The World Ends in April

by Stacy McAnulty

  Then Grandpa Joe tries to demonstrate for Mack.

  “I always say I could tie twenty different types of knot with my eyes closed. But this is the first time I’m going to actually try.” Grandpa Joe and Mack both laugh. I’m not in the mood. We practice our knots until Mrs. Jefferson’s Volvo pulls into the driveway.

  “Guess that’s it for today, Private Mack.” Grandpa Joe gathers up his rope.

  “Thank you, sir,” Mack says, and they shake hands.

  Then I guide Mack to the car. He thinks he needs to make a decision about his future. But 2010PL7 has already decided the future for him, for me, for all of us.

  Mack doesn’t mention his meeting with the kid from Conrad, and I don’t ask about it. I’m too busy preparing for the next Nature Club meeting, which requires sacrifices like skipping math homework and ignoring my brothers. After the asteroid crashes, I’ll be spending all my time with Edward and Phillip—not by choice—and I already know enough math to survive an apocalypse.

  At lunch on Wednesday, I scribble a few last thoughts in my dinosaur notebook.

  “Why so quiet?” Mack asks.

  “I’m just thinking about the meeting.”

  “Shh. We aren’t supposed to talk about you know what,” he whispers.

  “I didn’t say what meeting. You did.” I close my notebook. Today we’re going to focus on the first seventy-two hours after impact.

  “Does this mean I’m banned for life?”

  “Consider it a warning.” I open my chocolate pudding and lick the lid.

  “You can ban me just for today, because I’m not going to be there anyway.”

  “What?” I shout, and half the table looks at me.

  “Dude, calm down. I have swim tryouts.”

  “That’s Thursday,” I say.

  “Got switched.”

  “You have to go to Nature Club. I can’t—”

  “Ah! You said Nature Club! You’re banned.” He laughs.

  “Stop messing around, Mack.” I grab his arm and squeeze so he knows I’m serious. “Skip the tryouts. Have your parents write a note. There’s no way they won’t let you on the team. That would be discrimination or something.”

  “You stop messing around, Elle. I’m going to the tryouts.” He pushes my hand off his arm.

  The lights dim, giving us the five-minute warning. Mack doesn’t say anything else for the rest of lunch, and neither do I. There’s nothing left to say.

  After school, I walk into Mrs. Walsh’s room alone. Twelve kids are there, and none of them is my best friend. All afternoon, I was hoping he’d have a change of heart. Lately, his priorities seem out of whack. Swim team and Conrad aren’t important. Not now and not in the spring.

  Still, I’m ready. I have over ten pages of notes, and we only have an hour. Explaining the difference between a water filter and a water purifier could take half that time. I practiced my lesson last night in the mirror and timed myself. (I wonder if teachers do the same thing.) I think I can do this.

  Then I notice Londyn Diggs in the second row. Londyn I-Want-to-Ruin-Eleanor’s-Life Diggs! Maybe she has detention, because I can’t imagine why she’s here. Maybe to torture me. It’s not enough to do it in gym class. I’d run out right now if I could still catch my bus.

  Everyone is chatting in small groups. I take a seat by myself. I don’t know what to do. I pretend to play on my phone for about five minutes.

  “Eleanor?” Mrs. Walsh stands in front of me. “Are you ready to start the meeting?”

  “Mack’s not here,” I blurt out as an explanation.

  “I can see that.” She smiles. “You’re here. You’re in charge.”

  My stomach rolls over.

  “Do you want me to do something? I could call the meeting to order,” she offers.

  “No, I’ll do it.” This is too important to let Londyn ruin my meeting. I suck in a big breath. It does nothing to stop my legs from shaking.

  Mrs. Walsh retreats to the back office and leaves us alone. I walk to the front of the room where Mack stood at the last meeting.

  “Hey, um…I call this meeting of Nature Club to order.”

  “What’s this stupid club about?” Londyn asks, and one second after a call to order, I’m ready to adjourn.

