“How long you think this stuff has been in there?” Emerson asks. Then she sees dates written in black marker on tape. “Oh, they’re all from the end of August, so just a couple of weeks ago.”
“Just?” Hayden asks. “Is food poisoning part of your plan, then?”
Emerson laughs. “You know what? I like you, Hayden. And please don’t worry. We’ve eaten much worse and lived to tell about it. It’ll be fine. We’ll make sure we choose wisely.”
All three of them start popping the lids off the containers. “I think this is vegetable soup,” Vince says.
“Soup. Great,” Emerson says. “Just what we need when it’s about a hundred and twenty degrees in here.”
“This salad looks gross,” Hayden says, slapping the lid back on and pushing it away.
Emerson studies the contents of another container. “Now, this looks promising.”
“What is it?” Vince asks, peering over her shoulder.
“Pretty sure it’s pulled pork. See if you can find any rolls or bread in the freezer, would you? We can defrost them in the microwave. And I’ll start heating this up.”
Twenty minutes later, the three of them are sitting at a table lit with candles, sipping on ice-cold sodas and eating pulled pork sandwiches.
“The candles are a nice touch,” Vince says as he wipes his mouth.
“You know me,” Emerson says. “Classy with a capital C.”
“I have to say, this is a lot better than turkey,” Hayden mumbles, his mouth full.
Vince nods. “Yeah, best sandwich I’ve had in years. Nice job, Em.”
Hayden downs the rest of his drink. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you guys aren’t with your families? I know you said you’ve been living on the streets, but don’t you want to see them now? Before … you know.”
Emerson waits, curious as to how much Vince will reveal. He hates talking about his life. Whatever’s happened to him, he’s made it very clear from day one that Emerson shouldn’t ask about anything. He told her, if he feels like sharing, he will. Otherwise, it needs to stay right where it belongs—in the past.
She’s actually a bit surprised when he answers Hayden matter-of-factly. “I don’t have a family. Never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was eight. I was in foster care for years before I got fed up and ran.”
“That sucks,” Hayden says. “I mean, I’m sorry. About your mom.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“What about you?” Hayden looks at Emerson.
She considers telling him the story. About how her parents split up when she was twelve. How she and her older sister lived with their mom for a couple of years, visiting their dad every other weekend, until her mom got a new boyfriend and got pregnant. How he and Emerson didn’t get along at all, until finally, her mom said she had to go live with her dad. How it tore her up that her mother would choose a man over her own daughter. How her dad was super strict, and how she got angrier and angrier, seeing how much her mom loved her new baby daughter, but didn’t seem to give a shit about Emerson. How her dad talked about sending her to some camp in Colorado for troubled teens. How she just wanted to get away from all of them.
Well, almost all of them.
But she doesn’t say any of that. “It’s complicated. The only person I really miss is my older sister, Frankie. I’d love to see her again, but I’m not sure she’d keep it a secret if I got in touch with her.”
“Maybe you should try,” Hayden says. “I might be able to help if you—”
Emerson interrupts him. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“So how come your family didn’t leave, Hayden?” Vince asks before he takes another bite of his sandwich.
“No passports,” Hayden explains. “I guess countries that won’t be affected by the asteroid had to draw the line somewhere. It’d be impossible to take everybody, right?”
“Seems like they could have at least tried,” Emerson says, picking up one of the candles and pouring some of the hot wax onto the tablecloth.
“Who knows how far the blast will go?” Vince says. “What it will do to the oceans, the atmosphere, everything. My guess? No one is safe. People are just hoping they are, but I bet it will be a nightmare for everyone, everywhere.”
Emerson groans. “Okay, Mr. Tell-It-Like-It-Is, could we perhaps find a subject that is a little less depressing to talk about?” She tilts her head in Hayden’s direction. “Impressionable minds and all that.”
“You say that like I’m twelve,” Hayden says.
“How old are you, anyway?” Emerson asks.
“Sixteen.”
“Seriously?” Emerson says. “Wow, you don’t look it. Are you sure?”
Hayden chuckles. “I can prove it. My beat-up Civic is out on the street.” He leans forward a little. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. If you want to go see your sister, I can take you.”
Emerson shakes her head. Hard. “No. That’s not the plan. The plan is that we help you somehow.” She turns to Vince, hoping to get things back on track. “So what exactly is the plan?”
CANNON BEACH
was their special
place.
The girls loved it there.
Caramel corn and taffy.
Haystack Rock and tide pools.
Ocean waves and cold toes.
They found two starfish
clinging to the side of a rock,
one purple, one orange,
arms barely touching.
As Emerson snapped a picture,
Frankie said, “That’s us.
I’m the purple one.
You’re the orange one.”
Emerson replied in typical
little-sister fashion.
“But I want to be the purple one.”
Later, their dad took a picture
of the two girls, smiling and
arms around each other,
with their hair blown back
from the wind.
Each of the girls got
a copy.
