“Oh, no,” Sonny said dismissively, straightening up. “But my mom is making us evacuate to Orlando anyway.”
“But you don’t think it’s coming here?” I felt the alarm I’d been experiencing since watching the news—and listening to my mom’s message—growing. Maybe I was making a terrible mistake. Maybe all the people who’d left me those messages, including my mother, were right.
Except that, honestly, what did they know? None of them lived in the cone of uncertainty, or even knew what one was, really. If Drew Hartwell wasn’t evacuating (and he didn’t seem to be), why should I?
“Well, we were going to go to Orlando anyway,” Sonny explained. “They have a new park devoted to Star Wars. I want to see that! You know I’m up to level sixty-eight in Battlefront?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You mentioned that. So when are you two leaving?”
“Later tonight, I guess,” Sonny said. “As soon as she can find some gas. You know there’s no gas anywhere on the island? Except maybe the Shell over by the high school, she says. But there’s a three-hour wait.”
Oh. Well, so much for using Dani’s car. The impending gasoline shortage was a problem they’d mentioned on the Weather Channel, but I hadn’t thought it was something that would affect Little Bridge . . . until now. A previous but much less powerful hurricane that had hit Texas and the Gulf side of Florida the week before had been causing fuel shortages all up and down the Keys and throughout much of the Southeast. I supposed I should feel lucky that the scooter I drove required only three dollars’ worth of fuel to fill the tank.
Not that you could evacuate from a Category 5 hurricane on a scooter. Well, you could, but you wouldn’t get very far.
“Wow,” I said to Sonny. “That’s tough. But I’m sure you two will get out of here in plenty of time.”
“Oh, yes,” Sonny said, looking unconcerned. “Hey, you can come if you want.”
“What?” I was shocked. “With you and your mom? To Orlando?”
“Yeah, why not? It will be a lot of fun! You like rides, don’t you?”
“Um.” If it had been any other guy, I’d have suspected him of hitting on me. But Sonny genuinely only cared about rides and games—of the amusement park variety. “That’s so sweet of you. Thanks so much for the offer. But I can’t, I’m afraid. I have to stay here to take care of Gary.”
He looked down at my cat, who now was lounging in the shade of the frangipani, Gary’s favorite place in the whole world, outside of my bed. A gecko—there were thousands, maybe millions of geckos, all over Little Bridge. You couldn’t seem to walk a foot down the sidewalk without nearly stepping on one of the small, fast-moving lizards—darted toward Gary, who swiped a lazy paw at it. The gecko darted safely away.
“Oh, right,” Sonny said. “They don’t allow pets at Disney. Or at least, not the hotel where we’re staying. That’s why we’ve got to leave R2-D2 and C-3PO at home.”
R2-D2 and C-3PO were Sonny’s pet guinea pigs, of which he was not only inordinately fond, but quite proud. He spent hours every day brushing and caring for them.
“But you have someone to look after them while you’re gone, don’t you?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “My cousin Sean said he’d come over. He can’t evacuate because he works for the electric company, and they need him here to turn the electricity back on if it goes out.”
I knew Sonny’s cousin Sean Petrovich. He performed the more complicated repairs around the building.
“Oh, good,” I said. “Well, I’ll look forward to seeing him around. And thanks for putting up our shutters. I’m headed to the store right now. Can I get you something there as a way of saying thank you?”
“Sure, orange soda,” he said, brightening. “If they have it? And Sour Patch Kids.”
“Oh, sure. Can do. Come on, Gary.” I hoisted the cat up from the shade of the frangipani, though he let out a squeak of protest. “You have to go inside while I’m at the store.”
“I’ll watch him while you’re away,” Sonny offered. “I’m just gonna be right here.”
I lifted a hand to shade my eyes from the strong summer sun as I studied his earnest expression. “Are you sure?” It was something Sonny had done several times before while working around the building, without incident, but never while a violent hurricane was sitting a thousand miles offshore.
“Yeah,” Sonny said, nodding vehemently. “I like Gary. And Gary likes me.”
This was true. Although it was also true that Gary liked everyone, including the postal and newspaper delivery persons, all of my neighbors, the exterminator, and anyone else who happened to wander through the courtyard gate.
What was even more true was that Gary, like me, had been hurt . . . but he was healing. He’d chosen me at the shelter just as much as I’d chosen him, shuffling toward me and butting his head against my feet as if to say, “Hey, down here. Look at me. I’m needy, but I’m also needed. You need me as much as I need you.”
Because it had turned out to be true. And together, we were forging a new life, learning to trust when we each had so much reason not to.
“Well,” I said to Sonny. “Okay. I’ll leave my door open, so he can come inside if he gets hungry or thirsty. And feel free to help yourself to anything you find in my fridge, too, while I’m gone. Except the beige stuff in the pitcher. My roommate bakes with that. You probably wouldn’t like it.”
Sonny nodded appreciatively. He was beginning to sweat in the midafternoon sun. “Thanks, Bree.”
I smiled as I headed toward the front gate. One of the reasons I loved Little Bridge so much was because you could do things like this—leave your beloved cat and apartment in the care of your handyman, and not worry about it, whereas in New York this would never happen. Well, maybe it would, but not in my experience.
This was one of the many reasons for my leaving the city.
But now, given what seemed to be headed our way, I was wondering if I’d made the right decision.
Chapter Five
Have supplies on hand to help with everything you might need before, during, and after a hurricane.
Emergency Disaster Survival Kit Basics—Food
Gas or charcoal for the grill (warning: never use a grill inside)
Manual can opener
Nonperishable foods and beverages—7–10 days per person
Drinking water—at least 1 gallon per person per day
Plastic plates, cups, and utensils
Don’t forget food/water for pets and babies!
The sun was still shining brightly when I headed out for Frank’s Food Emporium to buy my hurricane supplies—on my purple no-speed bike with its large front basket, since I wanted to save what little gas was left in my scooter—Daniella’s list tucked in my hip pocket. I’d convinced myself after the two o’clock bulletin from the National Weather Service that we probably weren’t going to get anything but a few rain bands, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.
Except that maybe the locals knew something I didn’t. As I pedaled along, I saw evidence that Little Bridge residents were preparing for an all-out weather catastrophe. Along the main thoroughfare businesses were boarding up, literally hammering boards over their plate-glass display windows. The pharmacy had already pulled down its metal gates. Only a small handwritten sign on the door indicated that it was still open.