We heard the boys running and knocking into the vending machine, tipping it up and then letting it rock back down. Then uproarious laughter.
I had a gulp feeling, as if I’d been caught smoking by my parents. I stepped in front of Levi to block his way into the cafeteria. “Don’t look” was all I could think to say. Levi groaned and I tried to pull him down the hallway. “Forget them.”
He gently eased me aside.
The boys didn’t hear him come in. It wasn’t until Levi flipped on the lights that they looked over. Jesse said, “What’s up, Hamrick! You hungry?” And then they went right back to wrestling with the vending machine. Now Zito and another guy were rocking it hard from side to side.
Levi folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to stop them, but he didn’t have any authority.
I think Jesse probably realized that too, because he didn’t seem to care. After a few more aggressive shakes, he ran off and came back with one of the cafeteria chairs. It was a plastic shell with four metal legs. He pushed the guys out of the way. “Here, we can use this to pry it open.” He looked up at Levi and grinned. “No use letting these snacks go to waste.”
I couldn’t breathe. I stayed in the hallway, peeking just around the doorframe to watch but not be seen. With equal parts of my heart, I wished Jesse would stop, and I wished Levi would walk away.
Neither happened.
The door of the vending machine suddenly popped open, and you could tell by the sound that something inside it had broken. And the glass was now completely spiderwebbed with cracks. The guys really thought that was hilarious.
Jesse reached in, pulled out a handful of packets of Pop-Tarts from the coils, and flipped through them like a pack of cards. “Strawberry, strawberry, blueberry,” he rattled off, tossing the ones he didn’t want over his shoulder and onto the floor. “Oh yeah! Brown Sugar Cinnamon!” He tore into the wrapper with his teeth and spit the paper out. The rest of the boys grabbed for their own snacks.
I think Jesse was confused as to why Levi was still standing there, silently watching. “Sorry, man. I’m definitely calling dibs on Brown Sugar Cinnamon. But you can have any of the strawberry ones.”
“I don’t get it,” Levi finally said. “You’re out there marching on City Hall because you supposedly love this town so much, and today, you’re breaking school property for laughs.”
Jesse’s smile faded. He cocked his head to the side. “Come on, dude. We’re just fooling around.”
I wanted to explain what I knew Jesse wouldn’t. Or maybe even couldn’t. That it was easier to shoot a stupid video, or plan a secret prom, than it was to think about what was really happening around us. I’m not saying what Jesse was doing was right. But I understood it.
Jesse saw me standing by the door. He seemed a little surprised, maybe because I hadn’t made myself known. “Keeley! What do you want? Granola bar? Pretzel bites?”
Levi turned around. He wanted to see what I would say.
I tried to lighten the mood. “I can’t even remember how many times this stupid thing cheated me over the years. I bet it seriously owes me thirty bucks’ worth of snacks.” I put my hand on Levi’s back as I walked past him. “Go ahead. Have a Pop-Tart. It’s on me.” And then, to Jesse, I said, “You are crazy. Frosted Strawberry Pop-Tarts are the best Pop-Tarts.” I leaned over and started picking them up off the floor. Along with the other wrappers and things that the guys had left there.
Jesse came over and grabbed me around the waist, lifting me up in his arms. “That’s insane. Brown Sugar Cinnamon is like a cousin of Cinnabon. Frosted Strawberry is . . . practically healthy.”
As Jesse and I continued to debate Pop-Tart flavors, Levi turned and walked out.
I ran to him, though I had to wriggle out of Jesse’s arms to do it. “Hey. Wait. You never told me why were you looking for me.” And then I whispered, “And I’ll make them clean up. Don’t worry.”
Levi turned around. “It’s not about that.” He shrugged. “I wanted to give you the heads-up that the governor came into town this morning. He’s making a big speech about the dam at the old mill building.”
“What?” I whipped around. Jesse must have heard the shift in my voice, because he dropped what he was doing and hustled over. “When?”