  “You don’t know?” Spencer looks at Londyn and then at me.

  “I’m new. I want to hear it from her.” She points her black-painted fingernail at me.

  I freeze under her stare.

  “I could give the financial report,” Wyatt offers after a few agonizing silent seconds. “So far, we’ve taken in zero dollars and we’ve spent zero dollars.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Dominic says, rolling his eyes.

  “What’s this club about?” Londyn asks again, pausing between every word.

  “We want to learn about and celebrate nature.” I hold up my notebook. I wrote our fake motto on the cover in the sky above the dinosaurs. I thought it would keep prying eyes out if I had a boring description. “If that doesn’t interest you, feel free to go.”

  “Oh no, I’m very interested. And that’s not what this is about.” She smiles, and I expect to see fangs, but she has normal teeth.

  “Isn’t it a survivalist club?” one of the other new guys asks.

  There’s no point in denying it.

  “Shh.” I hold my finger to my mouth. “No, it’s not. Not officially.”

  “Who told you?” Dominic asks the kid.

  “Mack Jefferson,” the boy says.

  “And who told you?” I ask Londyn.

  She raises one eyebrow. “Mack Jefferson.” I don’t believe her.

  “No one can tell anyone else about this club, okay?” I stare at my hands. “And I’ll talk to Mack and make sure he keeps his trap shut. Let’s get started. The first seventy-two hours are critical. Obviously, you can’t survive a year if you don’t make it through the first three days. Let’s go over what we—”

  “Excuse me, Eleanor,” Spencer interrupts. “Shouldn’t we be telling everyone?”

  Izabell raises her hand. I point to her, and she speaks. “I told my cousin.” She shrugs.

  “They’ll find out soon enough,” I say. “At some point, the asteroid will be so close that NASA and other government agencies will have to say something. All the planetariums across the world will see it in their big telescopes. There will be a panic.” I twist my new paracord bracelet. It’s stiff and uncomfortable, like this meeting.

  “Won’t it be too late?” Spencer asks.

  “It might be,” Ajay answers. “Just last week, ATLAS spotted an asteroid over a thousand feet wide, and it will pass between Earth and the moon on Friday. That’s less than a ten-day warning. And no one spotted the Chelyabinsk asteroid that crashed in Siberia. It was—”

  “You’ve told us!” I cut Ajay off.

  “What is ATLAS?” Spencer asks.

  “It stands for Asteroid Terrestrial-impact Last Alert System. It’s in Hawaii.” Ajay pushes up his glasses and looks ready to give a longer lecture on terrestrial-impact systems.

  “Guys, stop. We’re not here for an astronomy lesson. That club can meet on Mondays. I agreed to show you some basic survival techniques. So you won’t be zombies.”

  “Zombies?” Dominic asks. His eyes are wide, and I can’t tell if he’s surprised or scared or excited.

  “There’s going to be zombies?” Spencer smiles like this is the best news he’s heard yet.

  Londyn laughs. “This is more messed up than I’d hoped.”

  “Not the undead kind of zombie. Not brain-eaters. A zombie is someone who isn’t prepared. It’s a silly nickname.” I guess these people aren’t spending hours watching prepper YouTube videos and training with their grandfather on weekends.

  Jade groans and takes out her
phone. I wonder if she’s bored or double-checking my information.

  I continue. “Ya know how in movies zombies walk around lost and basically are brainless idiots. That’s how we imagine the unprepared after TEOTWAWKI.”

  Most everyone looks confused, like I’m teaching algebra, except Spencer.

  “I know that one.” He practically jumps out of his chair. “The end of the world as we know it.” Maybe Spencer has a YouTube addiction too.

  “Yes.” This gives me an idea. “Maybe we should have a vocabulary lesson.” I decide to delay the seventy-two-hour discussion.

  Spencer pulls out his composition notebook. “Great!”

  “Okay. You know zombies are the unprepared who will be the lost souls after TEOTWAWKI. Then there’s SHTF.”

