TIP #11
Admit when you’re wrong, apologize, and learn from your mistakes
After what feels like hours, I decide to see if I can make things better with Cooper.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Rory. I push open the steel door and step out onto the second floor. I cast the flashlight beam around in the dim light, hoping to spot Cooper. I feel terrible. I immediately start thinking of how I can make things better between us, patch things up since I can’t erase what happened. How can I make things up to him? How can I show him how sorry I am?
He’s nowhere to be seen. I want to find him so we can talk it out more, even though I know that’s not what he wants right now and I risk him rejecting me. There’s so much going on — and so much uncertainty as we sit holed up in this building. I feel like we need each other more than ever right now; instead I’ve gone and messed things up. Now he doesn’t want to talk to me. I get it. I deserve it. But we’re also going through one of the scariest times of our lives and if there’s any time we could use each other for support, this would be it.
I hover on the second floor, just outside the stairwell door under the emergency light. Being alone in this moment makes my body shiver; pangs of regret and lonesomeness prick at me. It feels like me against the world. I’m illuminated by this little light in a sea of darkness. Like a theatre production where I’m the solo actor — the person in the spotlight on display for all the world to see. I picture myself on a stage. Everyone is watching. I lead into my monologue — a pathetic tale of self-pity in which no one feels any empathy or concern for my plight. Rather, the crowd turns on me. I duck as things are thrown my way. I try to explain myself but the jeers get louder until I’m forced to run off the stage for my safety.
This whole situation feels surreal. Like we’re part of the real-life version of a virtual reality life-simulation Sims game, and someone is controlling our characters like a great big social experiment. Except this is one I don’t want any part of.
I don’t want to go back to the group and have to put on a brave face again. Samara and Cooper are off working out their own hurts, each of them alone somewhere in the darkness. I guess it’s time for me to work out mine. I’m like Wreck-It Ralph, seen as the bad guy when I only want to be the good guy in it all.
“It was a mistake,” I whisper to myself. I rub my arms to try to get rid of the goosebumps and decide to step away from the light. That way, no one will see the tears that are forming all over again.
TIP #12
Earn her trust
After taking time to try to make sense of what I’ve done, the need to find Cooper and Samara and try to make amends gnaws at me so much I start pacing; in the meantime, the storm has only intensified and I start to feel that regardless of whether or not they accept my apologies, I need to find them and bring them back to the stairwell so that I know that they’ll be safe. It’s not about me anymore. I mean, of course I want to restore our friendship, but ultimately, I care more about their physical safety in the midst of this crazy storm.
Since I know that Coop is upstairs somewhere, I decide to look for Samara. I carefully step through the maze of legs as I make my way to the first floor.
“Rory,” I tell him when I make it to the landing. I shine my light at George, who’s still lying on the landing next to Rory. Someone has given him a jacket or something to use as a pillow; another jacket is draped over him as a blanket. “I’m going to get Samara.”
“We’ll send Erwin —”
“No. It’s gotta be me.”
Rory nods. He must’ve heard the argument between me and Cooper. I’m pretty sure everyone did. He doesn’t look too happy about me going but he doesn’t try to stop me either.
“Be quick,” he says. He’s breathing heavily and looks exhausted. “I need you back in this stairwell.”
I nod and pick up my pace. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to talk to her and see if she’s okay. I get to the bottom and push open the door, shoving a big wave of water aside, and I shine the flashlight across the mall floor. She shouldn’t be out here. She should be in the stairwell with the rest of us where she’s safer.
I slosh through the water and shine the light as quickly as I can in all directions hoping for a glance of her. It dawns on me that if she really doesn’t want to talk to me she might see me coming and deliberately move to stay away from the light.
“Samara?” I call out gently. “Sam?”
I hear nothing but the whistling of the wind from the storm above and the splashing water from my steps. I keep walking, hoping I’ll come upon her. The silvery security gates that protect the stores flash eerily in the light. Would she have really gone far knowing that the storm was so bad and with the mall so dark?
“Sam?” I call out again. And then I see her. She’s on a bench, bent forward with her head resting on her knees and her arms around her shins. She doesn’t move or acknowledge me. I tiptoe closer but the sound of the water gives me away.
“Are you okay?” I ask. She’s shaking. I place my hand on her arm as gingerly as I can. When our skin touches, she flinches and tucks into herself even more.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. I don’t want to do anything that would make her more upset. Her body is racked with silent sobs until an animal-like sound erupts from her when she finally takes a deep breath. It breaks my heart. I sit down beside her.
“What can I do?” I ask helplessly.
“You can’t fix everything,” she says through her tears. “Not everything is a problem for you to solve, Zach.”
Immediately I feel terrible. I didn’t mean to upset her. I just want to help. “I just hate to see you like this,” I say. “You don’t deserve this.”
“Deserve what, Zach? Tears? Being alone in a building where help isn’t coming?”
She looks up at me. Her mascara has run down her face in thin black lines.
“Help will come,” I say dumbly, but I regret the words as soon as I say them. This is not what she needs right now; these placating words mean nothing.
