It’s gloomy out, gray and cloudy, the way it’s been so many days this summer. There’s once again been talk of a storm moving up from the south, and it’s windy, the kind of wind that makes you want to pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your face.
I get that nervous feeling in my stomach, uneasy because my friends are mad and I’m not quite sure how to fix things. I push it away. This is Seagate Centennial Summer day! One hundred years of Seagate magic. I just know it’s going to bring out the best in everyone. I need to focus on that.
I’ve been avoiding the great lawn the past few days because I didn’t want to spoil the excitement of this moment. I didn’t want to see the carnival rides or booths half set up. I wanted to see them all perfect and ready to go. I wanted to witness the complete picture.
But what I see is not what I anticipated. What I see looks like complete chaos.
“Remy!” Mrs. Pursuit says, clearly as startled as I am. She’s in the process of quickly stuffing some materials into cardboard boxes and stacking them in one of the famous Seagate red wagons. “You shouldn’t be here now.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?” I look all around. The carnival rides are dismantled and pushed together in a corner of the lawn. Only a few booths are standing. The stage is gone. “What’s happening?”
“You haven’t heard?” she asks me.
This feels like a bad dream. But this time I know I’m awake.
“We’re evacuating Seagate.” She continues stacking the boxes. “Today.”
I look around. “We are? Why?”
She doesn’t look at me. She keeps packing and stacking, out of breath, as if she’s in some kind of imaginary competition. “The hurricane down south changed course. It’s coming directly here. Mandatory evacuation for everyone.”
“But the carnival! The Centennial,” I say. “I don’t get it.”
“I know, Remy.” She shakes her head and looks up at me finally. “But you need to get home. Go find your parents.”
Come to think of it, it was a little weird that my parents weren’t home this morning. I figured they were on one of their beach walks. But it’s pretty odd that they didn’t wake me up to tell me the bad news.
I text my friends as I run back home, but no one responds. Maybe they’re all too busy packing. Maybe they left last night and didn’t tell me? They’re all mad at me, but they would still want to say goodbye, wouldn’t they?
I run faster than I’ve ever run before. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Everything changed so quickly. Everything we had planned is now ruined.
I get home, and my parents are out on the front porch, waiting for me.
“What part of stay here and start packing didn’t you understand?” my dad asks me. He’s angry. He doesn’t get angry very often, so when he does, you definitely know it.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shows me the note. “We left this for you on the kitchen table.”
“I didn’t see it,” I tell them. “I had no idea what’s going on.”
I’m so consumed with my own thoughts that I can’t focus on anything my dad is telling me. Something about their going to get plywood planks to put over the windows. Sandbags. That’s where they were this morning. They thought I understood when they half woke me from a sound sleep, but I’d promptly drifted back off and had no idea.
He explains that there are extra ferries leaving the island.
But I don’t want extra ferries. I don’t want to leave.
I can’t leave Seagate knowing that Micayla and Claire are mad at me and that Bennett’s annoyed with me, too. And when everything’s still so confusing with Calvin.
And no Seagate Centennial Summer celebration. No carnival. What about the booths? The performers?
My dad continues. “A massive hurricane is brewing, coming up the coast. It looks like it will hit us directly in the next few days.”
“No. Come on. They always say stuff like that,” I explain. “Seriously. Nothing ever really happens. We don’t need to go.”
“It’s real, Rem,” my mom says. “It’s not safe to stay. Safety comes first.”
“What about the safety of Seagate? The houses? The stadium? Sundae Best?” I ask. “What’s going to happen to them?”
My dad goes on and on about precautions—plywood planks and technical stuff that’s too confusing to pay attention to.
“What about the year-rounders?” I ask them. “Where will they go?”
“There are shelters off-island,” my mom tells me. “They have places to go. All the emergency precautions are in place.”
“I can’t believe summer is ending in early August.”
My dad sighs. “Rem. We need to stay safe. That’s all that’s important.”
“But we planned the whole carnival,” I insist. “It was today. The Centennial Summer. All the performers. The booths. The rides.”
“I’m sorry,” my mom says. “No one is happy about this.”
“This isn’t fair! What about all our plans? All our hard work? Just for everything to fall apart?”
They sit quietly and look at each other, exasperated expressions on their faces.
“It’s not fair that Calvin and Claire’s parents have to get divorced! It’s not fair that my friendship with Bennett might change. It’s not fair that the dogs have had to spend most of the summer indoors!” I yell. “And now, out of nowhere, we’re leaving today? I don’t get it.”
“None of us expected this, Remy,” my mom says. “We thought it would blow over. And it sounds like you’ve had more than a storm to worry about this summer.”
I nod sadly, and she comes to put an arm around me. Which helps a little.
“So now what?” I ask.
“Pack your stuff, Rem,” my dad says. “I want to be on the two o’clock ferry.”
“I gotta go find my friends,” I say. “I need to say goodbye.”
“Remy, please,” my mom begs. “I don’t want you running around outside. It’s pouring.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell them on the way out.
“No, Remy!” My dad raises his voice. “You’re staying home. Enough is enough.”
