Paper or Plastic

by Vivi Barnes

  Today I was on greeter shift with Ruthie, who had started to get on my nerves again. For some reason, Mr. Hanson had scheduled the last three days with me as greeter. Not only did I have to put up with Ruthie’s cart games, but I didn’t see Noah much, which made me wonder if Mr. Hanson was catching on and giving us less opportunity to be together. Of course, considering Mr. Hanson was the one who encouraged Jake’s pranks, I somehow doubted it.

  “Look at me, Lexus,” Ruthie said, swinging around and around on the cart like we were at Disney World. “Look at meeeee….”

  I smiled tolerantly, but I was tempted to push the cart out the door into the rain. I liked Ruthie—at least I didn’t feel like rolling my eyes all the time at her anymore—but sometimes she drove me bananas. She loved the Dreadful Greeter Position and always greeted every customer like they were the most important people in the world. It probably made them feel good, but I was going to stick with my boring “hello.”

  The customers that day were an oddball mix—was the rain sending in all the crazies at one time or was it a full moon? And I meant that literally, considering one woman came in with pants that had slipped halfway down her butt. It didn’t look like she was wearing underwear. I did notice that her top was probably three sizes too small. Did people not have mirrors?

  A guy dressed in hunting attire walked in with an umbrella, which didn’t strike me as strange until he shook the umbrella out and I noticed it had a pink bunny rabbit print on it. I laughed, and even Ruthie thought it was funny. “Hippity hop, hippity hop,” she said, jumping up and down with hands perched in front of her. The guy gave a backward look at her like she was the weird one. Which made me laugh harder. It was the first time I’d laughed in a few days, and I was grateful to Ruthie for it.

  Noah was working the floor today. He stopped by once to see how we were doing, though he addressed Ruthie more than me. The fact that he stood near me without scowling now made me feel a spark of hope.

  Every time he walked up, Roxanne, who spent most of her time wandering around the produce section, would stare at us with her pinched face, just waiting for us to “get out of line.” Clearly, she didn’t notice that things had changed now, although she did still intimidate me. I was so afraid she might do something to jeopardize Noah’s job that I just kept my eyes averted. At the same time, I felt kind of bad for her. Noah protected Miller from getting bullied by covering for him with Bryce, and though I didn’t know what happened with Roxanne in high school, I had a feeling no one ever covered for her. I wondered what she’d be like today if someone had.

  “Storm’s getting worse,” Noah said as he stood next to me to stare out at the darkening sky. My heartbeat quickened at his voice. It’d been too long since he’d spoken to me.

  “I know. Looks bad.”

  And that was the end to our fascinating conversation as he nodded and walked away without looking at me. Still—progress.

  “He likes you. A lot,” Ruthie said loudly behind me. I jumped.

  “Ruthie, he likes you, too.”

  She giggled. “Not as much as he likes you. Did you do it yet?”

  My mouth dropped open. I could not have heard her just say that. “No, Ruthie.” Time to change the subject. “Want to play cart coaster?”

  “Yes!” She jumped up and down and clapped her hands. So for the next hour, we went around and around on the carts. I would never admit this to anyone if they’d asked, but it was kind of fun. And it kept her from asking if Noah and I had “done it.”

  The thunderstorm raged around us, and by four o’clock Ruthie and I had discontinued the cart game to just stare at the doors. It even hailed, sounding like a hundred giants tap-dancing on the roof. Ruthie put her hands over her ears as the crack of thunder announced each blast of lightning. Nobody was coming in the store now, and most customers were standing near the doors with their loaded carts, waiting for the storm to calm.

  “Ahhh, Lexus,” she groaned, holding her ears as another snap of lightning hit nearby.

  Noah walked up and put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Ruthie. It’s just the thunder laughing at a joke the lightning said.”

  Ruthie nodded, but she still kept her hands over her ears.

  “See? It’s just an afternoon thunderstorm,” Noah said. I wasn’t sure about that. It was getting so dark outside that it looked like evening instead of afternoon, and there was an eerie greenish tint to the sky.

