The Last Boy and Girl in the World

by Siobhan Vivian

  Morgan laid a hand on my shoulder and pushed herself up off the floor. Then she put the sticker book at the very top of her keep pile. “Shut up,” she said to Elise. “You told me once that in eighth grade you were still sucking your thumb.”

  I snorted with laughter, even though it wasn’t even that funny. And maybe I should have given Elise a pass, since she was going through a lot. But the chance to make her feel like the immature one for once was too good for me to pass up.

  23

  * * *

  Sunday, May 22

  Sunny, 70°F

  * * *

  The morning of the City Hall protest, the coffee in Dad’s cup got cold while he leaned over his speech and made adjustments with one of his stubby, knife-sharpened work pencils, the kind he normally used to make saw lines on two-by-fours. I’d only seen him more nervous one other time, when I walked into the hospital room right after his accident, before the X-rays came back and the surgeons discussed a plan and the pain medicine kicked in and we knew for sure that he’d walk again.

  I have to admit, I was also nervous for him. My mom, too. A lot was riding on today. If there was going to be any chance of saving Aberdeen, then we’d need to stop people from meeting with the adjusters and taking deals.

  At least the weather was nice. It felt like spring, like everything maybe still could be okay.

  While Dad fiddled with his speech, we flew around the house, loading up the truck with the protest signs, filling a cooler with bottles of water, packing up the clear plastic drums of pretzel rods and cheese puffs we’d bought at Walmart, in case anyone got hungry.

  We drove over to City Hall, all of us in Mom’s car. The ride was super-quick, I think we got there in two minutes, but it felt like forever because it was so quiet, all except for some deep, chest-emptying exhales my dad would push out, as if he were blowing up a balloon.

  I tried to make small talk to brighten the mood.

  “Anyone want to hear some of the protest chants I’ve been working on?”

  Mom chuckled nervously and nudged Dad. “Uh-oh.”

  I leaned forward. “Okay. So I think we open with the classic ‘Hell no, we won’t go!’ It’s got a lot of energy, everyone knows it.”

  Mom smirked. “She’s really thought this through.”

  “Then we switch over to ‘Power to the people!’ to amp up the energy, keep the crowd excited, link those potential passive bystanders to our cause by their mere proximity.”

  Dad slowly turned his head, and I knew he hadn’t been listening, but I kept going.

  “I took the liberty of creating a new chant, something fresh and specific to our fight. Check this out.” I cleared my throat. “Gov-er-nor, go away, let Aberdeen stand another day!” I sang, to the tune of “Rain, Rain, Go Away.”

  Dad reached back and ruffled my hair. “I love it.”

  We pulled around the corner of City Hall. There was a line of people wrapping around the sandstone building, each one occupying a square of sidewalk like in a human board game. And a couple of police officers standing guard. I guess they were called in to make sure things didn’t get out of hand or that we didn’t try to interfere with the people who were waiting to speak with the adjusters. But either way, their presence showed that Sheriff Hamrick was taking us seriously at the very least. I kept an eye out for Levi, wondering if he might show up, even if just to check things out, but he wasn’t there and neither was his father.

  “Look, Dad!” I said, pointing. “That’s a lot of people!”

  He leaned forward to the passenger window, but then just as quickly leaned back into his seat. “Those people are waiting to meet with the adjusters. We told our crowd to meet at the park across the street, near the gazebo where Mom and I got married.”

  “Oh.” I felt terrible about my mistake, but not for long. Because as we turned into the park, we saw a crowd there, too. Maybe close to two hundred people total, way more than were in the line across the street.

  “Okay,” Dad said, a smile finally gracing his face. “I can breathe now. We aren’t the only ones who showed up.”

  “Of course we aren’t,” Mom said, giddy. “Did you really think that?”

  I reached forward and gave her shoulder a happy squeeze.

  There were three news vans and reporters—Shawn Wilcox, the one my dad had spoken to outside school, and another man and a woman I recognized from other stations. All had their cameramen taking footage.

