Even with her heels, she’s shorter than me, but she can still hook her chin over my shoulder.
This is new for me—the slow dance. I’m not sure where to put my hands or who’s leading whom, so I wrap my arms around her in a hug. I hold her tight and think about all the ways Ruth has been there for me, and how she’s always expected more from me than anyone else. I wish I could be the person she thinks I’m capable of becoming. I don’t even bother wondering what she would say if I told her about Coach Pru.
It doesn’t make me sad to think of Ruthie leaving and becoming some big fancy doctor, because I know that as long as me, Saul, and Hattie are here she’ll always come back to see us. But still, there’s something about tonight that feels like the end of a good song.
The two of us sway against each other under the twinkling lights strung up by the prom committee, when all of a sudden loud sirens drown out the music.
For a moment, everyone is still and none of us quite know if this is real. And then Mrs. Treviño is on themic. “Okay, people. Those are the tornado sirens. I need everyone to vacate the banquet hall and head out into the corridor. Please find a seat on the floor and do so in an orderly but swift fashion.”
FORTY-TWO
The pilgrimage to the corridor is swift, but in no way orderly. There is screaming and shouting and pushing.
I feel my body beginning to panic.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard the sirens go off, but I’ve never been in an actual tornado. And I guess that’s why this doesn’t feel real. I know what hurricanes look like. And flooding. But a tornado sort of feels like a myth to me.
Ruth pulls me by my arm and grabs my jacket from the table where we left our cups of punch.
“Adam!” I shout, and reach for him and Sophia behind us. The good thing about being so tall is the sight advantage.
As the four of us are huddling down together on the floor in this windowless hallway, Freddie rushes in, soaking wet.
My heart nearly stops. I stand immediately and run to him.
He’s in a tux and his pants are a little too short, but he’s holding his cell phone and his keys and he’s panting.
“You’re here,” I say, like he somehow owes me an explanation for his presence.
He shakes the water out of his hair. “It’s bad out there.”
I want to hug him or take his hand, but instead I say, “Come sit down with us.”
Ruthie scoots over and the three of us cram in with the rest of the senior class and whatever chaperones volunteered to be here, while Adam and Sophia sit across from us.
“My gram made me come,” says Freddie.
Ruthie peers over my shoulder. “We didn’t see you inside. Ramona was looking all over the place.”
I give her a sideways glance, and she shrugs.
“I was in the car,” Freddie quietly admits. “I was just going to chill for a while, and then go back home. You remember Lydia?” he asks. “My friend from Viv’s party? She was going to drive down, but the weather was bad up there, too.”
My whole body is racked with guilt as I think of him out in the car by himself when he could have been in here with all of us. The only reason he was out there instead of in here is me. “I’m sorry,” I blurt.
“You didn’t make me come,” he says.
“I know. I just—”
The sirens outside kick up again, and the lights begin to flicker. It’s nothing like a police ambulance. These sirens are more obnoxious than that, and they have to be, because tornadoes can hit at any time, even in the middle of the night.
“We’re all quite safe in this hallway,” says Mrs. Treviño over a few shrieks. “This is a stable building that has survived much worse.”
A stable building.Oh God. Oh Christ. The trailer. Feverishly, I dig through the pockets of my jacket for my cell phone, but there are no bars next to the tiny battery in the corner of the screen.
“Hattie,” I say. I turn to Freddie and then Ruthie. “Hattie’s in the trailer. She’s by herself. I’ve got to get to her.”
I begin to stand, but Freddie pulls me back. “Ramona, wait it out. You can’t go anywhere right now. I promise as soon as it’s clear, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
