Eruption (Yellowblown™ Book 1) (25 page)

“Does he have anywhere to go?” Mom asked.

“I don’t think so. If he does, he didn’t say anything to me. He’s still a little spun out. And I didn’t want to quiz him and make him think he had to leave.”

“He’s welcome to stay with us, but we thought we’d better ask you first,” Dad said.

I pushed my hair off my forehead, trying to act cool while my heart rate went up to something approaching cardiac arrest. “Fine with me,” I said.

Mom grinned. “Something tells me it would be more than fine.”

Dad squinted at me. “He’d better act like a gentleman around you girls or he’s out,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “In fact, maybe he should sleep in my old room down at Grampa and Grandma’s.”

“Dad,” I groaned.

“Oh, Matt,” Mom sighed. “He’s the most polite boy either of the girls has ever brought home.” She patted my shoulder. “We’ll see what he says.”

At dinner,
Sara shared every detail of the Gardenburg School District’s systematic destruction of her life. They’d reduced the school week to Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and cancelled all extra-curriculars.

“Danny’s parents are being ridiculous
,” she moaned. “They say he can’t drive to Gardenburg to go on a date. Where else are we supposed to go? I mean, for four days a week? Like we’re going to hang out at our houses when the Internet is, like, totally unreliable and the only thing on TV is Yellowblown, Yellowblown, Yellowblown. I’m so sick of it!”

“We’ve got plenty to keep you occupied around here,” Dad said with a sarcastic smile.

“Gee, thanks but no thanks. I poked enough seeds in the ground to last me a lifetime.” She sighed. “I’m glad we got to have Homecoming before this mess. I still think I should have been allowed to walk out on the track with Danny. I’m his girlfriend after all, even if I can’t be in the court.”

Boone kept his head down through my sister’s
diatribe. He ate a second plate of meatloaf (the good kind) while she worked through a litany of complaints about the extra projects the teachers assigned to keep the students “engaged”—complete with air quotes—over their four-day weekends. I privately agreed with her since the WCC online learning plan had gone exactly nowhere. Her delivery left much to be desired, though. Sara was at the weird age where, one day she acted like this, and the next she would be selfless, mature and fun to be around. On moody days like this, I wanted to knock her block off.

Whe
n Mom brought out a pot of coffee and some mugs, I knew The Conversation was about to happen.

“Ugh,” Sara said, “if you guys are going to sit and
talk
, I’m outta here.”

“You’ve been talking for twenty minutes straight,” I said.

“Whatever,” she said as she cleared her plate.

“God forbid people actually converse
over a cup of coffee in a kitchen instead of typing messages into little handheld gizmos at Starbucks,” Dad called to her retreating back. Mom handed him his decaf with a dribble of cream. “Thanks, hon. So, Boone, we weren’t trying to be nosy but, from your side of the conversation, it sounds like your situation may have changed.”

Boone sat up straight. He looked from Dad to me and back again while Mom put
full mugs in front of us. “Yes, sir. My parents are leaving the ranch, or so they say. They don’t want me to try to go there. But I might go anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised to find them there.”

Mom murmured into her coffee while Dad frowned. “I doubt that,” he said. “
Things weren’t too bad south and east earlier this week, but Illinois…well, the farther west I drove the less normal the situation felt. Some of the fuel stations were out of gas. The rest stops were full of people coming from the west. Trucks and campers and broken down cars, overheated or eaten up by the ash. That was a couple of days ago. I can’t imagine it’s gotten any better.”

“I got supplies back at school. I can get myself h
ome,” Boone said confidently.

“Maybe,” Dad said. “We
—Candy and me, and I’m sure Violet, too—we think you might want to trust your parents on this. You know, see where they land and join them there, in a few days.”

“The first priority
of all parents,” Mom interjected, “is to protect their children. If they feel the situation out there is too dangerous, maybe you should listen.”

“
You’re welcome to stay here. For as long as you need a place,” Dad said.

Boone
’s neck flushed at the idea. “No, sir, I can’t impose on you like that. I mean, I probably eat more than Violet and Sara combined.”

Dad leaned back in his chair
to fold his hands over a stomach that had been flatter a few years ago. “I have to admit, it was quite an imposition when you wrestled the tractor around to dig those holes, slick as grease. Hell, I’d still be out there fighting with that fence.”

