And then the sky explode.., p.4
And Then the Sky Exploded, page 4
“I need to ask you something,” I told Carson while we were sitting in the Cavalier after school, waiting for the Repp twins who were catching a ride home.
“Can’t,” Carson said.
“Why?”
“I’m not your therapist.” Carson grinned at me.
“Shut up,” I said.
“Okay, ask me.”
I told him about Zaina and how I’d acted like a total loser with her and I couldn’t figure out why.
“Maybe you’re a closet racist.”
“That isn’t funny,” I told him.
“I’m not trying to be funny. How many girls from other races have you gone out with?”
“That isn’t a fair question. I’ve gone out with three girls in total … and that’s only if you count my cousin, which you can’t because our mothers arranged that for her birthday and the whole day sucked. So really only two.”
Carson shrugged.
“Besides I hang out with you, don’t I?” I said.
“Doesn’t count. Deaf isn’t a race.”
“I like Zaina. I guess I was just surprised that she asked me out.”
“Plus you were drinking in Julie’s movie-star beauty right at that moment.”
“Drinking in?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, well, maybe. Thing is I feel really crappy about the way I treated Zaina. And if I go back to her now and say yeah, I’d love to go to the Japanese film at the Variety with you, she’ll probably think I’m feeling sorry for her and hate me even more.”
“You know what you need?”
I looked at him.
“A real therapist. You’re a mess.”
I would have argued the point but just then Riley and Jonathon Repp, climbed in the car and the conversation turned to where we should stop for fries on the way home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day was Tuesday, which meant the second meeting of the Travel Club.
The first thing I noticed was that there weren’t as many kids at this meeting. No surprise there — there would always be a few who would come to the first meeting just to check it out, just like Mr. Pettigrew said. Then they’d go home and mention to their parents that “hey we need to fund raise a coupla thou for me to go on a trip with the kids from school” … and that would be the end of it.
Some parents didn’t have the money or the will to help fundraise or even give the kid the moral support to make the thing happen.
Those kids weren’t at the second meeting of the Travel Club.
Unfortunately, Lorelei Faber wasn’t one of those kids. Fabers were big money people — real estate or something — and they could probably afford to send Lorelei on a trip every week. And probably wanted to if her personality at home was anything like at school.
The other thing I noticed which I missed at the first meeting was that Zaina was there. Maybe she wasn’t at the first meeting or maybe she was and I didn’t see her, I wasn’t sure.
I smiled at her and she smiled back and looked like she meant it which made me feel a little better.
The meeting began and the first item of business was to choose an executive for the club. Mr. Pettigrew figured all we needed was a president, vice-president, and secretary-treasurer. There were a few minutes of people looking around the room at everybody else, trying to decide who might do a good job in those positions.
Devonne Chelf was voted in as president, which I thought was an excellent choice. Then Devonne nominated me for vice-president and when no one else was nominated, I got the job. Which I was okay with. For about five minutes.
Then someone with an obviously twisted sense of humour nominated Lorelei for secretary-treasurer. Just kill me now.
But then someone else nominated Zaina, which meant an actual election. Zaina and Lorelei left the room during the vote. As they were heading out the door, Lorelei turned and grinned at everybody, her look saying no way this chick beats the amazing Lorelei Faber for this job.
As creepy and evil as Lorelei was, she had a fair number of friends in the school. Or at least people who pretended to be her friends. More like followers. I guess there are always going to be people who figure hanging with the bully is better than being bullied.
The vote was close. But Zaina got eleven votes and Lorelei got nine. I almost did the leap in the air and a big “yeah,” but I decided a vice-president should act a little more dignified. I stayed in my seat and had a little private inner-celebration.
Lorelei had the same grin on her face when she came back in the room — figuring, no doubt, on a landslide victory. Much as I wanted to, I didn’t look at her when Mr. Pettigrew announced the result of the election, but I heard a noise from the area where Lorelei was sitting that sounded like a cross behind a gasp and a word that doesn’t get used a lot at the dinner table.
Mr. Pettigrew ignored the noise and welcomed the new executive. “Before I turn the meeting over to our new president, I do have some news,” he said. “I made a few calls and there’s a program through the Japanese embassy that helps with the costs of school travel to that country.
“There has been a decline in tourism since the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear accident at Fukushima in March of 2011. As a result, the Japanese government is spending some money to help restore tourism, including school field trips. It looks like we can get in on this funding, which would actually make it a little cheaper to go to Japan than it would to go to the other two destinations on our short list. So that’s something you may want to think about as you make your decision.”
Devonne strode to the front of the class and asked if there was any discussion on the destination for the trip. Lorelei’s hand shot up.
“I did some reading on this whole Japan deal and there’s, like, radiation and everything and we could all go over there and get cancer and, like, die.”
A couple of kids snickered. Because Lorelei, in addition to being a bully, was also a drama queen.