  “It’s getting really nasty out there,” Mr. Hanson said, joining us. The winds were gusting now. It was hurricane season, but we would’ve known days ago if one was coming. “We’re under a…um…” He glanced at Ruthie. “A T-warning.”

  “We’re always under a T-warning,” I said. It was true—Florida was known for eccentric summer weather. Tornado watches weren’t that unusual, though we usually didn’t get anything more than crazy wind and rain and the occasional waterspout. I wasn’t worried.

  Until, of course, the shopping carts started sailing across the parking lot and ramming into cars. At the same time, a lightning bolt sliced into a pole across the street, causing the wires to fall and spark. The lights in the store flickered. Noah and I backed away from the door with Ruthie following us, moaning and holding her head.

  Mr. Hanson stopped a woman as she was pushing her cart full of bags toward the door, attempting to open her umbrella. “Excuse me, ma’am. The weather’s getting really bad, so we’re going to keep everyone in the store for now, just in case.”

  The lights flickered again, then went off, leaving us in near darkness. Soon, though, the lights flickered again and came on, dimmer than before. My pulse started racing—now I was starting to freak out. Without thinking, I reached for Noah’s hand. His fingers wrapped around mine, and it was comforting more than anything.

  Mr. Hanson escorted the woman with the cart toward the employee area, throwing orders over his shoulder. “Noah, comb the back of the store. Get everyone into the restrooms in the back. Bessie, get the cashiers and customers up front into the employee hallway.”

  Noah nodded. “Go with Hanson to the hallway,” he said gruffly. He squeezed my hand once, then let it go. “It’s smaller and a lot safer, I think.” He patted Ruthie’s shoulder. “Everything will be okay.” She didn’t pay attention to him, just rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

  Noah started jogging toward the back of the store, yelling at customers here and there to follow him.

  “Come on, Ruthie, let’s go,” I said, fully intending on joining Noah instead of heading to the hall like I was supposed to. If we were going to get hit with seriously bad weather, I’d rather be with him, regardless of how he felt about me.

  “Noooo…” Ruthie was keening, holding her hands over her ears as lightning cracked loudly over the store.

  “Ruthie! Ruthie, let’s go!” I tried tugging on her arm, but she was solid, unmoving. “Ruthie! There’s a tornado coming!”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake. Ruthie fell to her knees and started rocking. “Noooo…” she cried loudly. “Noooo…”

  I pulled on her arm, but she wouldn’t budge. “Ruthie!” I looked around quickly. Everyone was already moving. I shouted out to Roxanne, but she was already running. I didn’t know if she could hear me.

  Ruthie screamed as lightning crackled over the store. I could see stragglers pushing their way into the employee area several feet away.

  “Help!” I screamed, but my voice seemed to go nowhere. My instincts cursed at me and told me to get the hell out of there, but I couldn’t leave Ruthie. “Come on, Ruthie!”

  “Lex.” Bessie was next to me, taking my arm calmly and pulling me away. “Let me.” She nodded toward the last of the people heading through the employee door. “Go.”

  I backed away, relieved, as Bessie crouched next to Ruthie. “Ruthie, it’s okay. This isn’t so bad. It’s a game, Ruthie. Just a game.”

  “Nooo…” Ruthie howled. “Noooo…tornado.”

&nbs
p; Bessie kept crooning to her, but Ruthie refused to move. I hesitated, looking through the outside doors, into the blue-gray of the storm. Boxes, plants, and leaves were all blowing sideways. Palm trees were bent almost in half. And the sky— “Bessie!” I shouted.

  Bessie looked up at me, then followed my gaze to the angrily swirling clouds. Her face paled. She started pulling on Ruthie’s arm urgently, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good. I joined her, but Ruthie was really freaking out now, holding her head and yelling. The sound changed from a whistling wind to an unmistakable roar. For a split second, I was in shock myself. I knew what that sound meant from those tornado chaser shows my dad liked to watch.

  I shoved my fear away. We had very little time, and I knew the only way to move Ruthie was to make her think this was fun. “Ruthie, we’re going to play cart coaster, okay?” Keeping my voice steady was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I grabbed a cart, ignoring the palm fronds that were hitting the windows, and rolled it to her as fast as I could. Bessie was repeating my game idea to her.

