Effortless With You (16 page)

Justin shrugs and walks over, patting me on the back. “Alex here told me you were refusing water break and so I thought I would take matters into my own hands.”

Alex shrugs next to him, he moves just like Justin. “Sorry, Lucy. You needed it.”

“Betrayal,” I mutter.

Justin slaps me on the back, “Oh come on,
friend
. You’ll get over it. I’m sure.” He smiles in a way that makes his dimples pop. A goofy grin creeps across my face. My hand flies over my mouth to hide it.

Troy yells, “BREAK.”

“Finally,” Justin says. “It’s time to buy him a new watch. I’m starved.”

Alex brings me my lunch box, he owed me. I ring the water out of my tank top. Now that the shock has worn away, I actually don’t mind it. It's refreshing. I lie back on the grass in the sunlight, a feeble attempt at drying myself in the high humidity. I close my eyes, listening to the rhythmic bounce of the basketball on the street. The sound is as comforting as rain. My mind drifts back to yesterday. It seems so long ago.

I brace myself, waiting for the memory to overwhelm me. I take a deep breath as the harsh words and images filter through my mind. I wait for the nausea but it never surfaces. I check my hands. Steady as a rock.

I look at Justin helping Luke with dribbling. I smile.

He’s right. I’m going to be alright.

***

I abandon all of my worries in my work. I don’t notice the air turning an orange color until Alex throws a rag at me and points to the sky. Wind whooshes past us, making my bangs whip and sting my cheek. I pull out a bobby pin from my waist band and sweep them out of the way.

The sky is beautiful. Orange, pink, and yellow hues dance in the clouds. Everything is quiet. Our usual chatter echoes the sky’s mood, dying away into silence. I look at Alex, who keeps looking up at the sky and back at Justin. The rest of the crew does the same. Justin and Troy stand near the truck, listening to the radio.

The wind picks up, large tree branches creaking in protest. Alex looks at me and shouts over the wind, “I’m going to go talk some sense into them. This meeting deadline stuff is bull if we’re gonna get blown away.” Luke and Jake follow him to the truck. Emmanuel shrugs at me from the scaffolding across the courtyard before turning back to his portion of the siding.

I dip my brush back into the white paint. My ladder sways a bit to the right and I grab the eve of the roofing, holding on to steady myself, the ladder, and my paint can. I glance at Justin and Troy, hoping they’ll make the decision to call it a day. Justin leans in through his car window, trying to hear the radio over everyone’s opinions. Troy looks at the sky, his arms crossed and shaking his head.

The large oak tree behind me startles me with a creak. As I glance back, one of the thick branches bends from stress. I instinctively tighten my grip, this time with both hands, onto the roof’s edge. Immediately, a gust of wind hits my ladder. My fingers dig into the roofing as my feet meet the air. The ladder clangs on the sidewalk below
. Crack
, the tree branch crashes to the ground.

I scream, struggling to find a ledge of the siding to dig my feet into.

Alex drops his water bottle and runs toward me. I dig my fingernails into the shingles and tighten my muscles. I look down, a two-story fall to the ground.

“Hold on.”

“Catch her.”

“Shit.”

I struggle to maintain my grip; my wrists feel like they are going to snap. A new ladder bumps up beside me. An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me over to the ladder. “It’s okay. You can let go.” Emmanuel’s voice reassures me. “Seriously, I’ve got you.”

“Let go.” Justin’s voice shakes from below.

Another gust of wind hits the side of the house, jostling Emmanuel’s ladder. I cling to the roof even tighter than before.

“Emmanuel. Get her down before you both fall. Now.”

“Come on, Lucy, let go.” The ladder starts to sway below us. “We’ve got to do this, now.”

I let go. Wind whooshes around the corner toward us. Branches crack from the trees. I cling to Emmanuel as our ladder falls to the right.

“Don’t let go.” Emmanuel instructs. He wraps both arms around my waist.