“Or do you mean the fact that my dad is actually dead? That he died five years ago? Or do you mean my mother, who’s a drug addict? Or her creepy boyfriend who keeps her high? Or how her boyfriend is mean and violent to both of us? What is it that I don’t deserve?”
I’m frozen in place. I don’t say a word.
“And then he wants to take me back home with them when I’ve finally found a way to escape.”
Samara is crying so hard I worry she’s going to pass out. I want to hold her and wipe her tears but I don’t dare touch her. It’s the first time in my life that I have no idea what to do.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”
My insides grow hot with rage. I want to find that Alec dude and beat him. I want him to see the damage he’s done and then suffer for it. A kid should never have to worry about this kind of thing — not ever. But I don’t know what to do in a situation like this.
“Have you told anyone?” I ask.
Samara shakes her head. “Not until today.”
I nod. Samara wipes her face with her hands.
“When you said you spotted those people in the mall, and then we heard that people were stuck in the elevator, I knew it was them and I didn’t want them to find me. I explained to Cooper that things weren’t so hot at home so that he’d understand why I was acting so strangely and trying to hide.”
I think back to Cooper and Samara standing away from the crowd when we heard people in the elevator. I thought they were trying to steal time together when really, she was confiding in him a horrendous secret. The thought makes me ill. I’m such a jerk.
“I think you need to tell the authorities,” I say. “He deserves to be in jail.”
Samara nods. “Except then they’ll probably send me to foster care. My mom will follow that loser. She’s already chosen him over me.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing when
she’s high,” I say. The truth is, I know nothing about drugs and addiction and how they make people act.
“She’s not high all the time,” Samara says. “And she still chooses him.”
“That’s why he needs to be out of the picture.”
“The court will make my mom go to rehab.” She tightens her ponytail and wipes her face again.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not if I get put into foster care,” Samara cries. I see how tricky this is — how doing the right thing isn’t always so easy.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again. This time Samara softens and leans toward me. I pull her in for a hug. My heart pounds so quickly and loudly I wonder if she can feel it against her.
She puts her head against my shoulder and I smell her coconut and honey shampoo again. My stomach does a million little flops.
“She wasn’t always this kind of mom,” Samara says. She’s sniffling and hiccupping. “Once upon a time she baked cookies and read me stories and acted like a real mom.”
My mind flashes again to my mom and how fortunate I am.
“My dad died when I was eleven, and it all went downhill from there. I could barely get my mom out of bed for months and then when I did, she started staying out late and hanging out with partiers. Without my parents, the law firm fell apart. All it took was a couple of years and she’s turned into a completely different person.”
I squeeze her against me like Peter squeezes Mildred to assure her she’s safe. Samara seems to relax into me a bit.
“Then I’m sure you’ll get her back,” I say.
“If she doesn’t kill herself first.” Samara’s voice turns bitter. “I’m so angry at her. For making me lose two parents. Even if she wasn’t the one who died, I still lost her. And then Alec …” Samara chokes on her words and begins to sob again.
I can’t imagine what this girl has been through and how broken she must feel inside.
“If I find that guy …” I start. My fists clench — an automatic response.
“It’s not your battle to fight,” Samara tells me through her tears.
“But I care about you. And no one should have to go through that. He deserves to be punished for the things he’s done,” I say through clenched teeth. “Look … whatever it takes, I will help you. I’ll be there for you in any way that I can.”
“Zach, we hardly know each other,” Samara says, sighing.
“What do you mean? Hasn’t the last day felt more like a lifetime? We’ve already slept under the same roof, had our meals together … it’s like we’re roomies.”
Samara lets out a little laugh. The sound makes my soul dance. I love to see this girl smiling and happy.
“I guess,” she says. “It definitely feels like we’ve known each other for far longer.”
“Nothing like a natural disaster to bring two people together,” I say, but then stop quickly. No one has said anything about the two of us becoming a couple. “Sorry. I mean, as friends. You know,” I stammer.
Samara nods and pulls away from me. Even in the dim light from my flashlight down at my side, I can see she looks upset. I immediately regret my words. There’s no way she wants to be a couple. I’m dreaming.
“But seriously, I’ll be there for you. Through this. Through whatever. That’s what friends are for,” I add for good measure.
Samara stands up and brushes off her skirt. “We should get back.”
I look for the emergency light by the steel door and beat her to it. I pull the door open for her.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. Under the emergency light, her face looks sad. I follow her in and watch as she bounds up the stairs into the darkness, most likely to be as alone as she can in these circumstances. But I have to follow her up. Cooper is still missing and it’s time to make things right with him, too.
TIP #13
There’s always a rainbow after every storm
I’ve lost track of Samara by the time I reach the top, but I leave her to whatever quiet spot she’s found in the darkness and I press on. I need to find Cooper. The metal door clicks shut behind me. A distinct rumbling sound fills the air and makes the hair on my skin stand up. I’ve got to find Cooper before this storm goes full intensity on us. I spin around. My flashlight illuminates a figure. It’s Cooper. I’m hoping he’ll head back into the stairwell with me now that he’s had some time away. Cooper’s a pretty level-headed, easy-going guy; he’s not one to get angry generally. I’ve never seen him as angry as this, except when Josh Logan’s name comes up. Cooper knows what Josh Logan is capable of, and to say he’s not a fan of the guy would be an understatement. He’s about the only thing I’ve seen Cooper lose his temper over. Knowing that Cooper is just as angry with me right now really sucks.
