“You should always be prepared,” Mayor Hershott said, which did not help ease the thoughts of the worried people in the room.
“The end is near, my fellow citizens, the end is near,” Max whispered.
“FEMA has agreed to participate. They’ve dropped off a pamphlet for each household. You can pick yours up after the meeting,” Mayor Hershott said.
Mr. Romero gasped. “A pamphlet?”
“A real nuclear blast could only improve Griffin Flat,” Max whispered in my ear, back in his normal voice.
“Please,” Mayor Hershott implored. “This is a wonderful opportunity for our town. We need to think about how we act during the filming of the movie. They’re from California; we’re going to show them southern hospitality—”
“Southern hospitality, but leave your white robes at home,” Max whispered again.
By now the crowd was murmuring so loudly that the mayor had to slam his fist on the lectern. “Hollywood knows what it’s doing!” the mayor cried.
Everyone fell silent.
But that was all. Mayor Hershott had nothing more to add. Meeting adjourned.
Chapter Ten
Monday afternoon I was sitting in chemistry doing worksheets. I was proud of my life choice of pulling the safety shower string. Mr. Truitt was pulling out his hair trying to make sure he didn’t get a talking-to by the athletic director. Max, the only other person in class with a decent passing grade, was paired up with Rodney. Like I’d been a few days ago. And like always, Max was doing all the work.
“Did you see the Hog game on Saturday? It was def,” Rodney said, trying to make small talk while watching Max do the experiment.
“Excuse me?” Max said. “I can’t hear you…”
Rodney sniffed. “Def. DEF.”
Max shook his head, biting his lip to keep from smiling. “I have a hearing problem.”
“What?”
I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. Max, you jerk. Mr. Truitt flinched at the outburst. He pointed at the door and sent me straight back to the principal’s office. Wonderful. I was being treated just like Victory—our main character’s name in Big Sister. Maybe that’s what Max had intended all along.
“Ms. Ratliff,” Principal Parker said, standing at his office door.
Oh crap. The Ms. Ratliff. That was as bad as the “Laura Beth” I got at home.
The chair in front of Principal Parker’s desk was still warm from the butt before. Kevin Barnes decided at lunch to not go out to the smokers’ corner. Instead, half the school watched as he lit one up right at the table over his tater tots. I could still smell the stale cigarette smoke and fried potatoes.
“Why are you here again?” Principal Parker asked. My permanent file on his desk.
“I laughed at a joke in Mr. Truitt’s class.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Mr. Truitt didn’t think it was funny enough to laugh at.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But it was Max—”
“Stop right there.”
Max had a reputation.
Principal Parker took a deep breath. “I get it, I really do, but you have to show respect to the teachers. We’re not here to test your intelligence.”
I blinked at him. “Then what are you here to test for?” I asked.
“Honestly?” he muttered. “Start with my patience.”
I made it back to class just in time for the school sirens to go off. It was a drill—another drill.
We made our way into the hallway and sat in front of the lockers. Terrence sat beside me, and Rodney was on the other side. Max was across the hall making faces. Not exactly following the rules, but certainly testing Principal Parker’s patience, had he been there.
“Chuck, sit down now,” Coach Brooks shouted.
We all cringed, waiting for him to blow his whistle.
Coach Brooks was the assistant varsity football coach and civics teacher. He wore his whistle everywhere he went. I once saw him at an afternoon showing of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.[35] He blew the whistle when two adults started having a conversation during the scene when Elliot thought that E.T. had died.
Sure enough, there it was: a piercing screech.
“Coach, I can’t,” Chuck groaned. He stood against the cold metal of his locker with Dana and Kathy. They supported him as if they were adoring cheerleaders without brains, which they were. But they also had a reason to support him: Chuck had a broken leg.
“Chuck, get your ass down now before a nuke takes you out,” Coach Brooks yelled.
In case of nuclear attack, I’d decided I wanted the pointy end of the bomb to fall right above my head—I’d be skeletonized.
Chuck shook his head. “Coach, listen, it hurts. I won’t be able to get back up.”
Dana’s and Kathy’s indignation on Chuck’s behalf was too much for them to bear. They ran down the hall. Coach Brooks wasn’t happy. He called out their names but once he saw Chuck sliding down the lockers and falling to the floor, he smiled and spat his whistle from his mouth. He knew that Dana and Kathy had made the right decision. Chuck lay flat on the floor, turned on his stomach. His head in the middle of the hallway. His leg touching the wall.
His face was creased in agony as he writhed on the cold linoleum. He wasn’t faking. I felt bad for him. “Cover your head now, Chuck,” Coach Brooks ordered, and Chuck obeyed, even though he was in DefCon 1[36] in pain.
“You’re all going to die—so kiss your asses goodbye,” Chuck said.
Is this appropriate? I wondered. I would have asked it out loud if another teacher had been present. Where was Principal Parker during these drills?
The sirens seemed to go on longer than usual. I felt queasy. Like something was looming on the horizon. And it wasn’t good. It could be Thanksgiving—in three days—with just Mom and Dennis. Terrence would be with his mom for the holiday. The sirens went on and on. These days those lilting doomsday whistles seemed to erupt more frequently—sour and out of sync and coming from every direction. I always pictured a chorus of limp-winged fallen angels, booted out of heaven for singing like crap. Stripped of their harps. Wailing for our attention while we marched toward the apocalypse. (But maybe that was because I was still bitter that Mom made me try out for chorus in ninth grade; when I didn’t pass the audition, it ruined extracurricular activities for me for good.) Still, the world continued not to end. Our butts continued to remain firmly glued to the dirty hallway floor.
And then: blessed silence.
A collective sigh of relief. We all stood. Well, all of us except for Chuck.
“Can someone help me up?” Chuck asked, raising his right arm in the air and waving his hand for anyone with strength to grab it.
I took a step forward.
“No, don’t help the dead person,” Coach Brooks commanded, laughing.
I couldn’t tell if Coach really meant what he was saying. I wasn’t sure what to do. So I froze in place, staring as Chuck clumsily tried to get himself into a standing position.
Orwell was right. All you have to do is keep people scared.
-
FEMA was created to ensure that the United States government survives a nuclear attack. In a nuclear attack, most people will be killed instantly, due to the blast, heat, or the initial radiation that follows.
This is in no way meant to frighten you; however, in a State of National Emergency declared by the President of the United States, it is best to be prepared because there will be casualties.
35
A sci-fi movie directed by Steven Spielberg. It came out in 1982. It’s basically about a boy who befriends an alien and tries to get him home before the government kills them.
36
DEFCON 5: Normal Readiness. DEFCON 4: Above Normal Readiness. DEFCON 3: Air Force Ready to Mobilize in 15 Minutes. DEFCON 2: Armed Forces Ready to Deploy and Engage in Less than 6 Hours. DEFCON 1: Maximum Readiness.