Chaos at Coconuts Read online

  “Just be careful. There’s broken glass everywhere. I don’t want you to get cut.”

  Willow, Hope, and Britney tiptoed through the hallways stopping several times to reassure a few remaining traumatized students. The teachers provided much-needed hugs and encouragement. The jocks acted tough.

  “We want to help.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “I’m not afraid of stupid tornadoes.”

  “What can I do?”

  All of the male students were on their feet shouting comments and questions. Hope corralled them into a corner. “We’ll need your help with cleanup. The janitor can’t do it all by himself. Just gather the girls and guys in this corner who are unhurt. Have everyone keep their backpacks with them and if they have a cell phone, have them text their parents that they’re okay. We won’t be able to hear if everyone is talking on the phone so I’d rather you text.”

  The class president, Neal, took the lead. “I’ll take care of telling everyone about the texting. I’ll use the school code to alert them. Don’t worry, Miss Truman. I’ve got this.”

  “Thanks, Neal. I can always count on you. She gave him a slight hug. Surely, no one would think embraces were out of place on a day like this.

  Emergency sirens filled the air. Hope saw the swirling red and blue lights reflect off the unbroken windows.

  “Guess it’s time to go outside and assess the damage.”

  Britney tugged on Hope’s arm. “Can I go with you, Miss Truman?”

  After walking the halls, Dr. Holmes stepped inside and surveyed the room. She reminded the remaining students to contact their parents.

  Hope winked at Neal. “You’re ahead of the game.”

  Since school was dismissed and students were already boarding buses or driving their cars, Dr. Holmes continued to warn them about debris, sharp items on the ground, and against heroic efforts.

  “Ask for help. Don’t try to lift heavy objects off of cars yourselves. Use teamwork and the buddy system. If your cars are damaged and not drivable, came back inside. We’ll help with transportation. There are plenty of buses available. Be safe, students. I’ll formulate a plan to deal with the aftermath tomorrow.”

  Dr. Holmes appeared as exhausted as Hope felt. The principal added, “Students, leave through the back exit in the basement. I’ve checked the area and it’s clear. Form lines and be courteous. No running.” She paused and softened her authoritative voice. “Be careful.”

  Hope glanced at Willow. “I’m going to check my office and see if there’s any damage. Britney, stay with Willow for now.”

  Happily, her computer, desk, windows, and paperwork were intact. Before she sat down, the school nurse poked her head inside the door.

  “Miss Truman, I heard you were knocked out or passed out. Regardless, will you stop by my office? I want to check you out.”

  Hope shifted the bag of now-soggy peas. “I’m fine.”

  The nurse pursed her lips. “Procedure. I’ll have to write up an incident report, so I need to examine you.”

  “I’m telling you I’m fine.” Hope sighed.

  The stoic nurse tapped her watch. “I want to go home, too.”

  “Okay, okay. Be there in a minute.” Hope debated whether to call Suzy and Alex. She knew they’d be worried about her. After searching her purse and desk drawer, she couldn’t find her phone. She gave up and trudged down the locker-filled hallway to Nurse Geneva’s tiny office.

  “Have a seat.” The all-business nurse removed a stethoscope from her neck and listened to Hope’s chest and back. She put a thermometer in Hope’s mouth and waited until it beeped.

  Hope frowned. “Geeze, I don’t have the flu.”

  “You’re worse than the kids. Hush.” Geneva winked at her. Then she took a miniature flashlight, leaned in close, and peered into Hope’s eyes. She examined both eyes twice. “Your pupils aren’t dilated. That’s a good sign.”

  Nurse Geneva pointed toward an eye chart on the far wall. “Read the smallest print you can.”

  Hope giggled. “Are you going to fit me for glasses?”

  “Again with the lip.”

  Hope shrugged. “Maybe I’ve hung around Alex too long.”

  “Who is he?”

  “She’s one of my best friends who is slightly blunt at times. Actually, most of the time.”

