The Boy and Girl Who Broke the World

by Amy Reed

  “What are you doing?” screams Kayla or Kaitlyn or Katelyn from school, who’s sitting in the passenger seat half naked holding a guinea pig in a cage on her lap. Then Graylon or Grayson or Braydon, who is shirtless in the driver’s seat, is like, “Hey, aren’t you Caleb Sloat?” and then he squeals in a high-pitched voice, “Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod, I am your biggest fan!” and Caleb just puts the thrashing old man in their backseat and closes the door and runs to the next house.

  It’s slow going with all the traffic trying to get away from the coast and having to dodge the abandoned cars and their passengers stranded next to them in a foot of water with hopeless looks on their faces. Ruth starts knocking on the windows of trucks that still have empty beds. “You better fill up with people and bring them to higher ground,” she commands, pointing the gun between the drivers’ eyes, her voice low and growling, surprisingly intimidating for someone who’s barely tall enough to see into the windows. “And when you’re done, you come back and you keep coming back until you can’t come back no more. If you don’t, God will know, and I will know, and I will find you, and you’ll be sorry.”

  I simultaneously want to cry and hug her and kiss her and run away and throw up.

  I’m pretty sure this is what falling in love feels like.

  We are exhausted by the time the road finally starts going uphill. We climb into the van and Larry turns off the radio, but I think the announcer guy’s voice has left a permanent scar on my brain because I can still hear it, along with the blaring siren and the ringing in my ears.

  I stand on my knees in the backseat, looking out the rear window at the view of all the people behind us. By now the trail following us is blocks long, a combination of cars, trucks, bicycles, kayaks, animals, people, someone in a cape riding a white horse with a unicorn horn strapped to its head, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Fog Harbor residents and fans of Unicorns vs. Dragons and Rainy Day Knife Fight, following a van full of weirdos with a giant dragon head painted on the side to safety.

  Lydia puts her arm around me and looks out the window too. It may be the end of the world, but it feels good to have my best friend back.

  “I love parades,” I say.

  “I know you do,” she says, and squeezes.

  LYDIA

  “WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE GREAT flood?” Billy asks Ruth as we make the slow ascent into Rome Hills. “Was everyone okay? Did they rebuild and stuff?”

  “The waters took a while to recede,” Ruth says. “But then there was a brave new world to conquer, so all the people and animals spread out and made more people and animals. Then God invented rainbows.”

  “That’s a nice story,” Billy says.

  “I guess,” Ruth says. “But it’s just a story. God also said He’d never make it flood again. But He lied.”

  “But the King did this,” Billy says, “not God.”

  “What are you idiots talking about back there?” Billy’s grandma says. For once, we’re probably on the same side.

  “God made it flood because He realized He made a mistake and humans were evil and needed to be destroyed,” Ruth says matter-of-factly.

  We’re all quiet. No one can really argue with that.

  The van smells a little like wet cat, but things could definitely be worse. Gordon keeps blubbering in the backseat about how good it is to see Caleb, and Caleb’s just nodding calmly like some monk. Ruth has finally put the shotgun down. I can tell Billy’s trying really hard not to stare at her, but he sneaks little glances, and each one looks like he’s getting ready to propose marriage. Larry’s keeping his eyes on the road while Billy’s grandma munches on the last of the glove compartment snacks.

  What a bunch of amazing, wonderful losers we are.

  What if we’re the only ones who make it? What if Larry’s van is the ark?

  The thought makes me shudder.

  Traffic starts thinning the higher we get as people pull off on side roads, taking over the quiet streets full of perfect views of whatever’s coming. But we’re not taking any chances. We’re going straight to the top.

  “Natalie lives down that street,” I say. “I bet she’s all safe and warm in her house with her family, drinking tea and watching all this on TV.”

  “Do you want us to drop you off at her house?” Billy says. He looks at me hopefully, holding his breath.

  I smile. “Nah,” I say. “If I’m going to drown in the great flood, I want to do it with you.”

