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“What the hell is going on?”
“Is your phone on? I tried to text you, like, a thousand times this morning.”
“It’s in my bag,” I said, reaching around to grab it. “I can’t text and ride my bike.”
Angie was waving her hands and shaking her head. She motioned me close and held my hand in hers. “I just found out this morning. Everyone did.”
“Found out what?” A cold dread slipped down my back.
“Yesterday, there was an explosion at the Pearce Wexx station on Calhern.”
I froze up. Tentacles of ice spread outward from my chest so I could hardly breathe.
“When?”
“Sometime in the afternoon. They say the whole thing blew. Huge fireball. Charles Pearce was gravely injured. Burns all over his body. They said—”
“What about Isaac?” I asked, gripping her hand until she winced. “He was there on Sunday. That’s the day he goes to give his dad money… Oh my God. I’m going to be sick.”
I pulled my phone from my bag and called up my text messages. Eight from Angie. None from Isaac.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
“Now hold on,” Angie said, swallowing hard. “No one said anything about a second person being there.”
My mind immediately offered the worst possible scenario.
Because nothing was left of him. Huge fireball. They haven’t found the body.
With shaking hands, I texted Isaac.
I just heard. Where RU? Are U OK?
No reply. The message read ‘delivered’ but not ‘read.’ I couldn’t sit here, watching and waiting.
“Which hospital?” I asked Angie, grabbing my bag, my voice rising. Classmates turned in their seats. “Where did they take Mr. Pearce?”
“Braxton Medical.” Now Angie was grabbing her things. “Hold on, I’ll drive you.”
We ran out of class, Mr. Paulson calling after. Which meant my parents would soon know that I ditched school. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Isaac.
“Ca
ll the hospital,” Angie said, as we climbed into her Toyota. “Ask them how many patients were brought in from the explosion on Calhern.” She glanced at my pale face and shaking hands. “Or maybe not. Honey, try not to panic, okay? The chances that he was there—”
“Are really high,” I finished. “They’re really high, Angie.”
I looked up the phone number for Braxton Medical Center. It felt like an eternity to get someone on the phone. When I did, they told me only one person had been brought in so far, and that was all they could tell me.
“No help,” I said, jabbing the end call button. “He might be okay. Right? Or he might not.”
“You got to stop thinking like that,” Angie said, as she navigated the quiet two-lane highway north toward Braxton. “What about your director? Isaac lives with him, right?”
“Shit yes, Martin.” Panic was turning me stupid. I called up Martin from my contacts, but he didn’t answer. I left a message asking him to call me and then sent him a text as well.
Is Isaac with you? Please tell me he is.
I clutched the phone in my hand, watching the scenery go by outside. The grass and corn had come back for spring. Everything was new and bright and green, while inside, the fear was turning me numb and cold. I was racing toward some terrible unknown future. One with Isaac, or without him.