  Geneva covered Hope’s left eye. “Read the smallest line, please.”

  Hope read the letters: F D P L T C E.

  “Perfect.” She repeated the test on the right eye. After Hope read the line correctly, Nurse Geneva actually smiled. “Your vision is better than mine. You don’t have a concussion and your vitals are excellent. I’d say you’re a walking bill of health.”

  “Except for my weight.” Hope winked. “I told you I was okay.”

  The nurse crossed her arms. “Don’t you feel better now that you know?”

  “Yes, but what about this bump on my head?”

  The nurse leaned forward and gently touched it. “The fluid will likely absorb in a week or two but you may want to check with your doctor. In the meantime, here’s some Ibuprofen. Take two to three with meals for a few days if the pain continues.”

  “Thanks. I suppose I do feel better now that you’ve given me the all-clear,” Hope said. “Thanks for insisting I get examined.”

  “Good.” The nurse walked Hope toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have a kid who vomited in biology before the tornado hit. I’ve got to determine if she has the flu or if she puked after dissecting a frog.”

  Hope laughed. “I’m glad I’m a counselor.” She walked down the hallway as the nurse headed toward the science department. Hope shouted. “She probably already left and went home with the others.”

  “Possibly,” Geneva said. “I need to double check though.”

  After seeing Nurse Geneva, Hope strode toward the cafeteria feeling less dizzy and more confident. She joined the principal and several faculty members who stood in the middle of the room.

  Dr. Holmes waved her arms. “I’d like for a few faculty members to meet me at the front entrance to assess the damage outside. The rest of the teachers should stay inside and assist the remaining students with cars and buses. Also, go view your classrooms. Once you’ve checked every floor and each classroom for damage, feel free to join us outside. Any volunteers to go now?”

  Hope raised her hand. “Count me in.”

  The janitor, Larry-slash-Mac, said, “I’ve swept up the glass and the boys are righting the tables and chairs in the cafeteria. I’d like to go outside, too, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine,” Dr. Holmes said. “Glad to have your help. Who else wants to join us?”

  Willow’s bangle bracelets clanged as she waved her hand. “I’ll help.”

  “Good.” Dr. Holmes motioned to the football and basketball coaches. “Why don’t you join us, Coach Williams and Coach Renner?”

  Both men said, “Sure.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.” The principal turned back toward the faculty members who remained inside. “Please search for water leaks in the restrooms and lab. Look for anything out of the ordinary.”

  A chorus of “Will do,” filled the room as Dr. Holmes led the small group outside.

  Chapter 32

  Hope held her breath, fearing the worst. Living in Tornado Alley, she knew full well that sometimes tornadoes would hop scotch from house to house or hit one side of the street and not the other, seemingly with no rhyme nor reason. She wanted to peek through her fingers like a young child. The older homes in the mature neighborhood weren’t in the best of shape to begin with.

  Her heart pounded as they neared the massive front doors and thought about the school’s sweet—albeit occasionally cranky—neighbor
s. She hadn’t met many of them and chuckled about the few neighbors who predictably called the school to complain about the Kiltie Drum Corps practicing early in the mornings or grumbling about track players running along their sidewalks and disturbing their early morning walks. Still, cantankerous or not, they were neighbors. They were people who were living a normal life until this morning.

  As the faculty members stepped outside, Hope gasped. Several houses across the street had been decimated. The large brick school had withstood the heavy winds but at least three of the older homes were crushed like crackers. Cars were overturned and furniture was scattered on the lawns and street. Many trees were pulled out by the roots or stripped of bark.

  Hope blinked through tears as she surveyed the damage. The coaches ran toward the houses and immediately began lifting huge fragments of lumber, likely in case someone was trapped underneath. Hope was right on their heels and cursed her chubby legs for not moving faster.

  She stood in a neighbor’s yard to assess the damage. Massive, stout oaks had been uprooted. The twister had literally stripped the bark off almost every other tree. It was as if the trees were naked. Some trees were broken down to stumps.