“
You won’t need post holes dug every day.”

“Maybe not specifically.
Still, seems like a time when a set of strong shoulders and some practical experience might be darned useful. I’m not saying we’ll be slave drivers or anything, but my dad’s in his seventies and I’ve never been very handy. Anyway, you’re far from an imposition.”

Mom spoke
before Boone could decline again. “Look, visit with us until your parents decide where they’re staying. There’s no point in your going home if they aren’t there, and less point in your wandering around aimlessly. You can use our landline.”

Times had sure changed if
a wired telephone was a big selling point.

I watched the negotiations with both sympathy and hope. I’d been on the receiving end of the Matt and Candy double-team before
. It was stupefying, plus Boone had already gone a few rounds with his own parents today. Still, I wanted Mom and Dad to win this one.

The thought of Boone leaving alone for the unknown made me feel sick.

 

Text to Mia:

I wandered into Sara’s room after midnight
, buoyed by elation and hyperness. I wished Mia were here. Or would answer my text. I also wouldn’t have minded having a serious make-out session with Hotness, but he’d been dazed since accepting my parents’ power invitation. He’d retreated to his room after the local news.

Sara
lay on her stomach on her bed, feet kicking through the air as she studied a hairstyle magazine. “What do you think about pink streaks, like these?” She pointed at a model with stripes the color and width of bubble gum tape in her honey-blonde hair.

I shrugged. “Not bad. I think these darker ones, the green or blue, go better with your natural color.”

“Maybe. What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you Boone
’s going to stay for awhile. Until his parents get settled somewhere.”

“
Nice.” She flipped a page. “How did you ever catch him? He’s fab.”

Not sure
whether to be insulted or flattered, I decided to make a joke since I couldn’t answer the question anyway. I had no idea how I’d ever attracted him. “Sex,” I said.

“Oh, is he good?” Sara said, not looking up from a fire-engine red dye job set into spikes
perfect for shish-kebabs.

“I was kidding
.”

Sara shrugged. “With a body like his, he sure wouldn’t get boring for a
while. Eye candy, if nothing else.”

“Omigod,” I said. “You keep your eyes on Danny
’s candy.”

Her feet stopped kicking. S
he looked up at me with a wicked smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not after your man.”

“Eww
. Boone is like six years older than you.”

She turned back to her magazine.
“You should take him somewhere tomorrow. It’s the weekend, after all. Have fun before everything closes and we all die in this vacuum of nothingness.”

I considered the idea as she
flipped absently through the short hairdos. I
should
get him out of the house. I wish I’d thought of it tonight. A movie or a slice of pizza might have taken his mind off things at home.

I retreated to my own room
to flop on the bed, at first thinking about Boone, then horrified by the realization my baby sister had definitely given up her virginity before me. Should I have a talk with her to make sure she and Danny were taking precautions? I scrapped the idea. Her reaction would be scathing and sarcastic, and, if the conversation lasted more than thirty seconds, she’d learn she knew way more about sex than me.

The picture in my head of her and scrawny Danny
almost made me puke, so I tried to replace it with one of me and Boone. Maybe if I took him out tomorrow we could go park somewhere….

The light flickered then went out. A few electronics in the house wheezed farewell beeps and I heard my Dad muttering downstairs. I rolled over to go to sleep.
 

No power also meant no water, since an electric well pump supplied our house. Mom, of course, had full gallon jugs on standby in every bathroom so we could at least brush our teeth and occasionally flush the toilet.

I
fixed a bowl of cereal with milk from a jug wedged in a small cooler of ice, like a split of champagne. A hand-lettered sign on the fridge said “Do NOT open.”

Boone wandered out
of the hallway, black sports socks shuffling on the laminate flooring.

I poured coffee and helped him get cereal
before I asked, “How about a bike ride?”

As he unloaded his bike, I noticed a thin layer of
beige dust coated his truck. I pictured the ash hanging like germs in the air, invisible until you noticed a clean surface now gritty, harmless until power went out without any good reason.

I led us
northwest first, skirting the high fences of the weapons base, then east to the gravel roads of the state forest. We sat on the damp bank of the White River to eat a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and suck water out of our packs.

“There
’s more open space in Indiana than I realized.”

“We’re lucky
here, I guess. We’re insulated by government land. On the other hand, things are pretty dead. Not a big night life. We don’t even have a post office.”