“Nice!” I wrote down six more differences they provided and capped the red marker before picking up a third version of the fairy tale. “We are going to dive into a new one today. Who’s excited?”
Choruses of me’s echoed around the room, and my heart grew two sizes in my chest. This was why I did what I did. This passion and energy fueled my soul, and I wanted to hug them all. I refrained, as it would be weird and we didn’t have time, but the thought remained as we read through the story. This version was my favorite because the illustrations were vivid. We got all the way through before a low-pitch noise sounded outside the school.
It was a sound from my nightmares, and my pulse pounded in my throat, making it difficult to speak. It wasn’t even tornado season, but there was a cold front coming in, and it wasn’t unheard of to have a strong storm in August. I glanced out the window and sucked in a breath at how dark it was for midday.Damn.“O-Okay class, that is the tornado siren. Did you ever have a tornado drill last year in kindergarten?”
“Tornaydough? Like play dough?”
“No.” I put a hand over my chest and willed my heart to settle down. We had to act. This wasn’t a drill—those were on Tuesday mornings. “Everyone, grab a book from your desk and get into your recess line.”
They all jumped up and followed the directions, and I smiled through my own fear. Tornadoes scared the shit out of me, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide my trembling. There was a reason they’d named it Tornado Alley.
“We are going to go outside the classroom and line up against the wall and sit crisscross, okay? Once you sit crisscross, you’re going to cover your head with the book.”
They nodded.
One girl started crying, and I took her hand. “It’s okay, Maureen. We are very safe.”
“My brother says tornados eat people.”
“They are dangerous, but they do not eat people.” I squeezed her hand and led us out into the hallway, catching Maggie’s eye across the way.
She looked grim, and a bright flash lit up the entire hallway as a terrifying loud boom of thunder followed. The windows at the end of the hall shook just a little bit, and I swallowed hard.
Shit.
“Okay, kiddos, keep going. Sit down like we practiced, okay?” I said, hating how my voice trembled. The last kid left the room, and I shut the door. If we were to get hit, the classrooms were lined with windows, and the thought of all the glass had my blood turning to ice. I gulped and slid onto the floor in front of the door, hearing the siren continue on an endless loop to let our county know a tornado was spotted.
It could be heading right for us. It could destroy the building and us in it. I swallowed hard as sweat dripped down my forehead, and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my rugby shirt. My hand shook, and I crossed my arms, hoping to hide it. The kids would freak out if they saw me worried, and Ihadto hide my fear better.
“You seem pale.”
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it was Christopher. “Didn’t get a lot of sun this summer.”
“No. You’re flushed.” His voice got closer, and he sat on the ground next to me, our shoulders not quite touching together, but his body heat radiated toward me along with that damn cologne. “Gilly, open your eyes and take a deep breath.”
I did, but only to check on the class, not to placate him. His face was inches from mine, and his unfairly long lashes danced across his cheek when he blinked. Beautiful bastard that he was, he had nice features. “Do you…have you heard…the storm?” I asked, willing the buzzing sound in my ears to go away.
“It’s about ten miles southwest of here. We won’t get hit unless the storm goes against nature and backtracks.”
“Can that happen?”
“Not usually.” He pulled up his phone and showed me the radar. “We’re here. The tornado has already passed us, but it’s still in the county so the alarms go off.”
I sank into the brick wall and swore my legs turned to pure jelly in relief. “Grood. Good. Great. I meant great.”
Christopher’s face didn’t look as mean and unhappy as it normally did, and a small part of me grieved the chance we would never have to be friends. Thankfully, a kid pulled my attention away from him, and I sent a small prayer for that. Thomas started crying, and I had him move to sit next to me. “Why are you sad, Thomas?”
“My dog is outside at home. He gets scared. What if he’s wet?”
“Dogs love getting wet. Have you seen a dog swim before? They are so happy.” I patted his hand. “Is there a tree or a cover in the backyard?”
“He has a doggy house.”
“Oh, then he’ll be totally safe!” I assured him. “Doggy houses are the best. They block the rain and wind. I bet he’s cuddled up in there, smiling at the rain.”
“And the tornado won’t eat him?”
Ugh, my heart. That damn Maureen sharing that lie. “Nope. The tornado missed us so we’ll be safe.”