  When we get to the top of the hill, there are already a few cars lined up and pointed toward the ocean, like they’re getting ready to watch Fourth of July fireworks instead of their whole lives getting washed away.

  “Park the van right under that ladder,” I tell Larry. “And give me your phone.” I quickly text Natalie where we are.

  “Are we going up there?” Ruth says.

  “Just like old times,” Gordon blubbers.

  “No one’s making me go up there,” Grandma says. “You all can fall to your deaths. That’s fine with me.”

  “I’ll stay in the van with you,” says Larry.

  “I never said I needed company.”

  “Larry just saved your life, Grandma,” Billy says. “Stop being an asshole.”

  I’ve never been so proud of him.

  His grandma just looks at him in shock, and Caleb starts laughing like a maniac. And then Gordon starts laughing. And then Ruth. And for a tiny split second, I almost feel sorry for the nasty old woman, but then she smiles and starts laughing too.

  I guess something about the world ending makes people act a little out of character.

  Maybe the world should end more often.

  BILLY

  HERE WE ARE SITTING ON the water tower, waiting for a tsunami. It stopped raining as soon as we got here. Maybe the weather decided to give us a little break before things get really wet.

  “Do you think it’s going to get us up here?” Gordon says, still holding on to his teddy bear.

  “Who knows,” Lydia says. “None of us are tsunami experts.”

  Birds keep flying overhead, and a bunch of deer and raccoons run by under us. There are mice and rats everywhere. More people keep coming, some in cars, many on foot.

  “Does anyone have any snacks?” Lydia says. “I’m starving.”

  “Billy’s grandma ate them all,” says Ruth. Somehow, she managed to climb the ladder while holding the shotgun. Good thing I’m so cold, or I might have to deal with hiding a boner, and I really don’t think I could handle that right now.

  “Caleb, man,” Gordon says, staring at the graffiti on the side of the water tower, “did you see all this stuff?”

  Caleb nods quietly without turning to look. He’s staring out at the sea. Besides his laughing outburst in the van, he hasn’t said anything in a long time.

  We could die any minute. Maybe now is a good time to talk about stuff.

  “Hey, Caleb?” I say. I’m sitting next to him on the narrow platform. We’re all in a row—Gordon, Caleb, then me in the middle, then Lydia and Ruth.

  “What’s up?” he says, still staring out at the horizon, like he doesn’t want to miss the first sign of the wave.

  The sky has almost completely cleared in the few minutes we’ve been up here. Just a few wispy clouds remain, and the rest is dazzling blue. It’s so different from the last time Lydia and I were up here, when we were swallowed up by white, when we couldn’t see anything. We were weightless then, floating. Today, even though I’m a hundred feet in the air, I feel closer to the ground than I’ve felt in a long time.

  “I’ve been wondering something for a long time,” I say. “In all the interviews you’ve done, how come you never mentioned me?”

  Caleb turns to me now. His blue eyes look into mine with surprise.

  “I guess I was just wondering why,” I say. “Because it kind of hurt my feelings. You pretending I didn’t exist.”

  After a pause, Caleb says, “That wasn’t it.” He shakes his head, like he’s
trying to dislodge something in there. “That wasn’t it at all. I was trying to protect you.”

  Suddenly, everything is silent. Birds stop chirping. The world is holding its breath, waiting for something.

  “I gave them everything,” Caleb says, “but I was never going to give them you. You weren’t a part of those stories. You were the one good thing.”

  A single tear falls down his cheek, and I hear a sound like the whole earth roaring.

  LYDIA

  THE OCEAN TRANSFORMS. FIRST THE sea goes out, sucking water away from the shore, revealing the rocky ocean floor. Then the sea rises in smooth, undulating waves out to the horizon.

  “Holy shit!” Natalie says, suddenly with us. Ruth scoots over to make room beside me.

  “You came,” I say as Natalie sits next to me on the platform, warm relief dissolving my fear. For a moment, I forget why we are here. For a moment, Natalie is the reason for everything.