  A lump formed in Hope’s throat as she looked east to west and north to south. She couldn’t believe three houses were completely gone. Gone. Brushing a tear from her cheek, she stared at the concrete foundations of what were, a mere hour earlier, family homes. Homes where people gathered to relax over dinner, maybe a glass of wine, play board games with kids, or watch a movie. Homes where new babies were welcomed with blue or pink walls and teddy bears. Homes where birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays were celebrated. Homes that held treasured memories—scrapbooks, photo albums, vacation mementos, concert tickets, and school yearbooks. Now everything was scattered to the wind. But most importantly, where were the people?

  Hope could barely wrap her head around the dismal scene. She stepped over boards, shingles, and insulation. Glancing at the other faculty members, she noticed they each had the same look on their pale faces. Even the strong, broad-shouldered coaches were grim-faced.

  She heard a moan and practically jumped out of her skin, as she rushed toward the sound. Coach Williams beat her to the site and tugged on a caved-in wall. Hope motioned for the others to help.

  Everyone ran over and worked together to upright the wall which revealed a gray-haired, bun-wearing woman who sat seemingly frozen in a recliner. She wore soft, pink pajamas and was curled in a fetal position. A delicate white coffee cup with red roses was amazingly intact on the ground beside her. The woman stared wide-eyed as though she were in shock. I’d be in shock, too. She just withstood a twister and her house was destroyed.

  Hope ran toward the survivor, bent down, and gently touched her arm. “Ma’am. Can you hear me?”

  The woman didn’t respond. Her eyes were large and glassy. She stared straight ahead as if she weren’t aware of the chaos.

  Hope held her hand. “My name is Hope Truman. I’m a counselor at Hilltop High School.” Still there was no response. Hope heard one of the coaches calling the police as she attempted to communicate with her again.

  “Ma’am, we’ve called nine-one-one. Paramedics will be here any minute.” Hope patted her shoulder. “You’ll be okay.” She thought she detected a partial nod. “I’ll stay with you until the ambulance arrives.”

  Still holding the elderly woman’s liver-spotted hand, Hope stood and whispered to the coach, “Why don’t the rest of you look around for others? Maybe she was married or—” Hope’s voice cracked.

  Coaches Williams and Renner were already on it lifting large boards and limbs and dragging them toward an empty lot.

  Soon blaring sirens and swirling lights filled the neighborhood. Three ambulances and two police cars raced to the horrific scene. The police used orange cones to block off the street, likely since rubbernecking citizens had already begun driving up and down the road. They left one lane open for emergency vehicles.

  Paramedics jumped out of the back of the first ambulance and brought a stretcher to the scene. A tall paramedic barked, “Give us some room.”

  Hope and the teachers gave him a wide berth as he put a stethoscope in his ears and listened to the woman’s heart. The EMT checked her pulse and shouted, “Can you hear me?”

  The obviously confused and shocked woman simply stared ahead.

  The paramedic raised his voice, still gentle but direct. “Ma’am. Your house was hit by a tornado. You’re lucky to be alive. Do you understand?”

  She gave a barely detectable nod.

  He continued as he waved to another paramedic for assistance. “We’re taking you to the hospital. You may have a concussion.” He reached for her hand. “Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can.” He nodded toward the other paramedic and asked, “Do we have your consent to take you to the hospital? If so, squeeze my hand again.” He smiled. “We’ve got her consent. Steve, help me get her loaded.”

  Hope didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. She let it out as paramedics gingerly loaded the frail woman into the ambulance. Hope ran her fingers through her unruly hair, wishing she could do more, do anything.

  Staring at the destruction, she knew she just had to begin and walked around the house lifting pieces of lumber, broken windows, chunks of insulation, and tree limbs looking for anyone who might be buried under the rubble.

