You’re Invited Too (23 page)

Dad checks the time on his phone. “I need to go and help clean up out front so people can get their cars out. It could've been a lot worse, but the wind knocked down a big tree across the driveway, and there's a lot of debris all over.”

“I'll help you.” All of this helping is kind of nice. I like it.

Dad smiles at me, and I like that, too.

“David?” Mr. Travis sticks his head into the kitchen. “We're headed out now.”

“Be right there,” Dad says.

I stuff the last of my eggs into my mouth and snag the rest of my cinnamon roll to eat on the way. We drop our plates onto the dishwashing stack and leave the kitchen. I wave to a bleary-eyed Becca, standing in line for food with her parents. I'm pretty sure they made her get up early to go be useful too. Becca doesn't intentionally see any daylight before ten o'clock on the weekends.

After I change (quietly grabbing clothes so I don't wake up Sadie and Lauren), I go outside to join Dad. The wind and rain have stopped, but it's still pretty overcast. And there are branches and leaves and small tree limbs everywhere. Someone's lined up a row of huge trash cans, and a few people are gathering the debris and dropping it in.

I find Dad down at the bottom of the circular drive, near the road. He's surveying a big tree that's fallen across the driveway with Mr. Travis, Lance, Lance's older brother Sam, Coach Robbins, and Ms. Purvis.

“We can use my truck,” Ms. Purvis is saying. She's wearing an old
SOMETHING'S FISHY IN SANDPIPER BEACH
fish-cannery jacket and torn jeans and basically doesn't look anything like Ms. Purvis, seventh-grade homeroom and history teacher.

“All right. I'll get the chain saw,” Dad says. “We'll have this thing out of here in no time.”

Ms. Purvis backs up her old truck and pops the tailgate, just in time for Dad to get back with the school's chain saw. Lance and I heft up pieces of big limbs and toss them into the truck bed while Mr. Travis and Ms. Purvis handle the trunk. I'm kind of thankful that the chain saw is really loud. That keeps me from having to try to talk with Lance. I haven't had anything to say to him since he turned into Linney's little lapdog.

In no time at all the tree is off the driveway and filling up Ms. Purvis's truck. It's cool outside, but we're all drenched in sweat. Dad pulls off his cap and swipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“What next?” Mr. Travis asks.

Dad scopes out the school grounds. More people have come out and are spread across the driveway, lawn, and parking lot, picking up debris and putting it into trash cans they've dragged outside.

“Looks like we're in good shape out here,” Dad says. “Folks can start leaving, if everything's clear on the roads and the island. I'll stay behind and clean up the school.”

“Not alone,” Ms. Purvis says, as she climbs into the driver's seat of her truck. “I'll round up some more people to help out as soon as I get this out of the way.”

As Dad, Lance, Sam, Mr. Travis, and I walk back up toward school, Dad talks to everyone we meet on the way. A “thanks for helping!” here and a “great work!” there. Everyone smiles at him, and most of them thank him too.

Something creeps into my heart. Something different. I think it's pride. . . . I'm proud of my dad, the school janitor.

Just inside the doors, Mrs. Marks and some other people are gathering the check-in lists and folding up the tables. Becca's wheeling a giant trash can full of coffee cups through the lobby. She's glaring at it and is barely touching it with two fingers. I'm like 99 percent sure that her dad insisted she help out. I'm just dying to know how she got stuck on trash duty instead of entertaining the little kids or handing out coffee creamers.

Dad stops to help Mrs. Marks fold up the sticky leg of one of the tables. Linney's standing nearby—not helping, of course, just sipping her coffee (or
milkfee
, as Becca likes to call it, based on Linney's milk-to-coffee ratio) and holding up the wall. Her highlighted hair looks a little bedraggled in its low ponytail.

A crash sounds from across the lobby, and I think we all jump a mile. Becca lets out a horrified wail as she surveys the plastic trash can, tipped over onto its side, cups and empty sugar packets still tumbling out all over the floor. She looks like she's about to cry. She bends down to pick up the cups. I take one step toward her to help when Linney detaches herself from the wall and sashays across the trash-strewn floor.

“Don't worry about that, Becs,” she says, like she and Becca are besties. “The
janitor
is here. He'll clean it up. It's his job, after all.” She sips daintily from her milkfee and eyes me over the top of her cup.

I glance back to where Dad's still helping Linney's mom. If he heard Linney, he's not saying anything. Instead he's pounding at the table leg, which refuses to budge. But plenty of other people heard. Lance is right next to me, frowning at Linney. A few other kids from school are standing around, holding sleeping bags and backpacks. And Lauren and Sadie have just wandered into the lobby, still in their pajamas.

“
What
is taking him so long? Seriously, you'd think this school could hire someone who'd actually do his job. I mean, just last week I found a hair in one of the bathroom sinks. Gross.” She shudders, as if this is the most disgusting thing in the history of the world.

