You’re Invited Too (20 page)

“Fine, I'll suggest it to her. Nicely.” Sadie's quiet while she types. “Okay, how's this? ‘
We are at the middleschool shelter and not allowed to leave. Please come here. It's not safe on the beach
.' ”

“I think you should add ‘you cray-cray' to the end of that,” Becca advises.

“Um, no.” Sadie hits send.

“Hey, is that your dad?” Vi points somewhere past my shoulder.

I turn and spot Dad and Zach making their way through the crowd to the line for lunch. I jump up and race toward them, barreling into Dad, who's soaking wet. I guess it's started raining.

“You're here!” I say, my voice muffled by his Sandpiper Beach Marina polo shirt.

“Of course we're here,” he says, running a hand down my hair as I squeeze the breath out of him.

“Oof,” Zach says when I let go of Dad and launch myself at my brother.

“I was worried about you,” I say when I finally let go.

“You didn't need to worry,” Dad says. “We're all here and safe now.”

“Except Bubby,” I tell her. “Sandpiper Active Senior Living was supposed to send everyone in on buses.”

“They'll be here soon, I'm sure,” Dad says, but his smile is pinched at the corners.

“Miss Worthington just texted back,” Vi informs me when I return to our table. “She doesn't understand why we can't leave the shelter and come to Ike's.”

“And she's not coming here. Totes cray-cray, I told you,” Becca adds. She passes me a pretty white-and-yellow-frosted cupcake. “Here, Mrs. Marks came by handing these out. Something about how they were for a birthday party today and she didn't want them to go to waste.” Becca looks at the cupcake with sad eyes. “They make my teeth hurt.”

I peel the wrapper away and polish off the cupcake in a few bites. I figure it's best to get rid of it so Becca doesn't have to look at it longer than necessary. Plus, it's really good.

“So, what did you say to Miss Worthington?” I ask Sadie after I swallow the last bite of cupcakey goodness.

She frowns. “Pretty much the same thing I said before. Then I told her my mom was making me turn off my phone to save the battery in case the power goes out. I feel bad lying to her.”

“Way better than, like, putting up with all her loconess all night,” Becca says.

I agree with Becca, but right now I'm actually worried about Miss Worthington and Ike fending off the hurricane in his beach house. It's front row, too, like Vi's house. “Do you think we should tell someone?” I ask my friends. “Like the police? Just so they know they're out there in case . . .” I can't finish the sentence.

Sadie nods. “Let's go find an officer.”

“I think I saw Officer Davis at the door,” Vi says. “He was telling people they can't bring in their pets.” She chews on her lip, and I know she's thinking of her cat, Buster, at the animal shelter up in Wilmington.

“He's gonna be fine,” Becca says. “He knows he's coming back home. Cats are smart like that, you know?”

Vi gives her a slight smile as we all get up to deposit our trays and go back to the lobby. When we get there, Sadie spots Officer Davis at the door with Becca's parents, talking to newcomers carrying in suitcases and bags of stuff. We push our way through the people to reach him.

Just as Sadie is telling him about Miss Worthington, a few volunteers, including Vi's dad and Sadie's mom, prop the front doors to the school open. Wind races in, rustling the papers on the check-in table and sending little droplets of rain in to sting our faces. I hold a hand up in front of my face, and then I spot a school bus parked in the circular drive out front.

I recognize Lance's dad and older brother helping people off the bus. Elderly people. My heart jumps. This is the bus from Sandpiper Active Senior Living! Which means that Bubby's here. As volunteers guide the seniors in toward the check-in table, I stand on my tiptoes to look for Bubby.

Old Mrs. Crenshaw, who was the town librarian forever and ever until Miss Suzie took over, is the last one off. The driver pulls the door closed and the bus lurches forward. I squeeze past my friends to reach Lance's dad.

“Mr. Travis, is there another bus from Sandpiper Active Senior Living coming?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “They got all the residents onto this one, and the staff is coming over in their own vehicles.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty positive. How come?”

“My bubby should've been on that bus.” My heart is pumping into overdrive as I realize what's going on. Bubby's not here.

She's missing.