But Mr. Pettigrew, who was now sitting in one of the student desks raised his hand and Devonne recognized him. Mr. Pettigrew stood up and faced the class.
“Lorelei has a point and it’s something we should probably do some more investigating about before making a final decision. How about if your vice-president, who first suggested Japan as a possible destination, and I prepare a report for the next meeting? Are you okay with that, Chris?”
I nodded and Devonne asked for a motion. It was passed that Mr. Pettigrew and I would be a sub-committee to report on the safety of a trip to Japan.
Then we got into a discussion of fundraising ideas and left it that people would bring their ideas to the next meeting.
When the meeting ended Lorelei bolted out the door like her Reeboks were on fire. Loser syndrome. Mr. Pettigrew asked me to stay back for a couple of minutes to decide on a time for us to get together and start researching for our report.
“I hope you didn’t mind my volunteering you for this,” he said, smiling at me.
I shook my head. “I like this kind of stuff. I’ll go online tonight and see what I can find out.”
He nodded. “Great. How about we meet next Monday at noon in my room and we’ll see where we’re at?”
“Okay, sure,” I said.
As I was leaving Mr. Pettigrew’s room, I noticed Zaina a little way down the hall but when she saw me she turned and started walking the other way.
“Zaina,” I called.
She stopped and turned back to face me. I tried to guess what she was thinking, but her face was sort of neutral — not mad but not totally friendly, either.
I slow-jogged over to where she was standing.
“Uh … listen … I wanted to say I’m … uh … really sorry about how I acted the other day. I guess I was just sort of surprised that you asked me to the movie and I … was … really … stupid. I mean I even lied about the grandma thing and I don’t know why. Anyway I really am sorry.”
She looked at me for a few seconds and a little smile formed at the corners of her mouth. Which, by the way, was a very nice mouth.
“It’s okay, I understand … I guess.”
“No, you don’t. And you shouldn’t … I was a jerk. Thing is I’d really like to go to that film with you if it’s not too late. But if you’ve made other … uh … plans or whatever, I totally get —”
She shook her head. “I was going to go by myself.”
“Well, that would be unfortunate,” I said. “And unnecessary. Especially when you could have the vice-president of the Travel Club sitting next to you. VPs are a very big deal, you know. These opportunities don’t come along every day.” I grinned at her.
“No, I’m sure they don’t.” Her smile was bigger then and when we’d exchanged phone numbers and headed off in opposite directions down the hall a couple of minutes later I was all o/.
August 6, 1945
When Yuko woke for the second time the pain was still there … still terrible. But her vision had returned, at least partially. Things were blurry but she could make out objects and shapes around her.
Except there was something wrong. None of the shapes made any sense. She was facing the street in front of her home; she was sure of that. Yes, there … there was the karatachi tree that was her mother’s favourite. Except it was at an angle now, tipped over so far that the roots were showing on one side. And all of the small orange fruit and white flowers that had been on it yesterday — were gone. The branches were broken and twisted and bare. Still, that was the tree. And this had to be the street Yuko had walked down every almost every day of her life.
But there was nothing left — it was all rubble. The houses were gone. She was confused. It was as if she and her classmates had come along and torn down all the houses. But that was silly.
Besides these houses weren’t just taken apart — they were piles of wood chunks, sawdust, and bits of twisted metal, all blackened, like ashes. They were … nothing.
What had happened?
She remembered the flash. It had to be that. The Americans had dropped their bombs. The whispered rumours that had been going on for weeks were true. The air attack they had dreaded but expected had come.
Yuko didn’t know that there had been only one bomb. One great and terrible bomb that no one, not even its creators, knew for sure how powerful and incredibly destructive it could be.
It would be some time before the people of Hiroshima realized that what had struck their city that morning was one bomb only. And even then they didn’t understand it. How could one weapon do all this?
If only I could move, Yuko thought. But she could move. She could turn her head and was able to lift her left arm. Her right arm was underneath her and because she was trapped, and therefore could not move her body, she was unable to do much more than look around and use her one free hand to wipe the water away from her face and eyes.
Except it wasn’t water. It was sticky, thick, and warm. It felt like jelly. But how could that be? How could there be jelly all over her head?
And there was still the pain. So much pain. It felt as if someone had pulled all her hair out at once and left her skull open all around it.
She touched her head again. And realized that in a way she was right. She couldn’t feel hair. There was no hair. It was all gone and had been replaced by whatever the jelly substance was.
Yuko tried her voice again and this time it worked a little better. She could speak, though not loud enough to yell or even cry out. But she could at least speak.
Not that there was anyone to speak to. There was no one around. No one. She wondered again what had happened to her mother and her brother. But if all the houses in the street had been destroyed, then what about her own house? Maybe that’s what happened — maybe her house had been shattered like all the others and she was in what was left of it.