Levi glanced at the clock behind me. “Now, probably. Like I said, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” It was that annoyed big brother tone he sometimes used with me.
Jesse had his car keys already out. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Great. Now you two are cutting class?”
Jesse groaned, “Grow a pair, dude.”
• • •
I tried calling my dad the entire drive over, but his phone went straight to voice mail. “Maybe this is a good announcement. Like, they’re calling off the whole dam.” Even as I said it, I knew how crazy it sounded.
Jesse leaned forward and looked at the sky though his windshield. “Maybe Ward gets struck by lightning. How awesome would that be?”
He was trying to make it better, I knew it. So I forced myself to laugh, even though I felt like I could puke.
The roads around the mill were blocked off to traffic. We ended up ditching Jesse’s hatchback and running a few blocks to get there.
There, in the parking lot where we’d had the Slip ’N Slide party a little more than a week ago, stood Governor Ward. A low stage had been set up, with a podium and a microphone and a mound of ceremonial dirt. Someone to Ward’s left passed him a fancy shovel with a beautifully oiled wooden handle and a brass blade that was as shiny as a trumpet horn. There weren’t many people out here to see him besides a few who looked like they worked for the state in some capacity, drab suits, skirts and blazers, sensible shoes. Them and the press.
In the distance, I heard chanting. It had to be Dad.
As I followed their voices, I passed the reporter Shawn Wilcox. He was speaking into the camera. “We’re coming to you live from Aberdeen, where we are awaiting a speech from Governor Ward regarding the Aberdeen Dam Project.”
There was a little applause as the governor stepped forward. “Today, I am proud to announce that we are officially breaking ground on what will be the future home of Lake Aberdeen. In a matter of weeks, we’ve rewritten an environmental disaster into a story of conservation and preservation. Aided by our government, we signed very generous relocation deals with Aberdeen residents every single day. And, most importantly, we’ve begun taking the necessary steps to ensure that our river will safely flow through this commonwealth for many more generations to come.” More applause. He lifted up his shovel.
Shawn Wilcox raised his microphone and shouted, “What do you say to the Reservoir Resistance protesters currently blocking the dump trucks from reaching the river? Do you feel you’ve provided them the answers they’ve asked for?”
Governor Ward paused. Then he waved a hand dismissively. “Of course, there are always people out there who want to exploit progress, capitalize on others’ misfortune, turn a profit from a tragedy. Let me be clear to the remaining landowners who are holding out. I cannot allow your greed to put any citizens at risk for their lives and well-being. Part of why we must begin construction now is because the river typically reaches its lowest levels during the summer months, and that will provide us with the safest conditions for our workers. So we will continue in good faith, until we reach a point where stronger measures will have to be taken.” He lifted his shovel again, scooped up a little dirt, and then let it slide off his shovel back onto the pile.
I spun around to look for Jesse. I’d lost sight of him in the crowd. But then I heard him scream out at the top of his lungs, “That’s a fake hole! He’s digging a fake hole, everyone!”
A few of the reporters chuckled. Governor Ward turned beet red.
I raced over to Jesse and pointed toward the driveway leading into the mill parking lot. The bulldozers I’d seen last night with Morgan were parked in a very long line along the road. Each one ha
d a bored-looking driver inside, waiting, their diesel engines idling. Several other police officers were standing around, watching. And blocking them from entering was a human barrier, three or four people wide, several people deep, arms linked.
As we got closer, the chanting got louder.
“Damn the dam! Damn the dam! Damn the dam!”
It wasn’t nearly as many people as had been at the rally, but I had to figure that was the point of Governor Ward calling his press conference out of the blue. He was hoping to catch my dad and his supporters flat-footed. Thank God he hadn’t. Dad stood in the very front line of defense, my mom with him.
The sky was darkening. Though the wind was picking up, the sight warmed my heart.
“Dad!”
