You’re Invited Too (21 page)

Then the lights flicker again, and I grab my bag and race out the door. I leave the flash cards on the shelves.

Daily Love Horoscope for Scorpio:

Something's brewing on the horizon. The winds will blow in with a big change, so brace yourself, Scorpio!

I
mean, I for sure know that hurricanes are nothing to mess around with and I don't want any
one
or any
thing
to get hurt, but if I'm being totally and brutally honest, I completely l-o-v-e all the excitement in the air.

Drama is so totally my jam.

Besides, now that Bubby is safe and everyone else in town seems to be here (except for Alexandra, since Officer Rodriguez told us she and Ike refused to leave their house), it's cozy and warm and there's lots of laughter from little pockets of the room where groups of old dudes are gathered to play cards and little kids in pj's are listening to our town librarian Miss Suzie do a story time. If not for Linney trying to organize cheerleading practice in the center of the room, all would be perfect. Ugh. Like a giant swirling hurricane is going to be influenced by her cheer:

Blow your mighty, blow your best, blow right out of town.

'Cause we are fighting, we won't rest, and you can't keep us down.

It's been dark all day because of the storm clouds, but now it's getting to be night, and if I were home, Daddy would just be setting up the timer for my homework. (Let's just say I have a teensy-tiny problem sitting still and Daddy thought a butt-in-seat timer would keep me in place. FWIW: it doesn't.)

But no one (except Lauren) seems to care one itsy-bitsy iota about homework tonight. Plus, unless the storm blows out to sea, we're probably not even having school on Monday. We'd have to have morning assembly on cots in the middle of Mrs. Bishop's meditation shrine and the model-ships-in-bottles collection Mr. Hallowell insisted counted among the “essential items only” we were instructed to bring.

I rifle through my rolling suitcase for some appropriate shelter wear. What does one wear to a hurricane evacuation? I packed tons of options, naturally (I can do “essential items only” as well as the next person), but from the looks of it, the proper attire seems to be either sweats or pajamas. And I don't do sweats.

Pajamas it is.

I find my cutest matching flannel set—navy with hot pink, light pink, and white polka dots—and slip off to the girls' room to change. I grab my sparkly toiletries bag while I'm at it, so I can brush my teeth. And then I add my strawberry lip gloss, because hello, this may be a giant sleepover, but there are
boys
around.

And not just boys, but Philippe. I wonder what he thinks of all this. Do they even have hurricanes in France? Maybe I should go ask him. I may possibly have casually noted him setting up a cot near Lance and a couple other guys from the soccer team earlier (and by “casually noted,” I mean I could tell you he sleeps on a blue ticking-striped pillow, brought a DS with three games in the case, snacks on ruffled potato chips, and knows how to make a bed with hospital corners—you know, casually noted). Maybe I
should
go ask him.

Except I've kind of been avoiding him ever since B-Day (Braces Day). I doubt he'd be interested in talking to a brace-face anyway. I sigh and survey the room instead. Mama and Daddy are over by the back doors talking to Mayor Keach. Vi is helping her dad set up a folding table by the stage for a couple of giant coffee urns, and Lauren is against the wall, actually doing her homework, although she said she'd be up for hanging out as soon as she finishes all her math problems. Weirdo. I hunt for Sadie and finally find her in a big circle with Izzy and a bunch of girls who look like they're around the same age as Iz.

I plop down in the middle of them. “What's happening,
chicas
?”

The girl on the other side of Sadie sniffles, and Sadie removes her arm from Izzy's shoulder and turns to the girl. “We're just missing some furry friends over here,” Sadie says.

The girl has big brown eyes, and they're all watery when she looks at me.

Awww. Poor thing.

“I want my puppy,” she says.

I share a look with Sadie, who says, “Her parents took her dog to the animal shelter in Wilmington so he'd be safe during the storm.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, hey, tell you what. Do you know Cooper at Polka Dot Books?”

The little girl nods.

“Well, he's my next-door neighbor, and he's basically the best dog there is. And
he's
at the same shelter. So I'm betting he's taking really good care of . . .”

I pause and wait for her to fill in her puppy's name.

“Oscar the Grouch,” she offers. I raise one eyebrow and avoid Sadie's eyes so I don't laugh.

“Right. Oscar the Grouch. I bet little Grouchy is having the absolute best time of his life with all those other doggies to play with.”

She nods and gives me a big smile, and I look around at the other girls. They're only a couple of years younger than we are, but they look so small and lost. Was I ever that little? Yipes.

“That doesn't seem that fair, though, does it?” I ask. “How come they get to have all the fun and we don't? I think we need to do something about it. I say we have a . . .” I motion to Sadie to yell at the same time as me, but she just looks at me with big question marks in her eyes, so I have to yell, “DANCE PARTY!” solo.

All the girls squeal and jump up. I find my phone and plug it into my glittery portable speaker (obvs I packed the true essentials) and crank up a happy tune. A few adults look over with pursed lips, but then they go back to their boring talking and we girls boogie down. I even get Lauren to ditch the homework once she spots us. When she decides to excel at something, she's all Lauren about it, and ever since the Scottish party this summer, where Lauren totes let loose on the dance floor and started having Fun with a capital
F
, dancing is her thing. I love it.

I'm midspin when I happen (just
happen
, I swear) to glance at the soccer boys, and I almost fall over when I catch Philippe watching me. Watching ME! Omigosh, I seriously could die right on the spot. I don't even know what to do, besides clamp my lips closed over my braces, of course. I duck my head and do another shimmy-thing move, and when I peek back at him, he's facing Lance. Bummer. But he
was
watching me, and I saw it with my own two eyes.
Oooh la la!

