch. “The swim gear was a nice touch.”

“Thanks.” He ducked and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before he went back to chasing Julia.

“This is my mask! I'm going to need it for our new swimming pool!”

I figured Julia was talking about the kiddie pool we had bought for Secret Prom. Jesse scooped her up and covered her mouth. Maybe because he was embarrassed that he hadn't paid me back yet? Then he said, “Keeley, what are you doing now? Let's go eat breakfast somewhere. And then I was thinking we go and shoot a video about
you know what.
Reiterate the instructions, make sure everyone knows it's going off tomorrow, rain or shine.”

“Sure, okay. I don't think I have work until later.” I pulled out my phone, thinking I should text Levi, but Jesse snatched it away.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I bet Levi doesn't take off for graduation.”

Julia broke free and Jesse chased her again. I found myself standing next to Jesse's mom.

“Hi, I'm Keeley.” I waited for a flash of recognition. “Um, Jim Hewitt's daughter?” She looked blank. “The Reservoir Resistance.”

Jesse's mom nodded, but she still looked confused. Or maybe she was just distracted. I wanted to ask her about the petition, not give her a hard sell, but maybe casually mention it, but Jesse was calling, “Keeley!” He gave the mask back to Julia and sent her running toward Jesse's mom. “Let's go!”

“Bye,” I said shyly to Jesse's mom.

Jesse put his arm around me. I kept glancing back at the school. It was starting to sink in that this was it. Really it.

“I'm just going to say bye to Zito. Here's my keys.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Jesse took off. Zito was near his car with his family. Jesse came up and gave him a high five, hugged a woman I assumed was Zito's mom. He lifted her off the ground the same way he did to me sometimes. Zito's mom kicked her legs and squirmed.

I looked around and saw Levi standing a few feet away, next to Sheriff Hamrick. Levi smiled obligatorily as his dad took his picture with his phone. Then the two stood side by side, surveying the parking lot. A couple of teachers came up and patted Levi on the back. And also a couple of the AP nerds. But that was it.

I wanted to go over to him, tell him I liked his speech. And I totally would have, if not for Jesse crouching down, waiting for me to hop on his back so he could give me a piggyback ride to his car. A minute later, he was driving us out of our former high school parking lot for the last time.

As we pulled away I thought about the locket I'd passed up to buy with my Spring Formal dress. Sometimes I regretted it, but I wasn't sure what I would have fit in a locket anyway. There were suddenly a million memories I wanted to hold on to. I didn't want to let anything go.

•  •  •

I texted Levi after lunch.
Hey where are you?

At the police station picking up today's paperwork.

Oh. Do you have a lot of houses to see?

Yeah.

Immediately after, he wrote,
Sorry. I know that's not what you want to hear.

It's fine,
I wrote.
I can help you again if you want. You don't have to pay me double this time. Consider it a graduation present.

Okay, thanks.

He texted me the first address.

My stomach growled. I had done the dainty eating routine at the diner with Jesse.
Can you maybe bring me something to eat? I mean, there are donuts at the police station, right? Cops and donuts, that's a thing, isn't it?

Unreal.

And then, a few seconds later,
I got you a chocolate glazed.

•  •  •

Our first house of the day was in the flood zone. And the closer I got to the river, the more red
X
s I saw painted on front doors. There were mountains of garbage and furniture on every corner, some as high as the street signs. It was a little bit scary, actually. Like an apocalypse.

Levi was waiting on the curb, and as soon as he saw me walking toward him, he stood up and pushed the hood of his sweatshirt off his head.

“I forgot to tell you that I liked your speech,” I said. “In case you were wondering.”

“I'm glad
you
did.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad.” He shook his head and handed me my chocolate donut. He'd put it in a Ziploc bag, along with a napkin. “I think he was looking forward to graduation more because it meant I was that much closer to leaving.”