Personal Statement (13 page)

Tyler and I arrive late and see the crowd fanning out of the library in two distinct groups, one going east, the other going west.

“Aw, shucks,” he says with a wry smile. “Looks like we missed the fun.”

After Emily’s war cry reverberated around the walls of the B&B, Tyler leaned back in to pick up where he left off, but I wasn’t into it and he could tell pretty quickly.

My heart melted a little and for an instant—a crazed, hormonal, irrational instant—I wanted to give in and go all the way with Tyler. He was cuter than any boy who had ever paid attention to me.

But something about that worried me. Like deep down I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, so he must be up to something. I’ve never been lusted after or pursued—and now that it’s happening I don’t trust my pursuer’s motives to be completely pure. How screwed up is that?

But I took a risk anyway and kissed him. It was like an out-of-body experience this time. I wasn’t “Rani” anymore. And I thought about going further. Thought about taking off his shirt, letting him take mine off, as well… But I couldn’t do it. I kept stopping and asking if he really liked me, and he continually assured me that he did, so I asked what was going to happen after the hurricane, don’t worry about it, he said, but you live so far away, I’ve got a car and the train is super cheap, but what about next year and college, don’t think about that it’s so far away, and you really like me? yes yes yes I really like you I think you’re amazing, then if you really like me it’s okay if we stop—for now?

So we stopped. And he said all the right things. But I could see he was disappointed. We held each other in bed for a few more minutes, him calculating when he could make another move, me trying to get up gracefully without hurting his feelings. By the time I finally got dressed and ready, we were already late for the presentations.

So here we are, watching the kids file out of the library. We seem to have missed everything. Not that I mind. It’s just that I know how maniacal Emily can get. And considering the state of mind she was in
before
the presentations, I can only imagine how she’s feeling now. I’m convinced she’ll find a way to blame me if we didn’t win. And some gut instinct tells me we didn’t. But I need to know for sure.

I stop the first kid I see, a little Duck Dynasty protégé with a mesh trucker hat and cutoff camouflage shorts. “Hey—is it over?”

“The presentations?” he says, sliding his hat back on his head a few inches. “Yeah. Watson picked the farmer twins. Some flood-diverting lever they constructed ‘with the Lord’s help.’” The kid sort of sneers a laugh and then adds, “Seems crazy to me. But if that Jesus device works… it’ll be pretty epic.”

Damn. We lost. I bet Emily is cornering the governor right now to demand a recount.

While I’m lost in thought, Tyler asks the kid where everyone is headed.

“Train station mostly—fastest way outta here. Few others are taking buses and cars, I guess. And a small group is ridin’ out the storm at the school. Me? I ain’t no hero. I did my bit, didn’t win squat… now I want me some dry land and cable TV.”

The kid trots off to catch up with his friends. I look at Tyler and raise my eyebrows as if to say, train station or school? Before he can answer, my cell phones rings.

“It’s my parents,” I say, looking at it.

“Don’t answer,” Tyler says casually.

I laugh at the outrageous idea. “I have to answer. They’d kill me.”

“Whatever you say.” Tyler sort of looks around at the passing crowd, giving me a bit of privacy.

Maybe I’m paranoid, but Tyler seems to be cooling to me by the second. No time to dwell though. I press the “answer” button and say, “Hey, I was just going to call you.”

“How’d it go?” my mom asks. “Did you win?”

“Uh, no. He picked another plan. But we did okay, I think. Made a good impression.”

“Did you talk to Teddy?” my dad calls out.

“Uh… yeah,” I lie. “It was nice. He’s a… a nice guy.”

“Oh good!” my mom gushes. “See? It wasn’t weird was it?”

“Nope. You were right.”

“You can tell us all about it when you get home. Are you driving back with Emily or are you taking the train?”

“I think, actually… I’m gonna stay. Here.”

Tyler turns, pleasantly surprised. I scrunch my shoulders up and grit my teeth in a silent, excited gesture.

“What do you mean, ‘stay’?” my mom asks.

“I wanna, you know… stay here in Cawdor. A lot of kids are riding out the storm. There’s a safe shelter—a school nearby? Then we can all be on the ground right away to help during the aftermath.”

There’s a brief silence. As I wonder if my cell phone cut out, I realize my mother is just trying to collect herself.

“Rani Lakshmi Caldwell,” she says sternly. “I am all for you giving your time or money or whatever you
can
to help those in need. But you do
not
risk your
life
for something like this. Nothing is more important than your safety.”

“Mom—I’ll be fine.”

“We’re coming to get you… Daddy can be there in an hour. Doug!”

“Gotta go. Love you!”

“Rani—!”

I hang up. My hands are shaking. I’ve never hung up on my parents before. Tyler looks at me, impressed. Any lustful feelings that had cooled seem to be heating up again. He looks like he wants to kiss me right here in front of everyone.

But before we can do anything, my phone rings again, somehow sounding louder and shriller. I look down at the screen, which reads ‘Mom & Dad.’ The little green ‘Answer’ button and the little red ‘Decline’ button on the bottom taunt me. The phone rings a second time. And I push ‘Decline.’

Silence.

Everything stops. The noise around me. The sound of the wind in the trees. The voices in my head. My heartbeat…

I breathe in. It’s shaky and unsteady. But once I exhale, the noises come back. I hear the crowd milling around behind us. I hear cars starting and pulling out of the parking lot. I hear Tyler, his voice fading in like when a coma victim wakes up in a movie.

“Hey… hey! You okay? You all right?” He touches my arm, looking me in the eye.

“Yeah…”

“You sure?”

“…I’m good.”

My phone rings again. I deftly flick the little ringer button down to silence it once and for all and then stuff the phone in my back pocket. My hands are still shaking, but my breathing is returning to normal. I look around, irrationally afraid that my parents will barrel up at any minute, even though they’re a hundred miles away. After a few seconds go by with no Lexus, I sigh heavily and turn to Tyler.