  I look around to see if anyone wants to guess what it means. Nope.

  “The PG version is stuff hits the fan.”

  Londyn announces to everyone what the R-rated version is.

  “Thanks, I think we could’ve figured that out,” I say without looking at her.

  “What else?” Spencer asks. If this were a class, he’d be the annoying student who asks for more homework and interrupts the teacher with interesting facts every two seconds.

  I open my dinosaur notebook. I’ve been jotting down acronyms as I learn them, but I don’t have an official list.

  “WROL. That stands for without rule of law. It’s basically a world without laws.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Dominic says. He leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head.

  “Don’t be stupid!” I snap.

  Dominic flinches.

  “Sorry. I’m not talking about rules like no bedtime or homework. There won’t be police to arrest thieves or even murderers. No one will be running the jails. It’ll be chaos. It’ll be scary.”

  “What’s going to happen to the police?” Ajay asks.

  “It’s going to be every family for themselves,” I say.

  “Or everyone for herself,” Londyn adds. She chews on one of her blackened nails.

  “The police will be home taking care of their own families. No one will go to their jobs because no one will be getting paid.” I don’t know why they can’t imagine the world after the asteroid.

  Everyone looks serious. Maybe I’m finally getting through to them.

  “Next,” I say. “BOB is for bug-out bag. You should have three days’ worth of supplies packed and ready to go. BOL is bug-out location. If your primary shelter is destroyed, where are you going to go? MAG is mutual aid group.”

  “Slow down,” Spencer says as he scribbles in his composition notebook.

  “We don’t need to know all this,” Londyn says. “Definitions aren’t going to save anyone.”

  “No…but, um, it’s helpful, I think.” I hate that I sound like a little kid.

  She throws her head back and gives an evil, cartoon-villain laugh.

  I twist my bracelet again and again until my wrist burns. She notices.

  “What’s that for?”

  “It’s a paracord bracelet,” I mumble.

  “I know that! Why do you need it at school? Are you going to pitch a tent? Make a tourniquet? Totally useless. I can’t believe anyone would listen to you.” Londyn puts her feet on the desk. Her black combat boots land with a thud.

  My face burns and my throat dries up. I should kick her out or tell her off or maybe even smack her. Instead, I look down and blink a lot to keep my eyes from filling with tears.

  “I want to know this stuff,” Izabell says. “Even if the asteroid misses us, it seems like important stuff.”

  “It won’t,” I mumble.

  “But if it does miss us,” Jade says, “we’ll still have to deal with global warming.”

  “I want to know this stuff too,” Ajay chimes in. “Knowledge is power.” He pumps his fist in the air.

  Londyn drops her feet from the desk and leans forward.

  “Waste. Of. Time.” Her stare dares me to say something. I can’t.

  I close my notebook, shove it in my backpack, almost tearing the cover, and then leave the meeting. If Mack doesn’t need to be here, neither do I. My leadership days are over. Let them all—especially Londyn Diggs—turn into zombies.

  That evening, Mack calls my cell three times before I finally answer. I figure he’s not giving up, and my only options are to talk or turn off my phone.

  “What?” I say.

  “Hello to you too. How was the meeting?”

  “Just because I answered the phone doesn’t mean I’m talking to you.” I grab Bubbles, and we curl up on my bed. She’s the only one who can make me feel better.

  “That makes a lot of sense. Well, if you’re not talking to me, I guess I’ll talk to you. Hmm. You probably want to know how swim tryouts went.”

  He pauses. I stay quiet.

  “I made the team.” He imitates the sound of a crowd cheering. “Yay, Mack! You da man!”

  His celebration feels like it lasts for ten minutes. I ignore him and pick bits of grass out of Bubbles’ white fur.

  “Well, I assume I did,” he continues, “because there are twenty spots and only twelve guys showed up.”

  I groan.

  “And I won every heat, including backstroke, which is my worst.”

