The Last Boy and Girl in the World (20 page)

“You doing okay?” I asked Elise, hoping she wanted to go.

She nodded pertly. “I'm having a great time.”

“Great.” I sat there, sipping another beer, waiting for Jesse to come back.

It hadn't been so long that Jesse and I had been flirting. I felt it should be easy to go backward to before we spoke down by the river, to erase the past two weeks. The problem was, of course, that I'd loved him for longer than that. Way longer.

On my way to throw my beer bottle out, I saw Victoria and Jesse hugging in a corner. I walked by fast, hoping he wouldn't see me, but he did. He reached out and tried to grab me. “What's the hurry?”

“I think we're leaving,” I said, not because it was true but because I would make sure of it, and I tried not to sound heartbroken.

“Oh. So soon?”

“Yeah, well . . . you know how it goes.” I ducked out from under him. “I'll let you get back to Victoria.”

Jesse wrinkled his face, like that was a weird thing for me to have said, which I know it was. It was also cowardly, because I couldn't ask him directly what was going on. I was too afraid to hear the answer.

He stepped away from a frowning Victoria and took my hand, pulling me to a stop. “Don't go,” he said, and let his head drop onto my shoulder. He whispered, “I suck at good-byes.”

For a second, I thought he was talking about me. Saying good-bye to me. But then he looked over his shoulder at Victoria. She was watching us, but then one of her friends ushered her away. “She's leaving this weekend for good.”

“What?”

“Her house was totally flooded. It wasn't destroyed like your friend's, but they definitely can't live there anymore. The adjusters are working on an offer. She's been holed up in the gym with her family ever since the evacuation, but it's driving them crazy. They're going to go stay with her aunt while things get settled. She's, like, three hours away.”

“Oh. You must be sad to see her go. I know you two are . . . close.”

He looked at me funny. “Keeley, I'm not with Victoria.” I must have looked shocked, because then he said, “Wow. I thought I had skills, but I guess not if you didn't realize I've been flirting with you tonight.”

I loved that it was all suddenly so simple.

But there was also the truth of what had happened. That something weird had gone down between us at Spring Formal that made what was hot suddenly run ice cold. I thought it was Victoria. Or what I'd said.

Maybe it wasn't anything.

Or if it was something, maybe that something didn't matter anymore.

“Seriously, though. I'm really glad you came. I feel like you're someone who gets the point of tonight.”

“Am I?”

He nudged his chin toward two girls huddled in the corner. “See that girl over there? She's seriously been sobbing all night. I mean, I feel bad for her, but she's definitely making a choice to be the crying girl at the party.” He shook his head, then looked back at me. “And then there's a girl like you, who doesn't hesitate one freaking second before stripping down to her bikini and taking a run on the Slip 'N Slide in front of everyone.” He cleared his throat. “A very cute bikini, might I add.”

I pinched the skin between my thumb and my pointer finger, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Jesse was complimenting the very parts of me that I blamed for him
not
liking me.

“There aren't a lot of girls like you in the world, Keeley, which makes the fact that I found you here in Aberdeen so crazy awesome.”

I felt deeply in that moment that Jesse and I were kindred spirits, one and the same. I think he felt it too. And for that reason, I leaned in and kissed him. I kissed Jesse Ford right on his beautiful mouth, and though I could tell he was surprised, he still kissed me back. He cupped the side of my face in his hand and kissed me back. I felt like every single crack inside me was sealed up with happiness. It didn't matter in those moments if Aberdeen flooded to the sky, because I was watertight.

He pulled away, but not too far. Enough to kiss the tip of my nose, then my forehead. Finally, he opened his eyes.

“Okay, wait. Now I really don't want you to leave tonight.” He kissed me again. “If Aberdeen really ends up going under, let's make sure you and I are the last ones here, having a good time until the end, okay?”

“Keeley?”

It was Morgan. Her cheeks were hot pink, she must have seen us kissing. “Elise's mom just texted her and she wants her back at the hotel right away.”

Because Jesse couldn't see, I mouthed
Oh my God!
before answering calmly, “Okay, no problem. I'll be right there.”