Trapped beneath the rubble.
Panic gripped her like the cold on a winter day. What if no one came to help her? What if there was no one to help her?
She would die if she couldn’t get out of where she was. She knew that. She would starve or die of thirst or …
Yuko forced herself not to think of those things. Yet she knew that it was possible that no one would come. She had to try to get herself free.
She tried to twist around to see what was on top of her, what was holding her so cruelly in this unbearable trap. But she couldn’t twist.
She tried to move her legs. She was able to wiggle her toes and she could slide one leg back and forth a little and even bend her knee.
One leg and one arm, how could that be enough to get her free of whatever was holding her down? Like a butterfly pinned on a board. She’d seen that once. Someone … she couldn’t think who … had a board like that.
She forced herself to put aside thoughts that could not help her get free. Even forced herself not to think of the unbearable thirst she was feeling, of the need for water. Just a little water.
But then Yuko was aware of something else. A sound. A smell. She strained as hard as she could to move her head in the other direction and finally got her head turned. Looking now not at the street in front of her, but back the other way. Toward the park she had played in so many times. And beyond that the Shinto temple that she loved to visit with her family.
But what she saw was not the park or the temple. What she saw terrified Yuko more than everything that had happened so far.
A wall of flame, a few blocks away perhaps, but surely and steadily moving.
Moving toward her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Things were going okay. Actually better than okay.
Zaina and I had a great time at the movie — it was a comedy about this married couple who live in Tokyo and pretty much hate each other until one day the wife is travelling in the subway and the train breaks down and she gets out of the train and decides to walk to safety. Of course, she gets lost and the whole time she’s down there she’s sending texts to her husband and at first they’re all I hate you, you giant bag of squid brains, and the more lost she gets the more she realizes she still loves the guy and by the end the texts are all, I love you to death, you lovely bowl of chilled tofu. Except that the husband only receives the early texts — the squid brains ones.
I know it sounds kind of dumb but it was actually really funny and there were some great scenes of Tokyo (not just in the subway tunnels). It made me want to see Japan even more.
At the end of the evening, Zaina called me a lovely bowl of chilled tofu and we laughed.
“By the way,” I said, “I didn’t think of it when we made our date the other day … I mean sort of date … but anyway, today’s my birthday.”
Which it was, but the only people who had acknowledged it were my parents, my sister, and Carson. Mom and Dad got me a Russell Wilson jersey … not bad. My sister gave me a card that she forgot to sign and told me she couldn’t believe someone as grotesque as me could have lived this long. And Carson gave me a certificate he’d made up that said I’d get a free chauffeur-driven ride to the destination of my choice if I ever actually had a date.
I didn’t bother to tell him that I had a date for later that evening. I decided I’d tell him about it after it happened and if it turned out okay.
“I wish I’d known about your birthday.” Zaina smiled. “I could have at least paid for the popcorn or something.”
“You did pay for the popcorn,” I reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, how about this, then?”
And she leaned in and kissed me. Just kind of a peck on the lips. So I kissed her back. Not a peck, but nothing too over the top, either.
I don’t know why I did that. I liked her okay, but there was still Julie Lapointe out there just waiting for me to make my move. Yeah, right.
Anyway Zaina didn’t seem to mind that I kissed her and I kind of liked it myself. In fact, it was probably the highlight of my fourteenth birthday. Which is saying something because I’m a huge Russell Wilson fan.
The noon meeting with Mr. Pettigrew went pretty well. We’d both done a lot of research and while there was no one-hundred-percent guarantee that we wouldn’t encounter some hot spot of radiation, the truth was Hiroshima was pretty safe from radiation (ironic, huh?) because of its distance from Fukoshima.
And it looked like we could definitely get some funding help from the Japanese government that would help a lot.
“We’ll have to take it to the school administration and the Parents Council for approval before we can do anything,” Mr. Pettigrew told me.
“How tough do you think that will be?”
“Funny you should ask.” Mr. Pettigrew grinned at me. “The vice-chair on the Parents Council is Margaret Faber.”
I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open. “As in Lorelei’s …?”
Mr. Pettigrew nodded. “Mom, yeah.”
“Crap,” I said.
“Well, she’s only one vote, so let’s not panic just yet. Besides the Travel Club hasn’t even decided for sure that Japan’s the destination.”
“That’s true.”
“Okay, I’ve got supervision, Chris. You’re welcome to finish your lunch in here. Just close the door when you go out.”
“Thanks.” I nodded and had my sandwiches spread out in front of me and Moby Dick open to page 170 before Mr. Pettigrew was out the door. I had to read fourteen pages for English, Period 6.
I watched as Margaret Faber rose from her chair. If I ever decide to create a piece of art that depicts the term “old bag” it will be as close as I can come to Mrs. Faber getting up out of that chair.