The fall takes forever. I close my eyes, allowing Emmanuel to lead. He hesitates a moment before he jumps, pushing me out in front of him. I brace myself for impact. But it never comes as another set of arms wrap around my waist, pulling me away from Emmanuel.
Thud.
Emmanuel slams against the ground.

Luke pulls me into his body and eases me to the ground. Justin rushes to Emmanuel’s side. My heart pounds—
move, Emmanuel
. Justin turns him over but he doesn’t respond. Justin shakes him and leans in close to check for a heartbeat. My throat tightens.

Justin presses his head against his chest. Alex steadies Emmanuel’s neck.

I stop breathing.

Suddenly, Emmanuel’s arm whips up and grabs Justin’s shirt, dragging him down. Emmanuel punches Justin in the nuts. Alex bursts out laughing as Justin rolls to the side, gasping for air.

Luke lets out a breath before letting me go. He pats me on the back.

Emmanuel stands up. “Serves you right, Justin. Deadlines my ass. You almost killed us!” Emmanuel calls to me, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He shrugs, looking back at Justin who still lies on the ground cupping his groin. “Someone has to be thinking, right?” He rolls his eyes before holding out his hand to Justin, pulling him off the ground.

I turn around to Luke. “Thanks to you too. How exactly did that work?”

“Emmanuel’s from California. He loves to surf. He just rode the ladder down like a wave and handed you off before he hit the ground.” He points at Justin who’s still crunched over and groaning. “I’m pretty sure his fall was more to prove a point than anything else.”

Alex tugs on my arm. “Man, woman. Do you ever have a normal day?” He pulls me into a hug before giving me his signature pat on the back.

I wonder the same thing.

The wind picks up again. I jump at the sound of abandoned ladders crashing to the ground. The oak tree gives another protesting creak as its branches bend above us.

“Alright. Call it,” Justin yells. “Get your stuff and get home. Safely,” he adds.

Everyone breaks away from the huddle, grabbing everything in their path. I walk over to my ladder, grabbing its edge. My fingertips and palms protest in pain as I swing it up and over my shoulder. I search for my paint can, finding it in the daisies which are now splattered with white paint. The roof’s edge hangs above me where only moments before I’d been dangling. I can’t help but shudder at the what-ifs.

The oak tree makes a popping sound, jolting me out of my state of shock and awe. I readjust the ladder over my back. The ladder seems so much heavier than earlier that day. I watch the guys in the distance effortlessly throw their ladders and supplies into Justin’s truck bed. For the first time, I really do wish I was that large He-She-like creature that the senior girls called me. I could use the strength today.

I focus on Justin, climbing into the truck bed and surveying the supplies. The rest of the guys have taken refuge in their vehicles. Thankfully, the changing weather distracted everyone from my struggle. I don’t want any more attention.

I dig my feet into the ground, determined to get my ladder to the truck on my own. I refuse to be lame and leave it behind. But the oak tree urges me to with every creak. It doesn’t understand. I don’t always want to be the damsel in distress. I need to do this on my own.

Sheets of rain pour from the sky. The sound is near deafening. I readjust my grip on the metal. My palm stings as if glass has cut me. The ladder slips through my palms, crashing on the sidewalk below.

I bend over, determined to do something right. Surprisingly, the ladder lifts with ease. I look up as Justin takes it from me, swinging it over his shoulder. He pushes me in front of him toward the truck.

Damn. I’m sick of being so hopeless and weak.

Boom.
A cannon of thunder.

Justin throws the ladder in the truck bed and pulls me around to the front. I reach up, grabbing the door’s handle only to be rewarded with pain shooting through my palms. Red blood drips down the side of Justin’s white truck.

Justin gasps as he reaches past me and grabs the handle, opening the door and lifting me onto the seat. White pellets fall on Justin’s shoulders and it’s like I’m stuck in a popcorn maker. Justin stands outside, oblivious to the hail and rain. He turns over my palms, searching for the cause of the blood. I look at my hands with the same curiosity.