  “So you didn’t even need to be there.” I break my short-lived silent treatment.

  “Yeah, I needed to be there. Doofus. If you want to be on the team, you try out for the team.”

  “You committed to the Nature Club first.”

  “I’ve been swimming since I was a fetus.” The usual cheerful sounds in Mack’s voice are gone. He doesn’t get upset often, hardly ever. But he’s well on his way, and I keep pushing.

  “I didn’t want to do the Nature Club. You made me, and then you abandoned me.” I could cry, the angry kind of cry where my tears sting my eyes. Bubbles nudges me with her paw.

  “It’s not abandoning you if I have something else to do. Come on. You know that.”

  I huff. “I needed you.”

  “What happened?” His voice softens.

  “Londyn Diggs showed up.” I pause to keep myself from yelling. “Did you tell her about the club?”

  Silence. For a second, I think he’s hung up, but I look at the phone and see we’re still connected.

  “Mack?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You told her?” I ask again.

  “Yes. I told her.”

  “Why?”

  “We were both waiting in the guidance office yesterday. And she was crying.”

  I imagine her bawling and feel no sympathy.

  “I asked her what was wrong. She wouldn’t say. I told her whatever it was wouldn’t matter after spring because the world is ending.”

  I hit my head against my pillow. Why does he have to talk to everyone?

  “I didn’t think she was even listening, but she texted me last night. I gave her the website and told her to come to the meeting.”

  “She hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  I think about her pushing me around at the meeting, bothering me at lunch, and trying to take my head off with a basketball.

  “She’s evil,” I say.

  “Sounds like you don’t like her,” Mack says.

  Londyn Diggs used to be nice in elementary school—well, at least not mean. We were in the same dance class that I quit after two months. She used to draw cool comics and would win all the art awards at the end-of-year school celebrations. She even invited me to her birthday party—I didn’t go, of course, because Mack wasn’t asked. (It was girls only.)

  Then in sixth grade she got new friends. I guess they were the popular kids—they’re the ones with colorful
hair now. Londyn and her group hung out all the time and went to Skate World every Friday night. She was going out with Jeremy Donahue, the unofficial cutest guy at Hamilton. By the end of the year, she had a new boyfriend, Cole somebody, who had gone to a different elementary school than us. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track.

  “I don’t like her. Not after the meeting. The only thing she did was interrupt me and insult me.”

  “She interrupted?” Mack shrieks, mocking me. “How awful. We should hand out demerits.”

  “If she shows up again, I’m out. I’m not doing it.”

  “Don’t be like that, Elle,” he says softly.

  “We basically hate each other. Why should I be around that? The world is ending soon. We should be spending our last precious months with people we like.”

  “Or…maybe we should spend our last few months being more kind and tolerant.”

  I wrinkle my lip in disgust. “You sound like a teacher.”

  “I also think we should make a bucket list for these final months,” he says.

  “What? Being kind and tolerant isn’t enough?”

  “Nope. We need to get tattoos and body piercings and gauges.” He laughs, but I worry he’s at least partially serious.

  “I’m going to hang up now,” I warn, trying not to encourage him. I can only imagine Mrs. Jefferson’s outrage if Mack put gauges in his ears. “Congrats on making the swim team that accepts everyone. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Dude, I’m not kidding. We’re getting matching tattoos. We’ll go—”

  I don’t hear the rest because I’ve hung up. Tattoos are not part of my survival strategy.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next day, I creep through the morning like I’m waiting for an attack. Londyn and I only have PE and lunch together. Classrooms are safe. The halls, cafeteria, and gym are not.

  “You seem nervous,” Mack says as we enter the lunchroom. Maybe he can feel my elbow shaking or smell me sweating.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.”

  “I don’t want to deal with Londyn Diggs anymore. Okay?” Three things I hope to avoid between now and the end of the world: Londyn Diggs, head lice, and broken bones. I plan to avoid them all after too. “Just please tell her not to come to the next meeting.”