“Kee!” He hugged me. “How’d you find out?”
“A friend in school.”
“Good. Word is spreading. Hopefully more people will make their way down. We’ve got Charlie and Sy over there making calls, telling folks to be here as quick as possible.”
I turned to Jesse. “Is your mom around? Do you think she could come down?”
I saw him bite the inside of his cheek. “Um, I’m pretty sure she’s working.”
Dad was overjoyed. “They tried to pull a fast one on us, but Ward wasn’t fast enough!”
“How did you find out, Dad?”
“Me,” said Mrs. Dorsey, stepping forward. “One of my clients said she saw something going on down by the mills. I called your dad, told him he might want to check it out.” I grabbed Mrs. Dorsey around the middle and hugged her tight.
Mom came over. “Keeley, why aren’t you at school?”
“Because I want to be here supporting Dad.”
She wasn’t happy with that answer.
Shawn Wilcox, the reporter, came toward us. “Jim, this is terrific. Let me get you on camera answering a few questions, and then I’ll take some video of you all standing here, okay?”
Dad nodded. “Let’s do it.” And Jesse and I quickly added ourselves to the human chain.
Shawn Wilcox pushed a hand through his hair. “Great. In three . . . two . . . And now I am with Jim Hewitt, leader of the Reservoir Resistance. What do you have to say about the governor’s speech today? Any response to his charge that your movement is putting citizens at risk?”
“Well, obviously we disagree with that.” Dad had to say it loud, because of the idling diesel engines puttering nearby. It looked like he was searching for more to say, but then he nodded for the next question.
“Do you believe it’s safe to stay in Aberdeen with what scientists are now reporting about the instability of the land due to deforestation that occurred during the mill’s heyday?”
Dad looked a little stunned at the pointed way he was being asked these questions. “Look, we want to know that Governor Ward has explored his other options before demolishing our homes. That’s all we’ve asked for from the very beginning. And his office refuses to comment. What does that tell you?”
“Actually, the governor’s office released findings today.” Shawn Wilcox handed Dad a stack of paper, which Dad began to flip through. “Do you believe it’s fair to ask the state to spend double the amount of money on this project to keep you in your home, when the residents of Aberdeen contribute the lowest tax income in the state?”
All the muscles in my stomach twisted up into one awful knot. Behind me, Jesse said, “Jeez.”
My dad struggled for an answer. “I’m not going to comment on that until I’ve had a chance to go through this.”
“So what’s your plan now? Block the roads until you get an audience with the governor?”
“Yes. We’ll have people standing here day and night until—”
At that there was a loud thunder crack and the air sizzled with electricity.
The wind kicked up and my hair whipped my cheeks.
Dad leaned in closer to the microphone and started over. “We will block this road until someone—”
After a flash of lightning, the rain came pouring down in buckets and buckets. Everyone around ran for cover. Jesse grabbed ahold of me. “Come on, Keeley.” But I pulled free.
“It’s just rain!” Dad shouted. “Hold your positions!”
Dad tried to stand his ground, but the rain was driving sideways. After another crack of thunder, Mom rushed to his side and tried to pull him.
He shrugged free.
I know he didn’t do it on purpose. It was 1,000 percent an accident. But Mom fell backward, her feet slipping out from under her. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, flat on her back, and it sent up a plume of muddy puddle water. She didn’t move for a second, the rain pelting her face.
Dad wasn’t even aware that she’d fallen. Not until he heard me scream out for her. Then he turned around and was shocked at what he’d done. The guys who worked with him on the repairs, Sy and the older guys, gave Dad stern looks. He shuffled forward to help Mom up, but it was too late. Mrs. Dorsey and I were already at her side. Mrs. Dorsey looked mad, madder than the time Morgan and I went through her underwear drawer and she found us dressed up in her sexy pajamas. Mrs. Dorsey tried to help Mom to her feet, but Mom refused to take her hand. Mine too.
