The Girl at the End of the World by Richard Levesque Page B

jump. Still, it gave me a little peace of mind to hear sirens approaching. The neighborhood might not be saved, but at least the fire could be stopped from spreading to others.
    I knew not to knock on Jen’s door. No one would answer. And I wouldn’t have wanted them to. Still haunted at the thought of the hug I’d given my mom, I didn’t want to do anything to endanger Jen or her family or anyone else. But I knew they were inside, and I was out. It would stay that way, and I’d be safe here, as safe as could be anyway. And they’d be safe from me.
    I gathered my jacket and backpack and locked the Nissan. My car now. And then I headed for the gate on the side of the house. I would have hopped it if I’d needed to, but it was unlocked, so I slipped into the backyard and walked around the pool the way I’d done a hundred times before, only now there was no laughter, no barbecue, no anything. Just me and the still water and the smell of smoke in the air.
    Jen’s room was on the second floor, and her window looked out onto the pool. I glanced up at it now, not surprised to find it covered in the same plastic as all the other windows in the house. Calling up to her wouldn’t be a good idea—would only get the attention of her parents and brother, too. I knew her dad wouldn’t want me back here, would be afraid of what microscopic dangers I was carrying. He’d kick me out for sure, if he had the nerve to come outside. Still, I didn’t want to risk it. If I just stayed quiet, I could wait here until I figured out what else to do.
    The backyard looked no different than it would have on a normal day—lounge chairs scattered around the pool, a glass-topped patio table with a folded umbrella poking through its center and padded chairs around it, the covered barbecue near a sliding glass door. I quietly pulled a chair away from the table, sat down, and began removing my things from the backpack, laying them all out on the table before me. It wasn’t much, not enough to survive on. I should have grabbed more food, I told myself, but there was no going back now. There were bound to be Red Cross centers up already; I just needed to find the nearest one and then try to figure out what I was going to do next. What do you do when you’ve turned fifteen, become an orphan, and had your house burn down all in twenty-four hours? I wondered how the Red Cross would handle that one.
    The Waverlys had an outlet in a neat little box sticking out of the lawn right near the table, so I uncoiled my laptop’s charger and plugged in, just to make sure I had 100% battery life by the time I had to leave—whenever that turned out to be. Then I logged onto Jen’s Wi-Fi and opened my Facebook. I could see from the chat icon that Jen was online; so were a couple of our friends, but I didn’t care about them right now.
    Jen? I typed.
    Seconds later. OMG! Where r u?
    Ur back yard
    What?
    U gonna make me type it again?
    What happened?
    I dont wanna go into it. I need a place to stay. Can I hang out here for now?
    I think my p wont like it but I wont tell.
    K
    U all rite?
    For now. U?
    Scared.
    Not sick?
    No. Not yet.
    K. Call me when its safe.
    K
    I logged off then and just looked around the yard, listening to the sound of helicopters not far away and wondering if they were part of the effort to save what was left of my neighborhood. I suppose I was in shock, as I didn’t think at all about everything I’d lost in the last few hours or the final blow to my old life that the helicopters and billowing smoke signaled. Realizing I hadn’t eaten anything yet, I unwrapped one of the energy bars and opened the peanut butter. Then I went to Google and tried to figure out what was going on.
    The disease was definitely a fungus, authorities claimed.
    Others claimed it was a virus.
    The sites that claimed it was aliens or the wrath of God, I didn’t bother clicking on.
    All the pages with theories included pictures of people dying from the growths.