Chaos at Coconuts Page 8

  Hope hurried toward the teachers’ lounge, which was unoccupied for once. Spotting the half-empty coffee pot, she poured a cup of much-needed java. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. Hilltop High School was known for award-winning sports teams but their coffee was no Starbucks, not even close. She glanced at the standard white, round school clock against the old brick wall. It was 8:15 a.m.

  As she forced the robust coffee down, Hope heard a few straggler students clang locker doors and scamper down the hall in an obvious effort to beat the first bell. She shook her head. These kids will never learn that school always starts at the same time. She peeked in the refrigerator to see if her peach yogurt was still there. As she sifted through sandwiches, bags of veggies, juice packs, and other food on the shelves, Willow walked inside.

  “Morning.” Willow’s armful of silver bracelets jangled as she opened a cabinet and reached for a HHS coffee mug. The usual waft of patchouli followed her like a hippie cloud.

  Hope raised her cup and returned the greeting. She was happy to have a new colleague and thrilled she broke the typical teacher mold. Her unique, vintage clothes screamed fun second-hand store.

  Today, Willow’s thick, prematurely gray hair was woven into an unruly bun with a pencil seemingly holding the mass together. The art teacher made a point of adorning herself with mismatched jewelry and a lot of it, though she didn’t wear a stitch of makeup except for the occasional blue or purple toenail polish. Hope studied Willow who appeared as if she didn’t have a care in the world. While Hope was a Type B, and Alex was a Type A++, Willow would easily be awarded the Type C trophy if there were such a thing.

  Hope pointed toward her colleague’s coffee mug. “You might want to hold your nose while you drink that stuff.”

  Willow laughed. “It’s not that bad. At least Hilltop offers free coffee. Who can complain about free?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  Willow took a couple of sips. “I love it here. By the way, have you met our new janitor?”

  Hope shook her head. “No, but one of my students told me about him. I spotted him down the hall earlier.”

  “I like him.” Willow paused. “A lot.”

  Hope raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s he like?”

  Willow sat down at the elongated, wooden table. “We’re kindred spirits. And . . . he’s kinda cute. Definitely non-traditional, which I like.”

  Hope sat across from her. “He sounds like your type.”

  Willow put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone but we’re secretly dating. I don’t know if it’s allowed and don’t want anyone to know since we’re both new. Neither of us wants to risk our job.”

  Hope’s eyes widened. “That is news. It might be frowned upon but maybe not. I know several teachers and coaches who’ve dated over the years. But I’ll keep it a secret.”

  Willow twirled one of her long dreadlocks that framed her face. “I really like him.”

  “I’ve got to meet him. He must have a different lunch hour than me.” Hope teased, “Maybe I’ll spill something on the floor so he’ll have to respond.”

  “He does come in handy that way.” Willow winked. “And in other ways.”

  Hope held up her hand. “That might be TMI.” She suddenly felt melancholy and a little shy. “I’m really glad you’re here, Willow. You remind me of my parents. I mean, you’re not old enough to be my parent but—”

  Willow took another sip of coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is.”

  “Thank you. Do they live nearby?” Willow asked.

  Hope’s eyes welled with tears. “No. They were—” The school bell sounded a long, loud alert. “Oh, no.” Hope grabbed Willow’s hand. “Follow me.”

  A chill ran up Hope’s spine as they exited the teachers’ lounge. She knew from the tone what the alert was about. Dammit. I love spring but hate these twisters. She closed the door to the lounge per school procedure, rushed to the cafeteria to herd students to the basement, and literally pushed them forward with her arms spread wide.

  “Hurry. Move it. Get to the basement. We had this drill last fall. You know what to do.” Hope noticed a few male students rolled their eyes or snickered. In comparison, the girls huddled together as they rushed toward the stairs. All struggled with heavy backpacks.

  “There you are.” A wide-eyed Britney sprinted toward Hope, still carrying the stack of college applications with her. “Is this drill for a tornado, Miss Truman?”

  “Hi, Brit. Sorry. With all the excitement, I forgot you were in my office. Yes, it’s a tornado drill. I’m glad you followed procedure. Let’s go.”

  “But is it real?” Britney studied her counselor, obviously waiting for a concrete answer.

  Hope glanced toward the window as they hurried to shelter. “Sometimes tornadoes touch down and sometimes they don’t. We have to take Mother Nature seriously just in case.” She noticed the branches were no longer swaying. “Actually, the wind is much quieter than it was earlier this morning.” Maybe too quiet. Hope’s stomach lurched knowing it was always silent before a tornado hit. Remaining calm for the students, she cupped a hand around her mouth. “Keep moving toward the basement, everyone. Hurry. Single file.”

  Soon Dr. Holmes announced the basement was full and demanded students and faculty immediately take cover in the hallways or cafeteria along the brick wall and far away from any windows.

  Hope’s heart raced as she stood on a stairwell landing and directed students toward the cafeteria. Britney remained by her side, even though Hope told her to leave. Thankfully, the students ran like track stars, albeit calmly, and in a single line toward the designated safe areas.