  Ruthie slowly released her ears. “Cart coaster?” she asked hopefully.

  I was shaking now, so hard that my hands barely managed to grasp her arm. “Yes! Come on, Ruthie. Cart coaster. It’ll be fun!” Inside my head, I was praying as hard as I could. I thought Bessie was, too, her wide eyes staring at the door behind me. “Lex,” she said, her voice enough of a warning that I didn’t even turn around to see what was happening.

  The building seemed to shake, or at least that’s what it felt like to me. I got Ruthie to latch onto the cart, and as soon as she stepped off the ground, I started running as hard as I could, adrenaline kicking in.

  Glass smashed behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the entrance doors blow in. Shards of glass hit my back, and I could hear Bessie yelping. The cart skittered over the glass and Ruthie started howling.

  “Hang on, Ruthie,” I yelled, shoving the cart through the glass. Something swiped the side of my face that felt like palm fronds.

  We turned down the frozen food aisle to get away from the blast of wind, making a left at the end of the aisle, running as fast as we could to the back of the store where I knew there was at least a walk-in freezer to hide in. We weren’t even halfway to the back when a large shelf display crashed to the ground in front of us. I skidded to a halt, almost dumping Ruthie, who struggled to keep her clutch on the cart.

  “Bessie, in here!” I said, pushing the cart through the door to the bakery. I turned around, but Bessie wasn’t behind me.

  “Bessie!” I screamed again and again. I thought my heart was going to explode. Behind me, Ruthie howled. I could hear a strange ripping sound somewhere. “Ruthie, get off the cart and under that table,” I shouted, pointing toward a large metal cake table. “Now!”

  I ran back through the door amidst the chaos of wind and rain that had found its way inside. Bessie was lying on the ground, the boxes and cans that fell off a nearby shelf surrounding her. “Bessie!” I climbed over the stuff to crouch next to her. She was conscious but bleeding on her face and arm.

  “I think I broke something,” she moaned. She was holding her side.

  “We need to get out of here! Come on, we’re just steps away from where Ruthie is. Ruthie needs you. Come on, Bessie.” I was shouting as the wind whipped around me, pelting me with rain and leaves and boxes, and cans rolled everywhere, but she was in so much pain I wasn’t sure she could hear me. I screamed as plaster tiles fell around us. The roaring from outside was moving inside. “Bessie, please, I don’t want to die and I don’t want you to die.”

  She nodded, letting me help her into a standing position, or a crouching position, really, as she was holding her side. I helped her limp forward, almost dragging her, ignoring her cries of pain as my eyes fixed on the square window of the bakery door. Something hit me in the back, but I kept moving. Five feet. Four. Three—something smacked the top of my head—two. One.

  We pushed through and the door closed behind us. It was a little calmer in here. We could still hear everything crashing and shaking, but at least nothing was flying at us now. I tried to help Bessie get as comfortable as she could under the big table, next to Ruthie, but she was fading out of consciousness.

  “Bessie, stay with us, it’ll be over soon,” I said. I had never been in the middle of a tornado—was it normal for them to last this long? I grabbed a couple of cake pans from the shelf next to us, handing one to Ruthie. “Hold this in front of you if anything flies at us.” She nodded and grabbed the pan, holding it over her face like a mask.

  A crash hit just outside the doors, like a huge wrecking ball was smashing the store. Then came the wind, blasting again. The door to the bakery flew open and debris swept through.

  “Ruthie, protect your face,” I yelled, holding up the pan in front of my face.

  Ruthie screamed and Bessie passed out. Ruthie and I held hands as tightly as we could, arms over Bessie as if we could protect her. I said prayers over and over in my head that the storm would go away and leave us alone. I prayed that Noah was safe, that Mr. Hanson and Roxanne and Larry and Jake and the customers were safe.

  Another crash—this one close to us. Everything fell down around us—plaster and foam and white and tile. I screamed, then started coughing as my lungs filled with dust that floated in the air. I pulled my legs in as tight as I could and Ruthie did the same. More smashing sounds, this time over our heads.