  More teachers joined in the effort as well as several neighbors. The growing crowd worked solemnly and tirelessly searching for victims. They didn’t bother picking up housing items like toasters or chairs. That would come soon enough. Everyone seemed to understand today’s mission was searching for survivors.

  The wail of a baby made Hope bristle. She ran toward the sound. A young mother had passed out and a young child, maybe one, crawled on top of her.

  Hope rushed over and picked up the little boy. His feet were barefoot and his clothes were drenched. She smoothed his black, curly hair and kissed his cheek, telling him “Mommy’s okay. Mommy’s okay,” but the child wouldn’t stop crying. Hope waved madly toward her teacher friends. The two coaches arrived and one checked the woman’s pulse. “She’s alive.”

  “Thank God,” Hope said. “Get another ambulance over here.”

  Apparently an officer overheard her. She glanced in his direction as she bounced the toddler on her hip, trying anything to get him to stop crying. The cop talked into his shoulder microphone and requested another emergency vehicle STAT.

  Willow and Larry-Mac ran over. “Is the child okay? Larry asked. Without asking permission, he reached for the tot, made silly noises, and held him in the air like an airplane. The young boy stopped crying.

  Hope’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a way with kids.”

  Larry-Mac grinned. “I’ve always loved ‘em. Too bad I never had any.”

  Hope’s face—and heart—fell.

  Willow patted Larry’s arm. “That’s too bad. You would have a made a wonderful father. Just look at that kid. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

  Thankfully, sirens blared, so no one could hear Hope’s heart shattering. She glanced back at the janitor who made car revving and honking noises. The toddler was all smiles and trying to mimic the sounds, as if there had never been a tornado and as though his mother weren’t out cold. Maybe Larry does have a twin brother. This isn’t the dad I remember.

  After paramedics loaded the young mom and toddler into a second ambulance, the group worked until the sun set. Eventually, authorities ran them off due to a downed power line. A police officer announced he and others would take shifts throughout the night to patrol the area and avoid looting. A tall, broad-shouldered officer thanked the volunteers and asked them to go home.

  Hope left the destruction in a daze. This day feels like a dream, or rather, a nightmare. After trudging to her office
, she unearthed Britney’s now-dry crinkled homework from earlier that day and found her phone underneath the paperwork.

  At a stop light, she turned on her cell. Sure enough, Alex and Suzy had left half a dozen messages asking if she was okay. She smiled to herself. I love my friends and they love me but I don’t have the energy to call them. I’ll text later. They must be worried sick.

  Once she arrived in the safety and solace of her home, Hope texted, explained the school wasn’t hit, but several neighbors’ houses were destroyed. She considered mentioning finding three survivors, getting hit on the head, and discovering her thought-dead hippie dad, but deleted that part of the text. It was information overload, plus she didn’t have an ounce of energy left for a long back and forth conversation. They’ll find out soon enough. She simply said she was safe at home and loved them.

  Chapter 33

  “Hi babe. Any storm damage on your end of town?” Lt. Montgomery asked.

  Relieved to hear Tony’s voice, Alex said, “No, thank goodness but I’ve been worried sick about Hope all day. She didn’t answer her phone for hours.”

  “Yeah, we patrolled the area around Hilltop all afternoon. There was serious damage to several homes but the school just has broken windows, downed trees, and a couple of live electrical wires. A few cars were overturned in the parking lot. Others were smashed by trees, but since the kids were inside, we don’t have any reports of student or faculty injuries.”

  Alex swiveled in her chair. “I’m so relieved but sad for the homeowners.”

  “Yeah. Bad deal. ‘Tis the season for twisters,” he said. “After the stressful day, I thought we could catch a movie later. Or snuggle on the couch or . . .”

  How Alex had yearned to have Tony for herself last year when he was married to his cheating spouse. Now that he was available, something nagged at her. She was still crazy about him. Their chemistry could light a campfire but she still wasn’t sure about their long-term prospects, which saddened her after everything they had gone through.