“I, uh… I told you what my name means, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, unsure where this is going. “Princess, or… queen or something?”

“Mm… I ever tell you what my
middle
name means?”

“I don’t even
know
your middle name.”

“It’s Lakshmi,” I say. “And it means a lot of things. Goddess of wealth, good fortune. But the one my parents always stressed was… ambition.”

“Ambition… Huh.”

We look at the few people still coming out the library, a few going east toward the school, most heading west to evacuate.

“So,” I say, taking a few steps toward the east, “we’ve come this far. Might as well see this bitch to the end.”

§

Tyler and I clutch hands in the back seat, more out of fear for our lives than as any sort of romantic gesture. We’re in a smelly van with Rory, Josh, and two other members of the Grateful Ten (I guess the other six bailed after they didn’t win). On the bench seat in front of us is a total hippie chick who looks like Janice from “The Muppets” and a cute, crunchy girl with dreadlocks who seems to regret staying behind. Janice, on the other hand, appears to have “waked and baked” and doesn’t care
where
she is. Her gaze drifts out the window, but she’s not really taking in the passing scenery.

Rory drives aggressively, swerving across the dotted yellow line, speeding up to pass slow moving cars, braking and swerving back in when it’s clear he won’t make it. After changing lanes for the seventh time and still not being able to pass anyone on the two-lane highway, Josh finally says something about it being cool, bra, Relief Jam can still be a reality.

“Duh—I know. Quit trying to placate me, okay? I’m fine.”

“Well, your driving is kind of wigging everyone out.”

“They can freakin’ walk then. It’s my freakin’ van!”

We ride another minute in total silence and then Janice suddenly says, “You guys remember
That 70’s Show
? With Ashton Kutcher? Why’d they ever cancel that—it was a really great show.”

Josh does a perfect slow burn to Janice, who’s already forgotten what she said and is back to not-really-gazing out the window.

Finally arriving in one piece, we pull into the mostly empty parking lot. Rory follows a string of cars which proceeds like a funeral procession, each one peeling off simultaneously into a spot on the left. The elementary school in front of us hangs under the darkening morning sky, the ashen clouds now almost the exact same color as the school: battleship grey. The low squatting building with bars on the windows looks more like an inner city public school than something you’d expect to see in a small coastal town.

We pile out of the van and I’m not sure if I should hold Tyler’s hand or not. It sort of seems like a moment when I should—hustling into an evacuation area, an impending storm, looming danger—but it also feels totally weird and out of place. So I opt to just stand super close to him like “we’re together but not dating” as we follow the other groups into Millard Fillmore Elementary.

“Millard Fillmore?” Josh says enthusiastically. “It’s a sign, dude. We should do Relief Jam at the Fillmore. In San Francisco!”

Rory gives Josh a contemptuous look that sucks away all of his optimism. But then I see Rory’s wheels turning, as if the Fillmore West
wasn’t
such a bad idea. Maybe Rory will steal it and make it his own. Dump the Grateful Ten and go solo. The Rory Garcia Band.

Making our way into the auditorium, it’s exactly like every public school auditorium I’ve ever seen: bland cement walls, no windows, a sad stage with red asbestos curtains, and energy-sapping fluorescent bulbs in wire cages forty feet above it all. The few dozen people who have decided to ride out the storm in Cawdor are scattered throughout, the dark wooden chairs creaking and moaning under them with every slight movement.

On stage, Elijah Jones and his sister are perched by a long table with a few computers on it. A chubby techie is frantically running cables and wires from the computers to some other complicated-looking equipment on and off stage. An instant later, Elijah’s laptop display is projected onto the auditorium’s ancient pull down screen. (Presumably so we in “the audience” can follow what Elijah is doing?) Since we missed the presentations, I’m not sure why this would be necessary, but Tyler and I settle into some seats near the middle left aisle, away from the Grateful
Four
, offering a decent view of the screen and an even better opportunity for a hasty exit.

Governor Watson and Teddy Hutchins are standing off to the side of the stage near a podium, looking up at the screen, arms folded, faces serious, like baseball coaches watching an important playoff game unfold; expressionless on the outside, jangles of nerves just below the surface. The girl who was Morgan’s RA (I think she said her name was A.J.?) stands a few feet away from the men, making no attempt whatsoever to hide her nerves, peeling the label off a water bottle, readjusting her shirt collar, rolling out her wrists.

I spot Emily in that space between the front row and the raised stage, pacing like a tiger waiting to be fed, like she’s trying to intimidate Elijah or even the governor. For a split second I consider saying hi. But I decide to slump further into my chair and watch anonymously.

There’s a crackle over the speakers, some high-pitched feedback, and then the words “testing, test—one, two—sibilance, sibilance. All right, Elijah, you’re good to go.” Now I recognize the chubby techie as the guy who kept launching himself into the pool last night, naked. (I think he was the one who soaked Elijah after an especially robust cannonball; I guess they’ve made nice since then.) The techie hands Elijah a headset microphone and scurries off backstage, hiking up his pants, which desperately want to fall to his knees.

“What the hell are we watching?” I ask Tyler.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “But it’s hypnotic.”

“Okay, um. Hello. Can everyone hear me?” Elijah says over the loudspeakers, his voice less sure than I remember it being during our brief encounter yesterday. There are a few affirmative murmurs from the sparse crowd. Elijah takes that as an okay to press on. “So what you’re seeing now,” he says, vaguely indicating the screen overhead, “are four live shots from cameras we set up near the top of the existing levee where the, uh, Lennox River crosses the Cawdor town limits. Clockwise from upper left, we have the north, east, south and west-facing cameras…”