  We parked, and as Dad opened the car door, the people in the park applauded him.

  I pulled on his sleeve. “If you’re able to pull this off, Dad, who knows? You could be the next mayor of Aberdeen!”

  I’m not sure if my words inspired him or what, but when Dad walked through the crowd of supporters, he sure did play the part of a politician. He moved his cane to his left hand and shook hands with people with his right, thanking them for coming. Then he greeted the three reporters.

  He looked young, strong, and handsome.

  Morgan called out for us. She and Mrs. Dorsey raced over, waving excitedly. In that moment, I felt like I could see the future. Here Morgan was, supporting me, and standing just a few feet away was her mom supporting my mom. This was what I always felt our friendship would grow into. We would always be in each other’s lives. Our mothers were proof that was possible. Or, not just possible, but our destiny.

  Mrs. Dorsey hip-checked Mom. “This is really impressive, I have to say.”

  “Isn’t it?” Mom was beaming. “He’s worked so hard.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Dorsey said, and I caught her sharing a quick look with Morgan. “Yes, he certainly has. And we are all glad to see that.” Then she hugged my mom, tight.

  I saw Jesse’s hatchback pull into the parking lot. I grabbed Morgan’s hand. “Come on!” We ran through the crowd, which had the atmosphere of a festival. Everyone I saw was smiling. Upbeat.

  Jesse popped out and hugged me, then Morgan. Julia bolted from the backseat and ran straight for the nearby playground. But there was someone notably missing.

  “Is your mom coming?”

  We’d talked about it underneath the bleachers. I’d asked Jesse what his mom was planning to do, if she’d heard anything about the rally. Jesse said he was keeping her completely filled in. And if she didn’t have to work, she’d most likely come. I was looking forward to meeting her for real.

  Jesse pouted. “She ended up getting called in this morning. Sorry.” He slung an arm around me. “But we are here as her representatives. And Zito’s on his way too, with a few of the soccer guys. I told them to wear their uniforms.” He opened the backseat and there were all the posters we’d made together, plus a few other ones that Julia must have worked on, because the handwriting was very squiggly and shaky and unsure. Seeing me notice, he said, “She had no idea that Craft Time was actually forced child labor.” Morgan and I laughed at that. “Hey, where’s Elise?”

  Morgan answered. “She went back to the hotel to get ready for her party tonight. Also . . .” She paused, choosing her words carefully, “I think this is tough for her, you know.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. Totally.”

  I noticed that Jesse was not in his uniform. He was in a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt with the sleeves cut away. “If you told Zito and those guys to wear uniforms, why aren’t you wearing yours?” I asked, already knowing that his answer would be interesting.

  Grinning, he said, “I thought you’d never ask.” He raced around to the back of his car and popped the hatch. Inside was the furry suit of our high school’s mascot, Hawkeye the River Hawk, like a deflated plush balloon. Brown body and wings, yellow socks, yellow plush claw feet that strapped over your shoes, big brown head with angry eyes and a snarling yellow beak. And of course, an Aberdeen High hunter green and gold athletic jersey.

  I gasped. “Where did you get this?”

  “That gym Dumpster I told you about. Can you believe it?”

  Morgan reached in to pet the hawk head. “
I haven’t seen this in forever. Maybe since sophomore year?”

  “You’re right. I remember the kid who used to wear it. Max something? After he graduated, I don’t think anyone else took it over. I should have asked about it. I totally would have played mascot in the off-season.”

  I said, “It’s a little mangy-looking.”

  “Yes, yes. Hawkeye has seen better days. But I figured there’s no better way to get the crowd pumped up than a little River Hawk pride. Also, this is going to make killer footage for the news guys.”

  I threw my arms around him. “You are the best.” And I stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Here,” I said. “Give me your phone. I’ll film you getting changed in the backseat, and then, burst out of the car, okay? Like a superhero.”

  “You’re perfect,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.

  • • •

  My family and I watched ourselves on the news that night, before I left for Elise’s good-bye party. Dad was on the couch, Mom nestled into the crook of his arm.

