Ella's Twisted Senior Year(8)
Kennedy is telling everyone about which cheerleaders will be single soon and giving my friends tips on how to ask them out. My mind slips once again to that day with Ella and the tornado, and I try to push the thoughts away, but like that damn tornado, they’re going to do what they want to do.
The town emergency alarms were going off. The power went out and Mom was listening to this battery-powered weather radio, repeatedly saying she wished my dad was home. According to the instructions in her home emergency manual, we needed to be in a hallway or closet.
So she chose the square walk in closet in my little sister Dakota’s room. We pulled her baby mattress off the toddler bed and tucked it inside the closet, shoving it between the walls so that it made a roof a few feet off the floor. Mom had Ella, Dakota, and me sit against the wall and under the mattress. Dakota thought it was awesome and had her dolls out playing with them the whole time.
Ella was freaked. I remember putting my arm around her and holding her close to me, trying to act like how my dad would act if Mom was scared. The tornado never really got close to our house, and soon the power came back on and everything was okay.
Ella thanked me for protecting her. And that’s about exactly when I knew I had a crush on the girl next door. Of course, eleven-year-old me wasn’t exactly smooth with girls yet. Instead, I’d floundered around the rest of our childhood, trying to find opportunities to protect her and make her feel safe.
Years later, when she decided she hated me, I’d protected her from Corey, who kept shoving her in the pool. I’d railed on him, punching him straight in the face and yelling that he better not ever do that again because he could hurt her. I guess in my idiot pubescent mind, beating up the guy who kept teasing her would make her like me more.
Instead, it only drove her away. She had the same freaking guy tell me to leave her alone the very next day.
So much for chivalry. We’ve pretty much ignored each other ever since that day.
And now, ironically four years later, a stupid tornado brought us back together in the athletics hallway. Of course, unlike our old friendship, that didn’t last very long.
“You guys ready?” Kennedy says, making a pouting face at her phone. “Dad wants me to go home because apparently the stupid weather is getting bad again.”
She grabs my arm as the guys pile out of the booth. “You wanna come to my house? Maybe the weather can get too bad and you won’t be able to drive home?”
She smiles sweetly, her insinuating message totally received on my end. And then I remember how much of a bitch she was to Ella, and the thought of making out with my hot girlfriend kind of churns my stomach.
“Can’t,” I say, trying to look like I’m just as upset as she is about the missed opportunity. “My parents want me home, too.”
Chapter 5
I tell Mom that there’s been “extensive damage” to our house and that once she’s done saving lives, she should probably rush home. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that our two story brick home, which had once been a rectangular structure, now only has one wall and a hall bathroom left.
She’ll just have to see it when she gets here.
The paramedics clear Dad from having any serious injuries. He’s just a little beat up, but they said the mattress in the bathtub most likely saved his life. I can’t believe he was here, inside the house, when it all came crumbling down. The realization that I came very close to losing my dad today is almost too much to bear.
I throw my arms around him while he’s talking to Marcus and a few of the neighbors. It interrupts his story about how loud the tornado sounded as it barreled through our house, but I don’t care. Everyone watches me with those adult-like pitying expressions as I hug my dad tightly, trying like hell not to think about what would have happened if I came home and found him dead.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
Dad’s lips press into a flat line and he glances up at Marcus and a few of our neighbors who are all standing around. “We’ll figure it out,” he says. The others join in, saying it’s going to be okay. But they don’t know my dad as well as I do, so they didn’t hear the hint of desperation in Ben Lockhart’s voice.
But I did. We’re screwed.
I can feel hot tears welling up in my eyes and now that all of the worry over my dad’s injuries is gone, it’s like the whole house problem weighs a thousand pounds more. I walk back up the sidewalk, to where our front door used to be. Our back yard is now an oasis of broken bricks and wood. I even see a DVD case shoved into the grass at the back of the yard. The wooden fence that separates our yard from Ethan’s is knocked over, and our patio table and chairs are in their pool.
I grimace and turn away. I hate Ethan’s pool. There’s too many painful memories over there. I decide right now that rebuilding the fence should be our first priority. I’ll sleep in a pile of rubble before I have to see Ethan’s backyard all day.
The next hour is a surreal blur. News crews stop by and film Dad, who gives a regaling tale of what it was like to be woken up from a nap to the sound of sirens and the whistle of an approaching tornado. I stand off to the side, arms crossed as I lean against my car. I don’t want to be in the video, another sad girl in the aftermath of a tragedy. Neighbors filter in and out, people from blocks away suddenly deciding to drive through our street to get a good look at the insanity. I really hate people like that, the kind of people who will cause a wreck themselves just to get a peek at someone lying dead on the road after a collision. Ugh.