  “Of course I did,” she says. “My parents kept praying. It was driving me crazy.”

  “Tell me about it,” Ruth says, cradling the shotgun in her lap with something like affection.

  Then the waves start.

  The first waves obliterate the shoreline, sending water inland, smashing the lines of beachfront vacation cabins and hotels. The already full river spills water everywhere, and the harbor swells and explodes all over downtown Rome. The waves keep coming, water quickly creeping further and further inland, adding inches, then feet, to the already flooded streets.

  But those waves were just practice.

  Natalie grabs my hand as we watch what’s coming—a wall of water at least twice as tall as the tallest building in Rome, barreling toward the shore in slow motion, getting taller and taller the closer it gets. A sound like a freight train drowns out the emergency siren.

  And then the beach is gone. Completely gone. Docks and buildings are smashed into kindling. Cars float inland like boats. The ocean swallows Rome and Carthage block by block, erasing entire neighborhoods, pulling down the wooden houses in Criminal Fields as if they were built with toothpicks.

  “There goes my house,” Billy says.

  “Mine, too,” says Ruth.

  “I’m so sorry,” says Natalie.

  “I never liked it that much anyway,” Ruth says.

  “There goes Larry’s bar,” I say. Natalie wraps me inside her arms.

  Caleb has his arm around Gordon, who is weeping, inconsolable. Ruth stares out at the scene blankly. Natalie is pressed up against me, silent tears running down her face, holding on to me so tightly, I am almost not cold.

  The water comes and comes. Cars bob around like they’re weightless. Even up here, I can hear the sound of all the debris smashing into itself. All those homes, turned into driftwood that will get sucked out to sea and wash up on someone else’s shore.

  I don’t see any people, but who knows how many are hidden, still stuck inside houses and cars? Who knows how many we didn’t save? Who knows how many lives are being lost at this very moment, how many people did not hear the siren, did not have smartphones to tell them what to do, did not turn on their TVs or radios for the emergency broadcast? How many did not have vehicles to get away, did not have friends or family who thought to save them? How many were simply forgotten?

  And how many knew perfectly well what was happening but chose to stay anyway? How many thought going down with the only world they’ve ever known was better than trying to start a new one?

  As far as I can see, Fog Harbor County is covered with water. The sturdiest buildings poke out. Fog Harbor High is, unfortunately, still standing. The prison. BigMart. Even a tsunami can’t destroy those.

  The waves keep pulsing through the flatlands of Criminal Fields, crashing into the base of the hill. We are safe up here on our island. How’d we get so lucky? What gives us the right to survive when so many will not?

  I look at Natalie. She is so beautiful when she’s crying. She’s so beautiful, always.

  Why do I even get to think that right now? Why do I get the privilege of loving her?

  And even though this is probably one of the least romantic moments in history, even though so many lives are being ruined and lost, even though we’re surrounded by weirdos on top of a water tower and I don’t know what’s going to happen and I feel scared about everything, I figure, what the hell? You only live through the end of the world once.

  I look into Natalie’s deep brown eyes. I see them crinkle at the sides in a smile. I lean in and feel the world expanding as my lips touch hers. I feel everything pulse open and wash clean, and I think, this is what it feels like to be limitless and on top of the world.

  Then I hear crying. Natalie pulls away gently, and we both look down to see a girl in soaking wet sweatpants, a Rainy Day Knife Fight T-shirt, no shoes, thick black eye makeup running down her face. She must have swum to get here. She must have hiked barefoot up the entire hill. And now she’s just standing there, her entire body shaking with sobs.

  “Hey!” I call down to her. “It’s going to be okay.” And I think I actually believe it, because here we are, safe, and the world did not end today. The sky is blue and the sun is shining. I hear some birds starting to sing again. I just kissed the girl of my dreams, Billy’s been in love for at least half an hour, and Caleb’s alive and healthy. Maybe I’ve stopped needing to hate my mom so much, Larry’s turning out to be a pretty good dad, and I kicked the Winter Showcase’s ass. Sure, Criminal Fields has been sucked out to sea, but no one liked it much anyway, and what are we in Carthage and Rome but a bunch of survivors?