  The rally was the top story of the evening. The studio anchor threw it live to Shawn Wilcox, still standing on the steps of the now-quiet City Hall. He lifted his microphone to his mouth.

  “The showdown over Aberdeen’s future hit a fevered pitch today with a rally at City Hall. Mr. Jim Hewitt, self-appointed leader of the Reservoir Resistance, said he came here looking for two things: answers and accountability.”

  They cut to their tape. Shots of our protesters as they paced the sidewalk, signs bobbing up and down against a darkening sky, chanting my rally cries. Of course, they showed Jesse in the mascot uniform, jumping around and fist-pumping.

  The cameraman also videoed three policemen who stood stoic as some of the people from our side chanted, “Bring out Aversano! Let him speak to the people!”

  Dad leaned forward and kissed the top of Mom’s head. “Okay, good. I was hoping they’d show that.”

  They cut to a shot of my dad on the steps of City Hall, speaking to the crowds and to the people waiting in line for the adjusters. He read off a paper cupped in his hand. But his delivery, if a little stiff, was impassioned.

  “Mayor Aversano and Governor Ward, we demand our due process. We want assurance that our politicians aren’t trying to turn our tragedy into their opportunity, at the expense of us, the people who call Aberdeen home.” Dad focused on the news camera. “We know you’ve been lowballing our friends and neighbors during your supposed ‘good faith’ negotiations. And we’re not going to stand for it any longer.”

  He said that lowball part so confidently, I didn’t question it, even though I knew Elise’s family had gotten a crazy payday. After all, Dad was talking to people in town about this every day. He must know more about it than I did.

  They cut back to Shawn and his microphone, live on the steps. “Though this appears to be something of a David and Goliath fight, there were several residents of Aberdeen who left their spots in the line for adjusters and wandered over to hear more from the Reservoir Resistance movement. We asked the offices of both Governor Ward and Mayor Aversano for direct comment but have yet to hear back.”

  I heard the beep of Morgan’s car outside. “I’m leaving.”

  Dad waved without looking, but Mom turned her head. “Okay. And Morgan is taking you to school tomorrow?”

  “Yup.” After a hotel breakfast, Morgan and I would head straight to school and Elise would leave for the airport. This night might be the last time I ever saw her. But I wouldn’t let myself feel sad. I didn’t want to be a downer. My job tonight was to bring the fun. Make sure Elise had the time of her life. Give her a proper send-off. Because even though things were weird between us, I still cared about her. Deeply.

  “Have a good time,” Mom said. Dad started playing with her hair, picking up little strands of it and letting them fall. Mom curled even closer into him. Across the room, Dad’s laptop was off. And Mom’s work bag was zippered up.

  I pulled the front door shut and ran to Morgan. “Uh, I’m pretty sure my parents are having sex tonight.”

  “Eww!” Morgan screamed.

  I made gagging sounds. “I know. I know. Hurry up and drive!”

  About halfway to the hotel, Morgan said, “I need to tell you something. I told Elise today she could invite Wes if she wanted to.” She turned to me for a second and then looked back at the road. “I didn’t think it was right to forbid her to see him on her last night here.” She wet her lips.

  “Okay,” I said, and tried to make it sound like I wasn’t anxious. I quickly pulled out my phone and texted Jesse.

  You’re still coming tonight, right?

  As soon as my mom gets home from work.

  “You know . . .” She let the words hang in the air. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Wes isn’t super-nice to you. I bet he feels really bad about what happened.” And then, less confidently, she added, “And I know you do too.”

  The rest of the ride to the hotel was pretty quiet. I know what both Morgan and I were thinking about. The last time I saw Wes, almost a month ago, the moment everything went to shit.

  • • •

  Because we had nothing better to do that day, Morgan and I went to visit Wes at his family pharmacy. She wanted to text him a heads-up that we were coming, but I told her surprising him would be more romantic. It was the first time I’d given Morgan any boy advice. I felt good. Like I had made a place for myself in this new part of her life.