Emerson kept hers,
safely tucking it
between the pages of
the one book she took with her
when she ran.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Frankie’s favorite.
CARL MIGHT not have much, but at least he still had his phone. The first thing he did after he talked to Trinity was to call a few friends to see if any of them were home and could come and get him. Two didn’t answer and one of them said he was in Seattle with his family.
Just as he was about to try a couple more, he couldn’t get a signal. He turned his phone off and on, and tried again, but nothing.
The service had gone out. So much for having something.
Now he makes his way toward downtown, hoping he can find someone to give him a ride. His mind drifts to the young woman, Lonnie, who got his car, and her four-year-old son, Michael. When Carl asked her if there was anything she wanted or needed, Lonnie told him she wanted to take her son to the beach so he could experience the sand and the ocean for the first time. She’d been living in a small apartment and relying on public transportation to get to work for the past five years. The boy’s father had been a one-night stand, and Lonnie had never tried to find him to tell him about the baby.
“We’ve been happy,” she told Carl. “Michael is the best kid. I just wish he could have done more. Experienced more, you know?”
Carl looked down at the small boy, who was carrying a tattered blanket and a Superman action figure. He imagined the boy’s face when he saw the vast ocean for the first time. When he touched the cold water with his little toes. When he learned the beach was the biggest sandbox ever.
“There should be enough gas to get you to Cannon Beach,” Carl said as he handed over his car keys. “You know how to drive, right?”
She looked shocked. “Yes, but are you sure about this? I mean, what if you need to get somewhere? What if
you decide you want to see something one last time?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. I want this for you guys.” He kneeled down and looked into Michael’s big brown eyes. “Go to the beach. Have fun, okay? Build a sand castle for me.”
Michael had held up his action figure and said, “Superman.”
“Yep, that’s him,” Carl said. “You hang on tight to him, okay? We might need him to save the world.”
“HOLD ON to your microphone,” Emerson says as she opens the door to the karaoke bar and hears noises. “I think there are people in here.”
She walks in with Vince and Hayden close behind. An older man with gray hair, wearing a dinner jacket and a red-and-yellow polka-dot bow tie, stands at the counter in the lobby.
“Hello,” he says. “How may I help you?”
Vince puts his arm around Hayden’s shoulders and they step forward. “I don’t know how this place works, but this young man has rock-and-roll dreams, and we’re trying to help him.”
The man nods. “While we do have rooms for private parties, I’m putting everyone into the suite tonight. It holds up to thirty-five people. I think you’ll agree that right now, the more the merrier, yes?”
Vince starts to give his approval while Hayden says, “I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, come on,” Emerson says. “This is it. Your one shot. An audience of two is about as exciting as an empty champagne glass.”
“Yeah,” Vince says. “I say we go with the suite. Maybe you’ll find some groupies that way. I mean, come on, rock and roll ain’t nothing without groupies, right?”
Vince steps up to the counter. “How much?”
“For tonight, just ten dollars apiece,” the man replies.
“Can I ask why you’re doing this?” Emerson says as Vince pulls out Carl’s wallet for the cash. “Keeping the place open?”
“Well, I guess my answer is, Why not?” the man tells her. “In some ways, it’s just another Wednesday night. And like every other night, some people need a place to go to try and leave their worries behind. One thing I’ve learned over the years is music has incredible healing powers. Think about it. What else is there that can lift your spirits within the span of three minutes? I figured, tonight people could use a little of that. Right?”
Hayden nods slowly. “Wow. That’s totally true.”
“Besides,” the man continues, “there’s no doubt in my mind they’re going to find a way to keep it from happening. In the meantime, I refuse to panic.”
“Business as usual, then,” Vince says as he takes his change.
“Yep.” The man points them to the suite. “Okay, you’re all set. Cell phone service seems to be down, so you’ll have to use the remote to choose your songs. There are books in the room with all of the available songs. Find the one you’re interested in, punch the corresponding number into the remote, and you’re good to go. If you have questions, I’m sure someone in the room will be happy to show you how it works.”
“Thanks,” the three say simultaneously. They walk toward the closed door.
“What if they don’t want us to join them?” Hayden asks. “I mean, they don’t know us. They might think we’re ruining it for them.”
“No, no, no,” Vince says. “You got it all wrong, man. You’re not ruining it for them. You need to think like the rock-and-roll star that you are. This is going to be a night they will never, ever forget.”
THERE ARE about twenty people in the room. Some are sitting, some are standing. At the front and back of the room, there are big flat-screens hung on the wall.
A man and a woman who look to be in their twenties, dressed casually in their shorts and T-shirts, both have a mic and are singing “Love Shack” by the B-52’s. Emerson is pretty impressed with how they sound and gives a look of approval to Vince.