My fingertips are scraped and raw, already swollen and bleeding. Large calluses have been ripped from my palms. Small holes weep blood in their place. Two deep cuts are positioned on my right palm where blood seeps freely.

Justin removes his hands from mine. He takes off his shirt, pressing the wet cloth into my palms. I close my hands around it and focus on the white fabric changing red. The shirt stings but I hold it tightly. It’s a good distraction from Justin’s abs. The door shuts and a moment later the other opens. Justin slides in next to me.

He grabs my wrists, pulling my hands back in his. “Lucy, crap.” Water drips down my face. I am pretty sure it isn’t from tears. At least, I hope not.

The sirens blare and the wind gusts pick up. Justin swears, dropping my hands, turning the ignition and throwing the truck into reverse. The radio broadcast continues, “Severe Thunderstorm Warning in effect.”

“Thunderstorm warning? Look outside.” Justin shouts at the radio. I glance through my window. Clouds swirl above us as Justin speeds away from the neighborhood. He pulls onto the highway. We’re flying with a few other cars at over eighty miles per hour.

“That’s a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for Hennepin County.” The radio voice reiterates. A siren blares from the radio. “Update: Tornado Watch in effect for West Hennepin County.” I roll down the window for a clear view at the sky. The clouds drop lower, spinning in opposite directions above us. “Justin, the clouds …” Cars stop and drivers run down into the ditch.

The truck screeches to a halt with them. I turn, fumbling with the door’s latch. “Forget it,” Justin shouts over the wind. A bush blows past my window as he pulls me over his lap with one arm. He throws the door open, pushing me out of the truck and into the ditch.

Justin shoves me against the ground. I duck, covering the back of my head like they taught me in elementary school. I feel more pressure over my head as Justin’s body presses over me. Two women scream as the sound of a train approaches. Cars scrape against the pavement and smash into one another. Justin lies next to me, one hand over my head. The train drowns all noises.

I hold my breath.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The train roars. Sour iron particles coat my tongue. Dirt. My throat swells. There’s no way this is happening. Justin’s hand presses down harder on the back of my neck. “HOLD ON,” he yells in my ear.

To what? I grasp a fistful of grass.

Metal screeches cut through the wave of noise. The tornado has arrived. A vacuum attaches to my ears. My brain is being sucked out. My feet and legs lift, suction dragging me across the grass. Shit. I’m gone. I scream, grasping for more grass but ending with fistfuls of mud. Suddenly, a huge pressure falls on my body.

Hot breath blows against my neck. Justin.

The wind sucks harder, but I don’t budge. It dampens as leaves and branches surround us. Justin grunts. His breath is wet and rapid on my neck. I pray.

The roaring of the train disappears as quickly as it arrived. Justin’s breathing slows. He waits a moment before rolling off of me. I open my eyes, looking straight into the branches of a tree. I didn’t even hear it fall on us. The trunk hangs suspended above our ditch, between the road and its base. We army-crawl out from underneath. I sit up, surveying the damage. Justin’s truck stands untouched but a few cars are flipped over and one has been thrown against the concrete barrier. Trees are flung through the noise-barrier fences, exposing backyards and houses with partial roofs.

“Is everyone okay?” a man nearby yells.

Justin’s eyes are glazed and his mouth hangs slightly open. Totally frozen. “Alright here,” I yell out, responding for us. I stand up, still clasping Justin’s shirt in my hand. Justin stays on his knees, pressing his face into his palms. I turn toward the screaming next to us.

I run to the group of women huddled on the ground. “Are you okay?” They cling together. I pull them apart, quickly assessing for injuries. All are breathing and uninjured. Just rightfully terrified.

I check for passengers in the two flipped over vehicles.

“The red one’s mine,” a man shouts from the ditch.

“And the white one’s ours,” a woman says as she places her hand on my shoulder. “We’re all accounted for.”

 “So everyone’s alright?”