Willow
When I walked into school Monday morning, I picked up a strange energy. The halls seemed to buzz as I passed, clumps of students standing together, talking intently. Some stopped when they saw me, and the girls formerly known as the Plastics outright stared as I walked past. A sliver of fear slid down my back that Isaac and I had been found out.
Get over yourself, I thought. All this talk can’t be for me.
But why were so many people staring at me?
When I arrived at English class, the entire room swiveled to look at me. Justin ceased his conversation with Jessica Royce, and they both gave me a strange look. Justin’s was quietly smug. Jessica’s softer, as if she were ashamed and not hiding it well.
I found Angie’s face in the crowd and hurried to sit beside her.
“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.
“Call 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.
Just as Angie pulled her car in the parking lot, my phone chimed a text from Martin.
He’s w/me. We’re at the hospital in Braxton. His father was badly burned.
The small sound that burst out of me was half sob, half sigh of relief.
Isaac is OK?
He’s okay, sweetheart.
“He’s okay,” I told Angie, my voice bubbling up with tears. “I’m going to kill him, but right now he’s okay.”
We hurried inside and were directed to the third floor, the burn unit. The waiting area was set far away from the rooms to prevent infection. In a row of chairs, Isaac sat with elbows on knees, head in his hands, flanked by Brenda and Martin Ford on either side of him.
I crossed the waiting room to stand in front of him, my hands clenched to my sides. Wanting to touch him and make sure he was real, while floodgates of emotion I didn’t know I had were pouring out of me.
“Isaac.”
He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and shiny. Already he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.
I’m so mad at you
I’m so glad you’re safe
I love you so much
The last thought sprang out at me, from somewhere deep in my heart and the tears started to spill over. Out the corner of my blurred eyes, I saw Martin and Brenda stand up and move quietly away with Angie.
I sank down in the chair next to Isaac. “Is he…?”
“He has burns over eighty-two percent of his body,” Isaac said. “They say if he makes it through the night, it’ll be a miracle.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “What happened?”
Isaac shook his head and stared down at his hands. “Yesterday, I dropped some money off like I usually do. I told him not to worry, that I was going to take care of everything. I just needed a little bit of time. Two hours later Martin got a phone call from a friend of his at the fire station. I’ve been here ever since.”
I nodded, fighting the tears and losing. “Isaac, when I heard what had happened, I got scared. Really fucking scared. I didn’t hear from you and I thought…I…I don’t want to tell you what I thought.”
He raised his head miserably. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay…”
“You deserved at least a text,” he said dully.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Just don’t go silent on me, okay?”
He nodded, but didn’t say a word. I tried to comfort him as best as I could but every time a doctor came near the nurses’ station, his head shot up, then sank back down when there was no news.
“Pops was so beat down,” he said, his fingers fidgeting with his lighter. “Every time I saw him, it was worse. I should’ve known something like this would happen. I should’ve been there.”
“You had to leave,” I said. “He was hurting you.”
Isaac’s shoulders rose and fell. “I could take it. But he couldn’t take being alone, I guess. Or it all just crashed down on him and he finally gave up.”
I sat up. “What do you mean?”
He looked at me miserably. “It might not have been an accident.” He sighed and went back to his lighter. “Wexx executives are at the site right now. We were already up to our ass in debt. But now…”
He shook his head.
I bit my lip, not knowing what to do or say for him.
“Whatever,” he said gruffly, sitting up. “I’ll handle it. Whatever we owe, I’ll fucking handle it.”
But despite his posture, something in him seemed to slump. The weight of the world settling on his shoulders. He had casting agents coming to see him, but that didn’t guarantee success. Making a living at acting, even for incredible talents like him, wasn’t a sure bet.
A surge of anger at my dad then rocketed through me. He could help Isaac out with a signature on a page to erase his father’s debts, but he wouldn’t dream of it. Not even for me. Especially not for me. Because Isaac wasn’t the right kind of boy.
“Willow?” Angie said, as she and the Fords migrated back to us. “I have to get back to school. You coming?”
Isaac raised his head. “Go, babe. There’s nothing to do here but wait.”
“I want to stay with you…”
“If your dad finds out you ditched school to be here with me, everything will be worse.” He shook his head. “I’ll be okay.”
“We’ll stay with him,” Martin said gently.
“Okay.” I rested my cheek on his shoulder for a moment and then kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you soon. Call or text me if there’s news.”
“I will.”
I left with Angie, my stomach in knots.
“He’s safe, honey,” Angie said as we waited for the elevator down. “And we’ll tell the school…something. My mom can help.”
“Thanks, Angie,” I said. “You’re right. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.”
The elevator opened on the first floor. Two men in suits with briefcases were waiting to get on. They stepped aside as we exited the elevator, and I caught the glint of a small tie pin. An orange W with gold outline. I’d seen it a million times on my dad’s stationary, his computer screen saver, on every letterhead since I was a kid.
Suddenly I didn’t feel Isaac was safe at all.