We’ve always had a really solid friendship. The kind that feels worn-in and comfortable. He’s been my best friend for so many years I can’t even remember how it all started. I was an idiot to accuse him of wanting Samara.
“Coop!” My voice cracks with emotion.
He doesn’t respond or acknowledge me. Instead, he ducks behind me and pushes open the stairwell door. Even if it’s not the time to make things right with him, I am flooded with relief. I want to get back to the safety of the stairwell, considering how loud this storm sounds. I follow him in.
“Get in here!” Rory says when he sees us.
A high-pitched whistling sound echoes from a distance. “What’s that?” I ask, of no one in particular. We all concentrate on the noise. At first it sounds like a train barrelling down tracks but then the sound builds. It grows louder and closer. “Boys, we need to head down. NOW.” Rory pulls Cooper and me down the stairs, closer to the where rest of the group is huddled.
We all move lower, pressing closer to each other. The people in the first staircase squish in to make room for those of us moving down from above. The smells of our unwashed bodies and our fear meld together.
The sound becomes a gigantic roar — like a wild animal, hungry and unleashed. It becomes so deafening that we have to cover our ears. The walls start to shake. The noise makes my chest pound.
“Take cover!” someone yells, but it’s faint against the clatter above us. My ears pop as a sound like a CF-18 jet screams over our heads. We all crouch down with our arms over our heads as the wind hammers the building. The screech of twisted metal sends shivers down my spine. The stairwell door upstairs bursts open and bangs loudly against the wall above. From my vantage point near the top of the lower staircase, I can see the glass ceiling through the upper doorway. There’s a big jagged hole in the roof, the sky above framed by pointy shards of glass. I catch a glimpse of dim daylight: a slate-coloured sky that churns like a washing machine drum and flashes shades of an eerie light green.
I think I see other things flying about through the second floor, maybe glass or building materials but I can’t be sure and I don’t want to keep looking. It’s the tornado, I realize. It’s blowing this place apart before my eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut and fling myself over Cooper, terrified that something might happen to him. I’m disoriented, as though the world has been turned on its axis. The steel door above flaps back and forth wildly, and I look one more time to see a rainbow of things swirling in the air. I grip Cooper and the stair rail with all of my might. We could be the next thing sucked up into the barrelling cell.
Showers of glass and metal zip through the air; the metal snaps like toothpicks and careens into the swirl of darkness. I can no longer hear any of the people around us in the blare of the tornado; instead I say a silent prayer for all of them — hoping that everyone will stay sheltered from this annihilating storm.
Then, in a move of unimaginable force, the steel door is torn from its hinges and disappears into the swirling vortex. There is nothing but a flight of stairs between us and the mouth of this pressurized monster. The possibility of death dances around me like I’ve come upon the final boss, an evil lord haunting me. There’s no thrill to be had here
— only a terror that seizes me and leaves me breathless.
A piece of metal comes flying at me from the second floor, just missing my head. The roof has been blown clear, leaving us exposed to the storm’s relentless beating. If it weren’t for George making us take refuge here in the stairwell, we might have been sucked up like ragdolls. I realize I don’t even know where he is; he’s got to be lower down on the stairs somewhere with the others. I just hope that he’s still with us.
I’m caught between not wanting to see what’s happening and not being able to tear my eyes off of what’s unfolding before me. Being in the mouth of this beast and knowing that I’m at the mercy of its grip — an iron-clad fist that I have no choice but to surrender to — makes me feel infinitely small and vulnerable. This is how humans come to understand that they are no match for Mother Nature. Stunning and exacting in her abilities, her force is formidable.
I glance down the stairwell. Heads are bowed and arms clutch the handrail; this metal piece feels like the only thing keeping us from being sucked into the dark abyss above us. If the roof can blow off, then surely the screws keeping the handrail in place barely stand a chance. My back is seizing from hanging on so tight. The wind is so strong it makes the skin on my face flap. To distract myself I think of how my dog, Jasper, loves to stick his head out of the car window and feel his jowls flap in the wind. I want to cover my ears but I don’t dare move my hands. Instead I try to go deep within myself to a place where everything feels quiet and peaceful. That place where a voice tells me that it will all be okay. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to concentrate, but all I can think about is whether or not I’m going to be swept away. The air is literally screaming around us. Tears prick my eyelids as my arms throb from holding on so tight.
And then — like a vacuum is switched off — everything that was being sucked and tossed comes crashing down. It rains down to the ground like a mixed salad of debris. Wood and metal and glass pelt the stairs above me and bounce toward me. I tense up to brace for the impact but most things narrowly miss me. A long shard of glass makes a straight shot down the stairs and bounces off the wall, slicing me across the arm. I feel a sharp sting.
The Gamer's Guide to Getting the Girl Page 11