Jesse gave me one last kiss. “I'll call you.” And he sweetly waved bye to Morgan.

“Oh my God,” I whispered again, gripping Morgan's arm tight as we walked away together.

“Looks like Jesse wasn't lying.”

“What do you mean?”

She held up her phone. Jesse had posted the video of me doing the Slip 'N Slide to his site. He'd tagged it #
DreamGirl
.

I know a lot of people that night were worried about how their lives were going to change. But everything had already changed for me, and all for the better.

Wednesday, May 18

Morning clouds, 70% chance of a thunderstorm in the afternoon, high of 63°F

Elise sent a text at five the next morning. Turns out the reason her mom needed her back at the hotel was that one of the national morning news shows wanted to interview her family. An anchorperson from New York City had flown in last night while we were at the mill. Elise snapped us a few pictures of the chaos at the hotel. There were a hair and makeup team, men setting up lighting rigs, someone with a headset arranging a vase of fake flowers on a coffee table. The last picture she sent was one of herself getting done up for the appearance. The makeup looked heavy to me, her eyebrows almost Muppet-like, but I knew from magazines that it would look natural on television.

I knocked on my parents' bedroom door to tell them, expecting that only Mom would be inside. But Dad was there too, sleeping next to her, not downstairs at his computer like he would normally be. I blushed so hard, head to toe, as if I'd caught them doing something really gross. Like spooning or . . . worse.

That goes to show how far they'd drifted apart.

I quietly backed out of the room, but Mom shot up in bed. “Is everything okay?”

Dad rolled over and lifted his head. “Kee, what's up?”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Elise's family is going to be on TV.”

“No kidding!” Mom scooted over to the middle of the bed. I clicked on the television on top of their dresser and then climbed into her warm spot. I felt like a little kid again, when my parents let me watch cartoons in their bed so they wouldn't have to get up and take me downstairs.

I dozed off before the segment started, but Mom elbowed me awake to dramatic music and a lot of quick cuts. The river crashing over the sandbags, then creeping up the first few streets in town. Owen, the stock boy, wading through the aisles of Viola's Market. Inside the Presbyterian church, where the floorboards had buckled, the neat rows of pews all askew like a game of pickup sticks, Bibles covered in sludge.

I thought about texting Jesse to turn on his TV, but it was still crazy early and I had no idea if he liked to sleep in or if he was an early riser. I had memorized the facets of Jesse that were accessible to me from a distance at school—like, say, his love of orange Gatorade—but I couldn't wait to catalog the random, more intimate stuff. Like, did he wear pajamas or did he prefer to sleep in his boxers? Was he a late-night snacker, and if yes, did he typically go sweet or savory? Did he take showers at night or in the morning?

Meanwhile, the news anchor narrated the plans for damming the river. And there was a new interview with the governor, too. “Waterford City is the epicenter of the economy for the whole state. We can't allow it to be vulnerable because of Aberdeen's instability.”

When the governor was elected, my dad had been so mad, he went out in the middle of the night and started a fire on the brush pile and drank an entire six-pack of beer.

The last thing they showed was an aerial view of Elise's block, all the homes that had been washed away.

Then they cut to Elise and her two younger brothers on a hotel couch, her mother and father perched behind them on two director's chairs. It was weird to see Elise, someone I knew, on television. Anyone in the country could tune in and see her. Our little world of Aberdeen was so small, so incestuous. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew everyone's parents and their brothers and their sisters. I used to think that was kind of annoying, but now, suddenly, I didn't want to lose it.

A woman wearing a peachy dress, several chunky gold necklaces, and perfectly blown-out hair tossed softball questions, stuff like how it feels to lose your home and then your town. Elise's mom cried a little, the boys mainly fidgeted. Then the anchor brought up how the governor had given them a stack of gift cards to spend.

“See that?” Dad said, waving his hand dismissively at the screen. “I bet Governor Ward traded a favor to get that mentioned. He probably promised this lady an exclusive interview. He needs all the good press he can get right now, especially since I'm sure he's heard that a lot of folks aren't happy.”

