Eternity by Heather Terrell

reduce our carbon footprint. To my surprise, they actually agreed. The committee meeting seemed to merit an exception to their stringent rules about walking everywhere, especially when they learned I’d be going alone. Ruth and Michael were too busy with football and schoolwork.
    I pulled into the school parking lot a few minutes before seven, figuring I had plenty of time to make it into the gymnasium before the meeting began. But I hadn’t banked on the main lot being completely full. I wondered whether there was some kind of a scheduled event that I’d missed hearing about. Usually the cars emptied out of school lot by five, unless there was a Friday football game.
    The big clock over the gymnasium doors read seven fifteen by the time I’d parked in a remote lot and run across the campus. Hoping to muffle the gymnasium doors’ usual loud creak and sneak into the meeting unnoticed, I opened one of the doors slowly. With no success. The screeching noise announced my entry.
    A vast sea of faces turned in my direction. Suddenly, I understood why all those cars were in the lot. Students from all over the county were here to help.
    An unfamiliar girl at the podium—presumably the committee organizer—paused when I walked into the room. While she waited for me to sit, she tapped her pencil on the podium and she smoothed her long, light brown hair. I could feel myself blush as I scanned the packed room for an open seat.
    The chairs on the floor and the bleachers were nearly at capacity. Among the many unfamiliar kids, I recognized quite a few Tillinghast students. To my astonishment, I even saw Piper and Missy in the crowd. Did Missy have no shame?
    Finally, I spied an opening on a bleacher in the far left corner of the room, next to a broad-shouldered guy wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Scuttling by the rows of chairs and the podium where the organizer resumed her speech, I asked the guy if he could move over to make room for me.
    “Like to make a grand entrance, do you?” he whispered with a mischievous smile as he slid over.
    I glanced at his face. His hair was chestnut brown and his eyes were dark, almost black. He was handsome in a rough, unfinished sort of way. The flush on my cheeks deepened. They were probably crimson by now. “Sorry about that.”
    The guy smiled again. In a deep, husky voice, he said, “Don’t worry. I was happy for the interruption. The organizer, Amanda, goes to my school, and she likes the sound of her own voice way too much.”
    I tried to turn my attention to Amanda. But I couldn’t. I found myself staring down at the guy’s wide, calloused hands and strong thighs. There was something compelling about him, something I couldn’t quite describe.
    “Told you she drones on,” he said, obviously noticing my drifting concentration.
    I couldn’t suppress a giggle, although it seemed so inappropriate under the circumstances. Here we were on the brink of a major catastrophe—one far worse than most people could possibly comprehend, one in which I was destined to play a major role—and I was giggling at some joke made by a strange guy. I covered my mouth. What on earth was I doing?
    He reached over and very lightly touched my hand. As if hearing my thoughts, he said, “It’s okay. I’m the only one that heard you laugh.”
    The exchange so unnerved me that, when Amanda called for volunteers, I just stuck up my hand. I didn’t even know what I was volunteering for. The guy next to me raised his arm too.
    Amanda pointed to us. “Rafe, you’re in. And, you”—she pointed to me—“what’s your name?”
    “Ellie. My name is Ellie.”
    “Great, we have two volunteers for the event-planning subcommittee. Anybody else?”
    Hands had surfaced throughout the crowd, although I noticed that Piper and Missy lowered their arms as soon as they saw that I’d been selected for the subcommittee. It seemed that Missy didn’t mind taunting me for a few minutes in the safety of a crowded