•  •  •

It's been two hours since the bus from Sandpiper Active Senior Living rolled in, and Bubby's still not here. No one knows where she is. I've sent her texts, Mom and Dad have called her, and nothing. No answer. We've asked every staff person who's come through the doors, and we get the same story.

“She left about noon with her scooter to go find Mr. Wheeler,” they all say. “He'd gone out for a walk to the water to see the waves and was supposed to have been back. She refused to leave without him, and we're not a nursing home, so we couldn't force her to stay.”

Dad alerted Officer Davis, who radioed Officer Rodriguez. He was going to search for them after he finished checking on Miss Worthington and Ike. Dad keeps pacing the lobby and threatening to look for them himself, but Mom's insisting he stay here. “Putting yourself in danger won't do anyone any good,” she says. “Officer Rodriguez will find them.”

Meanwhile the wind's been picking up, the rain is coming down even harder, and the meteorologists on TV are saying the storm might reach speeds of a hundred miles an hour, which would turn the hurricane into a Category 2. But they aren't sure if it'll come right at us or veer out toward sea. I don't care—I want Bubby here, right now.

“She's going to be fine,” Sadie says for the millionth time. “I just know it.”

“It's Bubby,” Vi says. “She can do anything.”

“I think it's sorta romantic that she took off to save Mr. Wheeler,” Becca says with dreamy eyes. “Can't you just see them, clinging to each other in the wind, holding on together to fight the pushes of nature?”

“Forces of nature,” I say in a monotone. “And no, it's not romantic at all. It's stupid. It was stupid for Mr. Wheeler to go down to the beach, and stupid for Bubby to go after him by herself, without a car. What if she doesn't come back?” My voice is rising as panic fills my chest.

“She's going to be fine,” Sadie says again as she squeezes my hand. “She has to be.”

But she still isn't here. Even an hour later, almost four o'clock, five hours away from landfall, she's not here. Officer Rodriguez radioed in to say that he drove all along Coastline Drive, stopping now and then to check the beach, and didn't see them. He's going to keep searching as he looks in on a couple more holdouts on the island.

The lights flicker as the wind gusts outside. Becca lets out a little shriek, and Vi grabs my arm.

“That's it, I'm going out to look for them.” Dad shrugs on a Windbreaker as my mom tries to convince him not to go.

“Oh my God, y'all, I feel like I'm going to be sick.” My stomach's churning all that lunch lasagna.

Sadie moves in front of me, a hand on each shoulder. “Lauren, it's going to be okay. I'm sure they just realized how crazy this storm is going to be, and they've gone into a store or something.”

“But all the stores are closed and boarded up!” I know she's trying to help, but all I can think about is Bubby struggling to maneuver Wanda through the streets as wind and rain try their best to knock her down. “What if she's hurt?”

Dad's got his car keys in hand, and Mom finally lets go of him. Now Zach's trying to convince Dad to let him come too, and Mom's shaking her head.

The lights flicker again, and the front door flies open in the wind. Officer Davis and Mr. Alberhasky race forward to pull it shut.

“What is that?” Vi's dad says over the howl of the wind.

“I think it's a person,” Officer Davis says, squinting through the sheets of rain.

“Bubby,” I whisper. I pull away from my friends and run to the open door.

“Lauren! Get back here!” Mom yells.

But I don't listen. Instead I run until I'm just outside the door, standing next to Mr. Alberhasky and Officer Davis. The driving rain soaks through my long-sleeved shirt and jeans in seconds as I hold a hand up to my eyes to peer down the school drive. Sure enough, there's someone coming up the pavement.

Rolling, it looks like, not walking.

Bubby.

“Bubby!” I yell. I take off down the driveway, with all the adults on my heels.

She's riding Wanda up the driveway, but there's something weird about her. As I get closer, I see what it is—a man, perched on her lap. It's Mr. Wheeler.

“Hey, LoLo! Look what the cat dragged in!” she shouts through the wind.

She stops Wanda when I reach her, and Mr. Wheeler hops off. She stands up and I grab her in the squishiest, wettest hug ever.

“I was so worried,” I say. “Dad was going out to look for you.”

“Pish-posh. You don't have to worry about me,” she says. “I'm tough old Bubby from the block.”

I squeeze her even harder. Dad reaches us and throws his arms around us both.