It feels like a party in a way, and Emerson is thrown back to a time before the streets, when she’d sneak out at night to find some fun. She craved it back then—the elation, the frenzy, the constant motion of doing something that made it impossible to think too hard about anything. Right now, she can’t deny that she’s missed having a good time. Life had become so bleak and tedious, just trying to stay alive.
But this room, this group of people, is jubilant, despite everything going on in the world outside these doors. They don’t seem to notice the newcomers, or if they do, they don’t care. When the chorus starts up, everyone jumps up and joins in, including Emerson, Vince, and Hayden. It’s impossible not to. The room hums with emotions as they sing and dance and make the moment all it can be. Emerson feels alive in a way she hasn’t in a long time. It feels amazing, and as she looks around, gratitude fills her.
When the song is over, the woman who was singing says, “We have some new people joining us. Can you introduce yourselves?”
Vince speaks for the three of them, and tells the group their names.
“We’re glad you’re here,” the guy says. “And I sincerely mean that.”
Three teen girls pop up and the mics are handed over. This time it’s “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry. Again, during the chorus, it’s a sing-along and it’s loud and crazy and slightly hilarious.
Emerson makes a heart shape with her hands and looks over at Vince as she sings. Then she blows him a kiss.
You tease, he mouths. Then he sticks his hand out and makes a come-over-here motion with his finger. She grabs his finger and pushes it back to his side, laughing. He laughs, too, and she can see that he’s as happy as she is, in this place that feels like a dream, where all of the fear and worry has been forgotten. Teenage dream, indeed. She feels her heart give a teeny-tiny bit, in the tender place she’s closed off for so long. But she turns her attention back to the music, because she doesn’t want to think about any of that. She just wants to have fun with her friends.
As the song’s winding down, Emerson leans in and says to Hayden, “You should go next.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he replies. “Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. I’ve never sung in front of anyone but my mom.”
Emerson looks at Vince and points at the front of the room, trying to tell him she plans on jumping up there as soon as the song is over. Which she does. She takes the mic as Vince kind of pulls Hayden over to the machine to choose a song.
“Hi,” Emerson says. “Um, we came here tonight for our friend Hayden, who loves music, and has big dreams. Some of you can probably relate. Anyway, while he picks a song, can you guys give him some encouragement?”
The room erupts into applause, whistles, and cheers. It doesn’t take Hayden long to choose what he wants to sing, and then he reaches out and takes the microphone with shaky hands. The crowd immediately grows quiet. Emerson and Vince return to the audience.
“This is one of my mom’s favorite songs,” Hayden says. “I’ve been singing it since I was three.”
And then, it starts. Slowly. Quietly. There are cheers of approval before most everyone sits down to listen to the lyrics of the classic song by Queen, “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
It’s not what Emerson expected. She thought he’d choose something loud and fast right out of the gate. Although she knows the song, and understands it will grow and change and become so much more.
What’s really surprising, though, is this kid’s voice. It is on pitch and perfect, and the more he sings, the more Emerson feels like she’s the one who’s been given a gift.
As he sings about not wanting to die, a lump forms in Emerson’s throat and she looks over at Vince. She can tell he’s trying not to tear up, too. Because Hayden isn’t just singing a song, he’s singing an anthem about life and death and what it feels like to face the frightening unknown. The song has an almost fantasy feel about it, but Emerson knows the feelings it’s brought up are one hundred percent real.
The heartbreaking moment passes and the song speeds up. Everyone is on their feet, singing along again.
The room is electric as they share the lyrics and
the rhythm and the emotions of the song with one another. Just like that, Emerson returns to unbridled joy and it feels as if her whole body is expanding from taking it all in. She can’t remember the last time she had this much fun.
And then, without even trying, she does.
THEY USED to have concerts
in the living room.
two sisters
After school,
while their mom worked,
Frankie would play the
old Carpenters album
on the turntable and
sing about yesterdays,
rainy days, and Mondays.
sweet and sad
Usually Emerson sat
and listened to Frankie,
but once in a while,
Frankie would invite her
to join in.
happy together
They used curling irons
for microphones
and sang it like they meant it.
Emerson told Frankie,
“You’re amazing.
You could be a star.”
dreaming big
Frankie smiled and said,
“But there’s a million stars.
Maybe I want to be the
one and only moon instead.”
THE MOON is bright and beautiful. As Carl walks, he considers his options. He’s asked three people for rides, but none of them were heading in that direction and they didn’t want to make a special trip. It’s ten miles from downtown Portland to Lake Oswego. A long way to walk, but certainly not impossible.
He’s been wandering around, trying to find something to drink. All he can think about is how thirsty he is. His throat and lips are so dry, it hurts. His stomach rumbles. The last twenty-four hours, he didn’t worry about food or water. It was all about helping as many people as he could and having fun. It didn’t matter what happened to him.
But now, things have changed. It matters.
He heads for a drinking fountain up ahead. When he pushes the button, nothing happens. He curses under his breath. There’s only one thing left to do. Break into a place for some food and water, unless he can find somewhere with a door open.