After the girls are all worn out from the dance party, Sades and I help them find their parents and then Sades goes to tuck Izzy in since her mom has joined Vi's dad in handing out coffee to the grown-ups. I consider trying to sneak a cup myself in case Philippe happens to glance over again, so I can look all grown-up and mature, but I'd feel pretty guilty about using up the shelter's entire supply of cream and sugar.

Instead I wait for Sadie and then we wave over Lauren and Vi.

“You guys want to go peek out some windows?” The gym at our school is in the middle of the building—on purpose since most schools around here have to double as storm shelters—and doesn't have any windows that could blow in during a storm. But that also means we can't tell what's happening outside here.

“Are we allowed to leave this room? Since everyone's here and the cafeteria's closed now?” Lauren asks, glancing around.

“I mean, the bathrooms are in the hall, and we've been going there all night,” Vi says.

“Duh. Right.”

We head in the direction of the bathrooms but then peel off down the hallway that leads to the main office and the doors outside. When we reach them, we each push one of the four heavy side-by-side doors open halfway and peer outside. It was eerily calm when we drove over to the school late this morning, and even though you could kind of smell the storm in the air and the clouds looked pretty creepy, you couldn't really tell anything big was coming. But obviously it was way worse by the time Bubby showed up, and now the winds have picked up even more. The trees are bending over, and in front of the school a plastic cup bounces across the sidewalk before getting lifted off the ground and disappearing high into the sky. It's super weird to think that on the other side of the bridge Sandpiper Beach is basically a ghost town. I cross my fingers on both hands and make a wish that we get to go back home to everything looking exactly the same.

“Okay, that's long enough!” Lauren declares, pulling on my pajama shirt to yank me back inside. “We came, we saw. Now let's get back!”

Sadie and Vi clang their doors shut too and we all turn. The hallway is in nighttime mode, with only about a quarter of the overhead lights on, and the wind rattles the heavy doors. Something slaps against the outside of one of them. None of us want to admit we're scared, but we all jump a little at that.

“Let's go,” Sadie whispers.

“Cosigned,” I say.

In the distance, from the direction of the cafeteria, a lone figure walks slowly toward us. Uh-oh. Are we about to get in trouble for wandering the school without a hall pass? Or worse? We all stand frozen as the shape draws closer.

Wait.

Is that . . . ?

Yippity skippity! It's Philippe!

My hand automatically flies to my mouth to cover the Metals of Evil. When he reaches us, he looks kind of shy, and his eyes bounce all around but don't really settle on any of us.

“Um,
bonsoir
,” he says, kind of in my direction, but he could also be talking to Lauren. It's hard to tell.

Sadie answers. “Hey! Coming to check out the storm?”

“Er, yes. I mean,
non
. I was . . .” He trails off and then takes a super-duper deep breath and looks STRAIGHT at me. “Do you feel like talking?”

Do I feel like talking? Do
I
feel like talking? Do seagulls poop on Sadie's head? Well, maybe that was just the once, but yes. Yes, they do. Of COURSE I feel like talking with Philippe!

“Sure,” I answer breezily. I can do breezy! Except, well, my voice might have cracked a little, but whatevs. Otherwise? Totally breezy.

Sadie and Lauren giggle, and even Vi looks a little wide-eyed as she says, “Um, okay, so we're gonna go pull our cots together and get settled in. Just, um, come find us when you're done talking, Becs.”

“Yup.” That's all I can manage. Philippe has his hands stuffed in his pockets, which looks like a super-good plan because I have zip-zero idea what to do with my own hands. Flannel polka-dot pajamas are seriously lacking in the pocket department. I stand there shuffling awkwardly while my three friends abandon me. Well, maybe not abandon so much, because it's not like I don't want to hang out alone with Philippe, but . . .

What could he want?

“Would you care to . . . I mean, do you wanna zit?” The word “wanna” sounds weird in his French accent, like he's just trying out American slang. And don't get me started on “zit” versus “sit.” Of course I don't want a zit. Who would? I hold in my giggle, though, and when he motions to a spot in a little alcove between the trophy cases, I slide down the wall. He sits next to me and crosses his legs in front of him.

“So, uh, I wanted to say zat it was really nice what you did wiz zose leetle girls earlier. Helping zem not be scared, Becca.”

I pretty much love the way my name sounds when he says it. “You saw that?”

“You know I deed because you saw me watching you dance.”

“Oh.” BUSTED! “Um, right. I didn't . . . I didn't know you knew why we were dancing, though.” Smooth, Becs. Really smooth.

“I did. I noticed. I always notice you, Becca.”

My heart is
thunk-thunk
ing in my chest because he's sitting so close to me, but when he says that, it, like, totally stops. For a second I think I might actually need those paddle thingies they have on TV hospital shows to restart it, and I get a little panicky. But then it hammers against my ribs, and I let out my breath with a whoosh.

He always notices me?

I've always wanted to be always noticed by someone!

“You . . . you do?”

“Oui.”
I can feel his nod. I can't see his nod because I'm too afraid to look at him, but when I screw up my courage, he's looking right back at me, and his eyes are soft and have this kind of hazy expression. Oh. Ooooooh!

Philippe likes me. Like, LIKE likes me! Whoa.

I look back at him, and I'm betting my eyeballs are big and wide because I'm kind of registering all of this, and then they get even wider because he moves his head a tiny bit closer to me, and if he does that even one more time we will totally TOTALLY be kissing, and I think maybe I want him to move one more time but at the same instant I think maybe my heart will stop again if he moves one more time, and omigosh I think he
is
moving one more time, and is this the part where I'm supposed to close my eyes or do I wait until his lips actually touch mine and thank the goddess I put on my strawberry lip gloss and . . .