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This. This was what I was made for. I felt like I was actually glowing or vibrating, or something.
“Bless. You’re just an angel.” A woman with a cloud of white hair patted my hand as she took a blanket from me. She smiled, but I felt the tremble in her palm and sensed her fear.
It made me tingle.
I felt like some kind of weirdo. These people were here because their homes were too unsafe to stay in, or gone entirely. I saw fear and sadness on every face, felt it in my bones, and there I was, bubbling over on some kind of weird high.
What is wrong with me?
I’d felt it before I’d even reached the shelter. On the bus ride, a buzz had built in me the closer I’d got to the school and it’d been non-stop since. I wasn’t sure how many blankets I’d handed out or how many people I’d escorted into the gym, finding them a patch of ground to rest on. Any injured went straight to the hospital, but I still felt like a warrior helping out in the aftermath of a battle. Handsome heroes so far had been non-existent, sadly. I remained hopeful and kept busy. I’d listened to people’s stories of the earthquake, dragged restless children back to their parents, and helped unload the cartons of bottled water the local U-Mart trucked in. The cartons felt feather-light—I was on such a high. I’ll probably be aching tomorrow. I’d tripped over twice, my feet wanting to move faster than I could keep up with, and my hands twitched and jittered. It was probably adrenaline. Maybe I needed to take a break.
I found my way to the volunteer’s area and cracked open a bottle of water. I squeezed it too hard as I was drinking and splashed water all over my chest. Well at least it’s a perfect set up for a meet-cute. I held my breath, wishing this was the moment my hero would appear and be enamored by my clumsiness. But the only man approaching was my history teacher. I sighed and patted myself dry with paper towels.
Trevor was also the coordinator for the shelter. Any other day he was Mr. Jones, but today he insisted on being Trevor. He leaned on a bench next to me and pushed the sweat up off his forehead and back over his head, slicking graying hair away from his face.
“Thanks for all your help tonight, Olivia.” His voice came out as a long sigh. “I wish I still had a teenager’s stamina. Is this your first break? You’ve been at it for hours.”
Hours? It felt like twenty minutes, tops. My eyes popped wide. “What’s the time?”
I pulled my phone from my pocket for the first time and saw it was half past eleven. I also saw three missed calls and two texts from my mom, and a couple from my BFF Nati. I should have checked in with her. Where is my head tonight? Maybe it wasn’t me buzzing, just my phone doing its vibro-dance in my pocket.
Trevor watched me with concern as I grimaced. “Sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine, as long as my parents don’t kill me.” I tapped the screen to call them back and got nothing but failed calls. No bars meant no signal. The messages left by my parents were all from back before seven o’clock. The last bus ran at ten-thirty, and thanks to my parents’ hippy car-free household policy, last bus translated to curfew and I knew it. Especially on the evening of a mid-level natural disaster. I was going to find myself on the wrong end of a serious lecture, assuming I could find a way home.
Trevor watched my hopeless phone poking. “Phone towers have battery backups which work for a couple of hours, but in a long blackout like this they will have cut out by now.”
Even if I could get through, I had no way to get home that wasn’t going to put out the neighbors, or worse, Terry. I cringed. A ride with him in his cop car was not the way I wanted to arrive home.
Maybe I could stay in the shelter for the night. I just had to let my parents know I was here and safe.
“Sorry Mr. um... Trevor. I sort of maybe kind of missed my ride home.”
Trevor looked around the gym. Everyone was settled in, many asleep already. Even half the volunteers had curled up in a corner somewhere as the influx of new people had slowed down. “I could ask around for a lift for you, or—”
“I’m happy to stay.”
He sighed. “Yes, fine, you can stay, if you can find a spare blanket and bit of floor. Landlines are still working if you want to use the phone in the office to let your parents know. Briefly. Have to keep the line clear for official calls.”
“Do you think you could call them for me?” I hated talking on the phone. I couldn’t see people’s reactions, couldn’t tell how they were feeling and always ended up saying the wrong thing, even at the best of times. And now was far from the best of times. “It would just be better if a teacher told them, instead of me. You know, someone of authority.”
And yes, I was also dodging the lecture.
Trevor rubbed his forehead, the pen still in his hand marking it blue. He added my name to his clipboard. “Go on. I’ll call them. School’s off for the week and people are going to be here a while, so if you want to help out again tomorrow everyone would appreciate it.”
Sounded like an offer I couldn’t refuse. I nodded gratefully and he took down my number and left for the office to make the call.
I still had my phone in my hand, and voice mail was down so I checked the texts my mom had sent. The earliest must have been while I was still on the way in—Mom reminding me of the bus schedule. The next, five minutes after the first, asked me to check the boxes of new stock that had just arrived at her shop.
I’d missed the bus home and I had completely forgotten to go past her shop on the way in like I’d told her I would. I can’t believe I spaced so bad. The winner of daughter of the year? Not me.
I could still go now. Real quick, just zip out and back before anyone noticed I was gone.
Heading out onto the streets seemed a bit crazy but I really wanted to do this for Mom. Knowing her “Duck Egg Blue” home-wares boutique was okay would mean a lot to her, especially after she’d lost her owls. Her little shop wasn’t far from school. Normally a ten-minute walk, but tonight I felt like I could fly.
Another family trudged into the hall armed with pillows and suitcases, prepared to camp out with everyone else, looking sad and lost. I felt bad for them, but there were other volunteers who would help them out. I needed to check on the shop before it got any later and this adrenaline kick I was on ended and I crashed.
I waited until no-one seemed to be watching me and slipped out the gym entrance and through the school gates, and jogged down the street. The chunky heart pendant I wore thudded on my chest like a second heartbeat.
Just checking on Mom’s shop, I repeated to myself, while a deeper, quieter voice whispered of heroes and adventure and what-if.
If only I’d remembered that with adventure, comes danger.