  The pharmacy was cute. Sort of old-timey and on a tree-lined street. Morgan thought we’d go in and say a quick hello. Though they’d been a couple since Christmas, she still got super shy and awkward around him. She liked him that much. But I was on a roll. I had a much better idea.

  We walked into the store. I pretended to shop, like a regular customer. Except I filled my basket with the most embarrassing items I could—tampons, condoms, lube, douche, gas pills, wart remover, adult diapers, stool softener, upper lip wax, a cushion pad for bunions. With each item Morgan gasped. Or she whispered something like “Oh, no, Keeley!” Not in a stop it way. In a you’re hilarious way.

  Still, Morgan peeled off from me right before we reached the register.

  So it was just me standing there with my head down, waiting as Wes made change for an old lady. When she walked away, I stepped forward and smiled. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” he said. At first he didn’t look at me. He was just staring at the stuff in the basket. But then he finally did, and it took him a couple of seconds to place me. Aberdeen was a half hour away so it wasn’t like we ran into each other around town. Once he did, though, he wasn’t exactly happy to see me.

  I tried teasing him into that feeling by acting like a legit customer, asking him to tell me which vaginal cream he might recommend, stuff like that.

  He turned purple. And he started looking around in the aisles for Morgan. Maybe he hoped she would rescue him, drag me away. But Morgan was hiding behind a rack of reading glasses.

  I had no idea that his parents were behind him. Both were pharmacists, I guess. They started watching our exchange. Which, from their angle, looked like Wes not being a very helpful employee.

  Eventually, his mother asked, “Wes? Do you need help with anything?”

  “No!” he said. And then he whispered to me through clenched teeth, “What are you doing?”

  But even though he’d said no, his mom came around to the counter anyway. “Is everything okay, dear?” she asked me. But her face went from friendly to confused to put off when she eyed my basket.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m a friend of Wes’s. I wanted to stop by and visit.”

  His mother’s eyes lingered on the condoms.

  “Um . . .” I laughed sheepishly. “We’re not friends like that.”

  Frowning deeply, she fiddled with the cross around her neck before I turned around and called for Morgan.

  24

  * * *

  Sunday, May 22

  Evening rain, low of 59°F


  * * *

  The pool was on the roof of the hotel, in an atrium topped by a glass canopy. It was nice—I liked the little blue mosaic tiles they used to line it—but smaller than I’d expected. The deep end wasn’t even deep, it was only five feet, so you couldn’t really jump in. There was a big hot tub, though, big enough for eight or nine people to each have a jet. I loved the feeling of going from hot to cold to hot again, but I wrapped myself in a towel and shared a lounge chair with Morgan once Wes and his friends arrived in their swim trunks and began taking off their shirts and shoes.

  I saw him stealing glances at her a few times. So I told her, “You can go talk to him if you want.” She hadn’t yet. He hadn’t made a move to talk to her, either. Probably because I was sitting next to her.

  “I know,” she said, and patted my leg.

  Elise’s family ordered in a bunch of pizzas, and they had cans of soda in silver ice buckets brought up from the hotel restaurant, and a stack of cloth napkins. Every twenty minutes or so, one of the waiters would come clean our mess or make sure the lounge chairs had fresh white towels rolled into cylinders and placed at the crook between the seat and the back.

  I kept checking and rechecking my phone for word from Jesse. I knew he’d be late, but I didn’t think he’d be this late. The party had been going over an hour already.

  About ten minutes later, Jesse came in through the sliding glass doors, Zito close behind him, looking down at his phone. I quickly leaned back in the lounge chair and closed my eyes, as if I were tanning. I felt him walk over.

  I had on my second-favorite bikini, since Jesse had already seen me in my favorite one that night at his Slip ’N Slide party. This one was an underwire top with a bit of padding in the cups, which made it seem like I had a tiny bit more boob than I actually did. It was white and magenta stripes with highlighter-blue and pale pink flowers dotted on. It looked better on me late in the summer, when I’d have some color built up.