  We were being buried alive.

  I pulled Bessie’s legs around so the metal table protected them. The table was pressing down on our heads, dented by the falling debris.

  We were going to die.

  For the first time, I felt calm, eerily relaxed. It was like I couldn’t run any further, so my mind was giving up. I shook my head and cuddled closer to Bessie as Ruthie grabbed my hand.

  I couldn’t give up.

  Then the crashing stopped.

  28

  Silence.

  Eerie silence, like standing in a cemetery at midnight. I sank back and closed my eyes. We survived. With some scrapes and bruises and whatever, but we were still alive. I hoped Noah and everyone else was safe. And my family. I had no idea where this tornado was headed.

  I coughed and coughed and retched over powder that filled the air. Ruthie was coughing, too. “You okay?” I croaked to her shadow in the quiet darkness.

  Pinpoints of light from around the sides of the rubble illuminated the tiny space enough for me to see that Ruthie’s eyes were wide and frightened, but she nodded. “Is it over?” Ruthie asked, her voice shaking hard.

  “I think so. Bessie?”

  Bessie was still passed out. I placed a finger on the side of her throat and found her pulse. “She’s okay, Ruthie. She’s breathing. But, I don’t know. I think she’s got broken ribs or something. We probably shouldn’t move her too much.”

  I glanced around. There were blocks and tiles and broken tables and who knows what piled around us. There was very little room under our small table, which had seemed so big before. I kissed my dirty hand and touched it to the metal table leg. “Thank you, table.”

  Ruthie giggled, which made me giggle, too. “What is wrong with us, Ruthie?” I asked.

  “I guess all the scary was pushed out of us and the only thing left is the funny,” she said, giggling again. Strange thing to say, but accurate, I guess.

  “What is all this stuff?” I asked, brushing the powder off my pants.

  Ruthie stuck her finger in her mouth. “Flour!”

  At least that made sense, considering we were in the bakery. “We need to get out of here,” I said. I slipped my hand into my pocket, then remembered that my phone was in my bag in the locker. Crap. I tried shoving at the wall of ceiling tiles and plaster, but all that accomplished was to cause a small avalanche of debris.

  “Do we scream for help?” Ruthie asked.

  “I guess so.”

  So we did. We yelled, “Help,” and, “We’re here,” and var
ious versions of that, but nobody answered. Our voices swirled around in this tiny space without going farther, but we still yelled until our throats and ears were sore. Every once in a while we stopped and listened, but the silence around us was unchanged.

  I rested my head back against the wall. “It’s okay, Ruthie.” My voice was hoarse. “They’ll come find us. The fire trucks will be here and they’ll come in after us. We just need to sit tight.”

  “Oooh, fire trucks? With the sirens and everything?”

  I nodded, suddenly so incredibly tired. My body ached from my neck down. “Sirens and everything.” I closed my eyes. “Listen for them.”

  I opened my eyes at some point. Had I fallen asleep? My head was aching. I tried to shift a bit but my back was too sore. Ruthie was stroking Bessie’s hair and talking to her. Bessie was staring up at the ceiling of the table, her face scrunched up in pain. I wished I could do something for her.

  “Bessie!” I adjusted my position to face her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said in a strained whisper.

  I took her hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She jerked her head slightly to indicate no. I wrung my hands, wanting to help her. “I know it hurts, but…” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay, Bessie,” Ruthie crooned. “I can hear someone right now. Someone is telling us we are going to be okay. They’re trying to get in here now, but there’s lots of stuff they have to pull away to get to us.”

  I glanced at her sharply. There was no one. What made her think someone was going to rescue us soon? No one could hear us. No one knew we were even here. But Bessie’s eyes were fixed on Ruthie as if every word was a lifeline.

  I dropped her hand and sank back on my heels, wrapping my arms around my knees. I wondered how much of the store got hit—and if anyone else was hurt. And where was Noah? Did he make it? My imagination took hold and I started imagining him struck in the head with flying debris or maybe even carried out of the store with the force of the winds.