That's it. I clench my fists and stride forward.

“You have a lot of nerve,” I say to Linney.

Her smile falls just a little bit. I don't think she expected me to say anything. Which just makes me want to say more.

She pastes the smug smile back on. “Please, Violet. Your dad is kind of useless when it comes to cleaning.”

And that does it.

“My dad is
amazing
at his job. In fact, he's pretty amazing at everything. Like setting up all the cots before anyone else got here yesterday, and organizing the check-in so the police would know who was still on the island. Saving the whole town from staying overnight in a dark school. Rescuing breakfast this morning. Cleaning up out front so everyone can leave today. And he's even helping your mom right now. So what are
you
doing, huh?” My voice is way too loud, but I don't care.

What I do care about is the look on Linney's face, which is half shock and half embarrassment. I'm just about to add, “Don't let your tongue get your teeth knocked out,” but I bite my own tongue.

“I think you've said enough, Linney,” Lance says quietly from next to me.

“Now make like a cheerleader and hop,” Becca adds, her arms crossed.

I don't have the heart to tell her that doesn't make any sense at all. Not when she, Lauren, and Sadie are all lined up like soldiers, ready to pelt Linney with empty coffee cups if she says anything else. And Lance . . . I can't think about that right now.

Linney rolls her eyes, lets out a sigh louder than anything, and stomps past her mom and right out the door. As I watch her go, my heart starting to slow back to normal, I catch Dad's eye.

He's smiling. And blinking kind of fast. He takes off his cap and swipes at his face, like he's trying to wipe off sweat. But I think—no, I'm pretty sure—those are almost tears. I want to race to him and give him the biggest hug he's ever had, because, really, he is the best dad ever. Janitor or not. He kept us all safe during the storm last night. But I don't right now, not in front of all these people. Instead I grin at him. He winks at me and goes back to helping Mrs. Marks. He knocks that table leg into place with one good
thump
.

“Now, that's the Vi I know,” Lance says from behind me.

I'd almost forgotten he was there. “Um, thanks,” I say. Because I'm really not sure what to say to that. But when I catch his eye, he looks at the floor.

“You know, Linney and I were never . . . um . . . and at the dance, I didn't really want to . . . you know . . .” He trails off and finally meets my eyes. “She's not very nice, is she?”

“That's pretty clear, Captain Obvious,” I say, and it feels almost like we used to be. So I smile, not even one tiny bit mad at him anymore. What he just said to her a few minutes ago told me everything I needed to know.

“See you at soccer. Maybe you can come by the restaurant after. Free tater tots for friends of the owners. Unless they run away. No tots for runaways.” He slaps my back, and I could swear his hand stays on my shoulder just a little longer than it needs to.

And it doesn't feel weird at all. It's kind of nice, actually.

Mrs. Genevieve Worthington

together with

Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence J. Malix

invite you to share their joy

at the wedding of their children

Alexandra Elise Worthington
and
Isaac Jacob Malix

on
Saturday November 14
Sunday November 15

at two o'clock in the afternoon

at the

Church of the Victorious and Forgiving Holy Redeemer

1401 Live Oak Drive, Sandpiper Beach, North Carolina

banks of the Bodington River, end of

Bodington Drive, Sandpiper Beach, North Carolina

Reception to follow at

Poinsettia Plantation House

10370 Poinsetia Road (on the mainland)

the same place!

The favor of a reply is requested by October 25

Dress: Elegant Vintage

TODAY'S TO-DO LIST:

■
 there is not enough paper in the world to make this list, so let's just leave it at THROW WEDDING!

N
OW should I worry?”

My mom glances over at me as we drive back home from the shelter, er, school. She looks all Zen because our house will still be standing when we get there and not riding a wave somewhere out in the Atlantic. “What's this now?” she asks.

“Well, all yesterday morning and at the shelter you told me to concentrate on packing and boarding up the house and not to worry about the wedding until we knew there was something to worry about. So I just want to know when I'm supposed to start worrying that there's supposed to be a giant ceremony tonight when, um, our entire town looks like the Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed all over it.”

Mom bites on her bottom lip as we swerve to avoid a fallen tree branch in the road. Up ahead a power line dangles loosely from its pole, and the sidewalk is basically a solid carpet of sticky wet leaves.

“I'd say commence the freak-out,” Izzy chimes in from the backseat.

“Not helpful, Iz,” my mother replies. “Sweetie, let's just take things one at a time. When we get home, we'll call Alexandra. Cell service is out, but the landline should work. We'll see where her head is. For all we know, she'll want to postpone. Maybe riding out that storm scared her into being a rational person. And
if
she wants this wedding to go forward as planned tonight, we'll just take a deep breath and improvise.”