I run up to my room and fall onto my bed. Within minutes, my pillowcase is drenched in tears. Seagate could be ruined forever, and there’s not a single thing any of us can do about it.
We pack up as much as we can and head to the ferry. The intense rain and wind have already caused power outages and downed wires.
It looks as if the entire island is crying. The store signs look sad. The houses look gloomy. Even the Adirondack chairs look as if they’re in mourning.
I want to apologize to everything on Seagate—all the buildings, the boardwalk, and the residents, furry and otherwise. I’m so sorry we couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry we’re leaving you here all alone.
I go to check my phone to see if I’ve heard from anyone, and that’s when I realize my phone battery has run down. There’s no way to charge it now.
I pray that my friends will be taking the same ferry as we are, but I have no way to be sure. I don’t even know where Micayla and her family will go. And I don’t know if Calvin and Claire are going back home or to their dad’s new place in Manhattan.
Calvin and I didn’t get to run our booth. We didn’t even get to spend any time together.
I search for my friends through the raindrops. But I don’t see them. I don’t see anyone I know. Not even Mrs. Pursuit. Or Josh and the Improvimaniacs.
Did they take an earlier ferry?
I lug my wheelie suitcase up the ferry steps and sit down in the first seat I see. I cover my eyes with the hood of my sweatshirt. I can’t watch this. I can’t say goodbye. I can’t believe I’m leaving Seagate when all my friends are mad at me and I have no idea when I’ll see them again.
“Remy!” someone yells. I blink and pull back my hood.
“Remy! We can’t find Lester!”
&nb
sp; His owner-mom is shaking, crying. “Do you have any idea where he might be? We were packing up the house, and we had everything and everyone, and then he was gone!”
I need to think fast.
“Please, Remy. Do you have any idea?”
I think back to our many days spent at rainy-day headquarters. At Dog Beach. Where did Lester most like to go? He liked to steal breakfast sandwiches and take them to the bookstore, but no one is eating any breakfast now for him to steal. He liked that sunny corner in the lobby of the old Seagate Hotel, but he wouldn’t be able to get in. Wait! What if Lester went to the hotel, and he’s sitting outside, getting soaked in the rain?
“I think I know!” I yell. “Follow me!”
“Remy, what are you thinking?” my mom asks. “Sit down this minute.”
“We can’t leave without Lester,” I explain.
“Sit down right now, young lady,” my dad says.
They yell, but I don’t listen.
Sometimes in life you don’t have a choice. You have to do what you have to do. I jump off my seat and run to the ferry driver. “I need ten minutes,” I say. “It’s a missing-dog emergency.”
He raises an eyebrow but then shows a hint of a smile. “Ten minutes,” he says. “I had a dog once. I understand. But I can’t give you a minute more.”
“Thank you!” I cry.
“Ten minutes, Remy,” my mom says.
I nod. “We’ll make it.” Lester’s owner-mom and I sprint across the island. The rain pelts our faces. Our clothes are as soaked as if we’d just jumped into the ocean. We run past Breakfast by the Boardwalk, past Mornings, past Frederick’s Fish, past the stadium.
Everything is boarded up. Everything is closed. I don’t know how it’s possible for a place that always looks so happy to look so completely sad.
Please be there, Lester. Please be where I think you are.
I peek into a window of the old Seagate Hotel, just in case he’s somehow gotten inside. Nope.
I look around the building. No sign of him. Where could he be? I think of poor Lester tugging on his leash, trying to break free. And I wonder what makes him so sad all the time, so restless.
I remember how happy he was singing along with Larry Park, as if he were born to perform classical music, barking along so sweetly. And then it hits me. The music. The beautiful classical music.
“There’s one more place we need to check,” I tell her.
His owner-mom looks at me hopefully.
When we get there, the store is boarded up. The one-dollar-books cart is gone.
I go to look under the bench, but the bench is gone.
Of course Mr. Aprone wouldn’t leave a wooden bench outside during a hurricane.
But right there, huddled in a ball, exactly where the bench used to be, is Lester.
“Lester!” his owner-mom says. “Lester, Lester, Lester.” She scoops him up and covers him with hugs and kisses. She says his name over and over again.
“How did you know he’d be here?”
“Lester loves the classical music Mr. Aprone plays in Novel Ideas. That’s the reason he runs away all the time—he wants to listen to the music. Did you know that he loves to sing, too?”
She smiles and hugs the cocker spaniel, so relieved that he’s safe. “Lester does love to sing. He always used to bark along when my daughter played piano … but now the piano is gone. I guess there hasn’t been much reason for him to sing lately. From now on, there’s going to be a lot more music in the house.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” I reach down and hug Lester, too. “Come on—we gotta go,” I tell her.
Together, we sprint back to the ferry. Our ten minutes are almost up.
“Remy, are you okay?” my mom asks.
“Remy found him,” Lester’s owner-mom says. “She found Lester!”
“He wasn’t lost,” I say. “He knew we’d come and get him. He knew we’d know where to find him.”
“I’m proud of you for finding the dog, Remy,” my dad says, “but running off at a time like this was not the smart thing to do. We were so worried.”