I didn't hear the newswoman's next question because of Dad's rant, but the camera was now on Elise. “My friends have been so incredibly supportive,” she said. I chewed on my fingernail. Elise was definitely talking about Morgan, but I hoped she meant me, too. My mom ruffled my hair. She automatically assumed Elise did. “And it sort of makes it easier to cope, knowing everyone in Aberdeen is facing the same tragedy. We're just the first ones going through it.”

Near the end of the interview, the reporter set her interview questions down on her knee and leaned forward. “There's been some suspicion among your neighbors about a very lucrative waterfront property deal gone sour in Waterford City, and that damming the river might now resurrect it.”

“Oh my God, Dad! Your protest letter!”

Dad sat up. Mom laid her hand on his leg and gave him a gentle pat.

Back on the television, Elise's parents shrugged. “Yes, we've heard that.”

The anchor nodded. “Then do you believe that Governor Ward's plan is about shoving aside the poor to protect the interests of the rich?”

It felt weird to hear someone refer to the people living in Aberdeen as poor. All my friends' parents had jobs, they worked hard, had nice homes with tidy front lawns. I think every single girl at Spring Formal was wearing a new dress. There were plenty of people who were way worse off than us in Aberdeen.

“That's exactly what it is,” came an answer, my dad's voice. He sat up and reached for his cane. “Did you hear how that lady framed that question? Making anyone who's questioning this sound like we're a bunch of conspiracy loonies?” I wasn't sure I'd heard her do that, exactly, but I also wasn't listening super closely. Dad rose stiffly to his feet. “This is what happens. Ward has the media in his back pocket and he's using them to shut down the conversation before it even starts.”

I felt bad. Here Dad was, practically going door to door to help out his neighbors, trying his best to figure out a game plan and encourage them to fight alongside him. But that was nothing compared to the reach this news show was going to get.

Mom felt around the sheets for the remote. “Here, come back to bed. I'll turn this off and Kee and I can go watch downstairs. You should sleep.”

“I'm fine,” Dad said, crossing the room. “I got to get up anyway.”

On the screen, Elise's dad cleared his throat. “It's not really our place to speculate on that. What I will say is that we feel we've been treated fairly.”

“I doubt it,” my dad muttered. He went over to his dresser.

I bit my lip. Elise had asked us not to blab about how much money her family had settled for, but I made the snap decision that telling my parents was okay. “Umm, Elise said they got five hundred thousand dollars,” I said.

Mom's head whirled around. “You're kidding.”

“Nope. I mean, they did lose everything. And their house was nice. But still. Isn't that a crazy amount of money?”

Dad's back was to me, so I couldn't see how my news landed. But he didn't miss a beat when he said, “That wouldn't be enough for us to leave. Not even close.”

When he said that, Mom turned her eyes back to the television, blinking every few seconds, her face unfocused.

The forecast was up next.

•  •  •

Our Lady of the Angels, one of the churches in town, quickly organized a drive to donate supplies to the families who were most in need. I was glad of a chance to do something.

And I figured that donations would be a way to help out my dad's cause. If people were comfortable, if they had the things they needed, they'd be more inclined to stay in Aberdeen and stand up to the governor with him.

I went into our attic and started grabbing blankets, old sheets that used to belong to my grandma and grandpa, and other useful stuff that people might need. I came upon a couple of boxes packed with my old toys and books and clothes. The clothes were easy to donate, but I weirdly had a harder time with the other stuff. Not that anyone was asking specifically for toys or books, but I figured that when you lose everything, you need everything. I pulled out a teddy bear I'd named Rosebud because her hands were sewn together and she was clasping a little rosebud. She was so soft and cute. Dad bought Rosebud for me when I was five and had my tonsils out. He picked her out at the hospital gift shop and I remember him coming into my hospital room in his dirty work clothes with her for me, looking so scared, wanting to make sure I was okay. He almost forgot to give the bear to me. Mom had to remind him. “Oh! Hey! What's that in Daddy's arms?” There was a rattle inside the nubby tail, but I didn't care if that made her babyish.