  The girl on the ground shakes her head. “You don’t understand,” she says. Her smile is so big, it makes the sun shine brighter. She’s staring straight at Caleb. “This is the best day of my life!” she cries. I guess it’s all about perspective.

  Then Gordon says, “Now what?” and nobody knows how to answer.

  EPILOGUE

  BILLY

  A LOT HAS HAPPENED SINCE the tsunami.

  First of all, the King died. Around the same time the tsunami was obliterating the entire west coast, he was killed instantly in a freak accident at one of his ski resorts involving a falling icicle straight through the heart. Larry’s convinced unicorns had something to do with it. Grandma thinks it was the Canadians.

  The good news is his bomb missed the island target by several hundred miles. The guy flying the plane claims it was an accident, but no one believes him. No one accidentally bombs the exact spot in the ocean that’ll do the least amount of harm. The United Nations wants to give him some kind of big medal. They might even let the US back in as a member soon.

  It’s July now, and the population of Fog Harbor has already decreased by 37 percent. The majority of those who left were people who had been threatening it for years but never quite got their acts together. Nothing like having everything you own wash out to sea to motivate you to start over somewhere else. Gordon went to Tacoma to start a video game store with his insurance money, which, according to Caleb, is something he’d been talking about doing since they were eight years old.

  Some environmentally conscious building company bought a big chunk of Criminal Fields and started construction on a bunch of little communities made out of recycled materials, with organic gardens and free bicycles and solar panels and electric vehicle charging stations, and all these artists and people who can’t afford to live in Seattle anymore are buying them up, sight unseen. Everyone keeps talking about how Fog Harbor is going to be a big new tech hub, and I’m not really sure what that means, but it’s probably better than a bunch of unemployed people sitting around being grumpy waiting for trees to grow back.

  FEMA bought all the foreclosed mansions on the hill for cheap and put all the displaced people in them because it was less expensive than bringing in trailers. Grandma and I are sharing one with Lydia and Larry and a doomsday-prepper family who immediately turned the wine cellar into a panic room. They’ve been surprisingly good housemates. Rut
h is staying with us too. The paperwork to make her an emancipated minor went through pretty quickly. People tend to expedite those things when one of your parents has been deemed criminally insane by a federal judge and the other one ran off to join a cult. The only bummer is that Grandma said Ruth has to sleep on the other side of the house because hanky-panky will not be tolerated, which is ridiculous because walking down the hall at night is hardly a deterrent when you’re highly motivated, which we are. It’s not even like we spend all our time doing hanky-panky (though that is a large percentage of what we do). It’s like we’re making up for lost time after a whole lifetime of never being touched or listened to. So we do a lot of both of those things.

  Ruth and I are making plans to move to Olympia together in the fall. She insists on bringing the shotgun, and I am totally okay with that. Maybe I’ll even learn how to use it. Neither of us really knows what we want to do with our lives, but that’s not something either of us have ever really thought about, so I don’t know, we’re just going to spend some time thinking about it. We’re not in too much of a hurry.

  Caleb’s at some silent meditation retreat in Thailand. He’s deciding if he wants to be a monk or a folk singer. He said the best way to stop running from himself was to be forced to sit still for a while, and Lydia rolled her eyes and told him to save the poetry for song lyrics.

  Larry and Grandma joined forces and are starting a company together that will focus on Unicorns vs. Dragons–related stuff, because apparently Grandma’s been converted into a superfan and has lost interest in exploiting her son’s fame. They just signed a lease for a small building that was miraculously unharmed in the floods, and Larry got a no-interest loan from Caleb to buy a bunch of Unicorns vs. Dragons–themed merchandise wholesale, so they’re going to run a combination gift shop/tour company. They’re also thinking of staying in the big house together after we all leave. I like to joke to Lydia that we might be siblings soon, but that always makes her punch me.