“Let's get inside,” he says. He keeps an arm around Bubby while I hold her other hand. No way am I letting her go now. Mr. Alberhasky fires up Wanda and rolls it behind us as Officer Davis helps Mr. Wheeler inside.

Bubby and I start shivering the second we step in the doors. Becca's mom throws blankets around both of us, and Mrs. Marks shows up with hot tea. My hair is plastered to my head—I hate getting my hair wet—and my clothes feel like they're glued to my body. But I don't care. Because Bubby's here and safe. Everyone I love is okay. Mom, Dad, Zach, Bubby. Josh is safe at school in Raleigh. My friends and their families are all here.

I reluctantly let go of Bubby so that we can get changed into dry clothes. A woman from Sandpiper Active Living hands Bubby her suitcase. In the bathroom, I pull on a pair of jeans. I yank my science flash cards out of the pocket of my wet pair. They're unreadable, the ink smeared and the paper tearing. I'll have to make new ones.

“Nothing like a dry pair of duds to make a woman feel like new,” Bubby says as we stand in front of the sinks and try to do something with our hair.

I finally give up on mine and start laying out the flash cards that are still salvageable. I line them up on the little shelves that jut out from under the mirrors.

Bubby peers over my shoulder. “Were you studying?”

I nod. “I have to. I need to fix my grades. I can't let anything get in the way of that, not even a hurricane.”

Bubby sighs and looks at herself in the mirror. “I sure do wish I had my blond wig,” she says as she smooths her wet hair. “I hate for Mr. Wheeler to see me like this.”

I smile at her. “You saved Mr. Wheeler's life. I doubt he'll care what your hair looks like.”

“True dat,” she says, and I cringe a little. “You know, this little rescue mission has reminded me that maybe there's more to catching a gentleman's eye than good looks. Like saving his behind from a hurricane.”

My hair is starting to seriously frizz, so I pull a rubber band from my bag and try to collect it into a ponytail. “So, does this mean you won't be sharing flirting tips with Becca anymore?”

Bubby laughs, and my heart melts to hear it.

“Oh no, of course I'll still be doing that. Becca needs some of my sage advice on catching a young man's attention, after all.” She gives me a side eye. “And you, too, my LoLo.”

“No, thank you,” I tell her. “The only thing I'm worried about is my grades. And RSVP. That's it. No boys.”

Bubby sighs. “Extremes are dangerous, Lo Baby. And you miss out on so much. Trust me, I learned the hard way. Remember when dear old Mr. Vernon moved to Scotland this summer, and I didn't get so much as a kiss?”

I can see my cheeks tinging red in the mirror. Really, grandmothers should not mention kissing. Ever.

“That's because,” Bubby goes on, “I was too focused on getting his attention. And the same with Mr. Wheeler. Until today, anyway.” She shoots me a sneaky smile in the mirrors. “Think about it,” she says as she scoops up her wet clothes and disappears out the door.

The lights flicker again. I should get out of here. The bathroom is the last place I want to be if the power goes out. Who knows what kind of creepy ghosts might haunt a middle-school bathroom. But I stay a minute longer, looking at my reflection in the mirror, bordered by those flash cards on the shelf.

Extremes, Bubby said. Am I being too extreme? I jumped from super-studious Lauren to good-times Lauren and then back to even-more-focused Lauren. Is there a middle ground? Somewhere that I can get As in school, do my extracurriculars, enjoy RSVP, and still have fun with my friends? Maybe even play a video game or two with Zach on occasion?

I feel like it's something that can't be planned, though. Something I can't jot down in my calendar for six p.m. to seven p.m. on Wednesday nights. Maybe it's just knowing when I've studied enough, or keeping my extracurriculars to a few really important ones. Maybe it's saying yes to an impromptu Saturday afternoon trip to the mall in Wilmington with Becca after finishing my homework, or combing the cove for shells with Sadie before jumping into RSVP business. Or maybe it's just more time spent in the
PPE
with my favorite friends, or lingering over dinner with my family once in a while.

If I let myself slow down, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I can find this balanced Lauren. The Lauren who knows how to have fun, still does well in school, and doesn't let herself get so caught up in the schedule of it all.