It sounds as if he’s talking about Lester, but he’s talking about me.
“I can’t believe no one’s on our ferry,” I tell my mom when my parents take a break from lecturing me. “And my phone battery died. I never said goodbye to anyone.”
“It’s okay, Rem.” She rubs my back. “You’ll call them when we get back to the city. Everyone was rushing around, and there wasn’t time for phone calls.”
“What about Micayla?” I ask. “Where are the Walcotts going? Shouldn’t we have offered to let them come with us? What if—”
She interrupts me. “The Walcotts are okay. They’re going with the Newhouses. They’ll ride out the storm in Boston.”
I’m jolted by the thought of Mic staying with Bennett’s family. “Really?”
She nods. I know she doesn’t understand why this is a big deal. And I don’t want to be the one to explain it to her. All that really matters is that Micayla and her family are safe, but Micayla should be with me.
I look out the ferry window as Seagate Island gets farther and farther away. I just hope it’s not forever. Not knowing is, once again, the worst part.
Marilyn Monroe sits on my lap, and I hug her as tightly as I possibly can.
“Maybe they’re on this ferry,” I say to my mom a few minutes later. “Just because we didn’t see them getting on doesn’t mean they’re not here.”
She nods again. “Maybe.”
Even my mom seems nervous. She’s quiet. In fact, the whole boat is quiet. People don’t say much during very stressful times. Maybe it’s because they’re too busy worrying to talk.
“I’m gonna walk around and look for them,” I say. I put Marilyn Monroe on my mom’s lap. “Be back soon.”
I look all over the boat. I keep thinking that I see Micayla and Bennett. I keep praying that I’ll see them. Maybe if I imagine them on this boat, they’ll be here.
But they’re not.
In a way, I want to stay on this boat forever. I want to cling to it, because it’s the only little bit of Seagate Island I have right now.
I know that eventually we’ll get off the boat, and eventually the storm will end. But what I don’t know is if my friends will ever talk to me again.
My mom puts her arm around me when I return to our seats. “I’m sorry all of this is happening,” she says.
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “You can’t control the weather.”
“That’s true. I can’t control the weather,” she agrees.
“How can we just go on like normal when everything feels so shaky? So uncertain?” I ask her.
“Because we don’t have a choice. We can only do the best we can.”
I look at her. She pets Marilyn Monroe and squeezes my arm.
“But how can we do the best we can when everything feels so scary?” I ask her.
“You’re already doing the best you can, Rem.” She raises her eyebrows. “You found Lester. I’m not pleased that you ran off in the rain, but even though the situation was scary, you trusted your instincts, and you made a choice. You did what you thought was right.”
“Oh.” I look down at my muddy flip-flops.
“That’s how we get through the tough times,” she tells me. “By doing what we know is right, and trusting that eventually things will be okay.”
I rest my head on her shoulder. She smells like the ocean and sunscreen and the orange lotion she rubs on her hands every night before bed.
“Don’t shower when we get home,” I tell her.
“Why not?”
“I want you to smell like the beach for as long as you possibly can,” I explain.
She smiles.
We get back to Manhattan, and it’s raining there, too. The whole East Coast is being slammed, but some areas are safer than others.
Our apartment is hot and stuffy, as if someone pumped as much sticky air
into it as they possibly could and then locked all the doors and sealed all the windows. Being back in the city in August just feels wrong.
Three days later, it feels like forever. I don’t know how long we have to stay here; that in and of itself is unsettling.
But there’s one tiny silver lining.
I charged my phone as soon as I got home. And when I did, a bunch of texts popped up.
From Bennett: Be safe, Rem. See you soon. And in case you’re wondering, of course we’re still friends. Always.
From Claire: Even though you like my brother, I still love you. Agh. Why aren’t you answering your phone? Call me pleaaaaasssseeeee.
From Micayla: Where are you?!? Stop ignoring me. I’ve called you seventeen times. I love you. I hope you’re safe!
From Calvin: I wanted to say goodbye. Hope we’re back on SGI very soon. Maybe we can do the wedding booth next year.
People do come together when disaster strikes. People let go of their grudges when there are more important things to worry about. I left Seagate fearing that everyone was mad at me, but what I learned is that they all really cared. So we’ve all been texting back and forth and updating one another every day.
Claire and Calvin are in Westchester, but if we get word that it’s safe to go back to Seagate, they’re going to beg to come back with their grandfather.
Claire’s back to being the social planner for her friends at home. She says it keeps her mind off the sad stuff. And Calvin’s trying to sell some of his old video games on eBay. He wants to raise money in case Seagate needs help getting back up and running.
Micayla and Bennett are doing okay in Boston, though she says it’s awkward to see so much of him. She says he forgets she’s around and eats breakfast in his underwear. So she pretty much keeps to herself there, reading on the porch.
It’s funny how a person can be so different depending on where they are or who they’re with.
But that’s probably what makes life interesting. That we’re not all the same all the time.
How boring would that be?
I’m lying on the couch, daydreaming about what it would be like if Calvin and Claire were in Manhattan right now, when my mom comes back from the grocery store.
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