“I’m fine, everyone. I’m fine,” Mom said. But I could tell, when she finally did get to her feet, that she was standing stiffly, and she was trying to keep weight off her left leg.
Dad wasn’t even looking at her. He was watching the dump trucks roll through the gates.
Shawn pulled his KPBC-issued windbreaker up over his head and said, “Let’s go,” to his cameraman. “We got enough.”
Jesse and I didn’t say anything to each other on our walk back to his car. Or the first few blocks that he drove. It wasn’t until I saw him making a turn up the hill that I said, “Just take me back to school.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to go home. “I’m supposed to work with Levi.”
Jesse kept his eyes on the road. “Who cares about that? You know, you should quit that job. Especially now.”
I knew what he meant. Especially now that things weren’t looking good for Aberdeen.
27
* * *
Tuesday, May 24
Rain tapering off by early evening, muggy, 66°F
* * *
I immediately regretted coming to work, because Levi was clearly still pissed off about what had happened between him and Jesse in the cafeteria. Normally, anytime we hit a downhill, Levi would stop pedaling his bike and let us coast. But that day, he pedaled every downhill, like he was trying to sweat the anger out.
I wasn’t in the best mood either, for obvious reasons.
My phone rang twice but I didn’t answer it either time. It was Morgan. I wanted to talk to her badly, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t in front of Levi. Anyway, she’d probably already gotten the story firsthand from Mrs. Dorsey. I imagined them sitting at their kitchen table gossiping, just like the night after Spring Formal. They had to know it was just an accident. Dad would never, ever lay a hand on my mom. But I also knew how it probably looked. Bad.
So until I knew exactly how to spin it, I was sending her to my voice mail.
Levi stopped his bike at the blinking red light on Main Street and set his feet down.
I said, “You realize you aren’t a car, right?” When he didn’t answer, I mumbled, “No, of course you do. Because if you were a car, you’d run this light like everyone else in town does.”
“It’s the law.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
I waited for him to start pedaling again, but he didn’t. We stayed stopped in the middle of the road.
“So you and Jesse Ford . . . are what? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. Sort of.”
“I thought he was dating Victoria Dunkle.”
I hadn’t really thought about Victoria since kissing Jesse at his Slip ’N Slide party. And I liked it that way. So I said, sharply, “They were never dating.”
/> “But weren’t they together at Spring Formal? When I found you—” Levi stopped himself. He knew better now. “They were in the hallway together that night.”
“Sure. They were in the hallway together. But that doesn’t mean they were together together.” I bounced my weight up and down on his pegs. “Anyway, she doesn’t live here anymore, so . . .”
“So you’re together, then,” he said, pushing.
“Levi, I don’t know, okay? We’re just having fun. You should try it sometime.”
“Fun like breaking a vending machine? Yeah, count me out.”
That started him pedaling again.
• • •
Levi skidded to a stop in front of the Aberdeen Cemetery gates.
It was a relatively small graveyard, barely bigger than a football field, surrounded by a low iron fence and a slack chain that hung across the driveway. I hopped off Levi’s bike and unhooked the chain so we could ride in.
Most of the headstones in the back of the cemetery were recent graves, but the ones you could see from the road were old white rectangles shaped like front teeth, jutting out of the overgrown grass at odd angles.
Levi pointed to a cottage. “That’s the old caretaker’s house. It’s been abandoned for a while, so it should be quick.” He made some notes on his clipboard as I climbed back onto his pegs. This was the address we’d skipped a few times already.
As we pedaled in, I saw HEWITT etched into stone again and again and again. These were my relatives. Some were a hundred and fifty years, two hundred years gone before I was born. I think I’d heard a story about each one of them, though, from my grandpa. He was the only relative I knew in this graveyard, only he didn’t have a gravestone. On his deathbed, Grandpa had asked Dad to scatter his ashes around. He wanted to spend eternity with his family, but not be cold in the ground.