  Once inside the cafeteria, Hope scanned the massive room as Willow steered yet more students toward an interior wall. The remaining teachers who weren’t already in the basement entered the substantial, concrete room. Everyone did their job, just as they had practiced every year. Hope yelled to the crowd, “Stay away from the windows, everyone. Hunker down and remember what you’ve learned during our tornado drills.”

  “I bet it isn’t even real,” one of the male jocks snickered.

  Another student bounced a basketball that he must have produced from his backpack.

  “Put that ball down and take cover. Now,” Hope yelled.

  One female student cried. Then a second and third sobbed. Hope knew she had to reassure them. “Girls, it’ll be fine. It probably won’t touch down but we can’t take any chances. Go sit against that back wall, away from the windows, and huddle close together.”

  Britney linked her arm through Hope’s as they hurried toward the back of the room. Within minutes, students were crammed in like sardines. Hope snuck a peek out the small windows near the ceiling. The threatening sky looked ominous. Dark, gray clouds had created a thick wall. Hope swallowed. Oh, my God.

  Chapter 24

  Alex actually made it to the bank early. She peered at the dark, ominous sky and grabbed an umbrella from the back floorboard of her car. Rushing inside, she barely made it through the back door before getting drenched.

  Her plan was to be perched at her desk when Hannah arrived. She was dying for a cup of coffee but blindsiding her intern about changing her voicemail was more important. Busying herself, she glanced at her marketing budget. She had enough in the budget to buy some new logo items for Show-Me Bank and Googled promotional items. She had already bought pens, ball caps—at the request of her boss—Post-it notes, and coasters, all containing the new Show-Me Bank logo. She wanted something new and scrolled through two sites while she waited for Hannah.

  When she heard Hannah’s voice in the lobby, Alex bristled and knew she had to calm herself down. She wanted to appear authoritarian—maybe more authoritarian than she felt—toward her intern. When she heard footste
ps approach, she swiveled to face her nemesis.

  “Mornin’, Alex,” Hannah said as she gathered her files off the corner of Alex’s desk.

  Alex glared at her. “Sit down.”

  Hannah shot her a surprised look. “Good morning to you too.” She plopped down in a chair across from Alex.

  All business, Alex asked, “Now that I have your attention, how did you access my password?”

  Hannah crossed her arms. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  “No, and you didn’t answer my question. How did you access it?”

  Just then, Jim Hooban, the bank president, poked his head inside the door. “Morning, ladies. How’s everything in marketing?”

  “Great, Daddy. I love it here. Alex is the best boss.” She gave Alex a fake, wide smile, obviously daring her to say something, anything.

  “Morning, Jim.” Alex decided not to answer his question about marketing nor offer anything in the audience of his wicked daughter.

  He glanced out the window. “Bad storm. I’ll be eager to hear what you think of the new marketing ideas Hannah told me over dinner last night. They’re good. Really good.”

  Alex nearly gagged as Hannah beamed at her father. I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve this. She ignored his comment and managed a smile. “Speaking of marketing, we have work to do.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Jim turned and left.

  Alex waited until her boss was out of earshot, then glared at Hannah. “I repeat, how did you tap into my password?”

  “Easy. I tried three times based on your birthdate and street address.” Hannah pointed toward her head. “Master’s degree, remember?”

  “How could I forget? You remind me daily.” Alex narrowed her eyes. “I’m not even going to ask how you knew my birthdate or street address. I’m changing the message back and don’t ever do that again. I’m vice president of marketing. You’re not.”

  Alex cleared her throat, found her professional voice, and changed the phone message. Then she stormed off and went to the employee lounge for much-needed coffee. Jim happened to be getting a refill. She fought back the urge to tell him she hated his daughter.

  Jim smiled at Alex. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well. Hannah told me she loves working at Show-Me Bank.”

  Alex bit her lip to contain her disgust. She muttered under her breath, “Well, she does have a master’s degree.” She filled an old Community National Bank mug and stared at the front. “This is what we need. New coffee mugs. Gotta run.”

  She begrudgingly stomped down the stairs to her once- serene corner office. Now it was crowded with two desks, two chairs, and a plucky intern. When Alex walked inside, for once Hannah was seated at her own desk.

  “What are we working on today?” Hannah asked.

  Alex pointed at her mug. “This. Why don’t you research coffee mugs using our new logo? Find out quantities, price points, and delivery time. Give me several options.”

  “Easy peasy. Want to hear my new marketing ideas?”

  “No.”

  Chapter 25

  Hope fought back tears and faked confidence. I’ve never been through an actual tornado. I’ve got to stay strong for the kids. “Cluster close together.” She pointed toward a thick, interior wall. “Sit here and put your heads between your knees, kids. We’ve practiced ‘duck and cover.’ Face the wall.”

  Clouds churned in the heavens, almost as if they were boiling. Thunder boomed like a giant bowling alley. As lightning cracked and zigzagged across the atmosphere, Britney and Hope both jumped. Britney leaned against Hope who patted her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Promise?” the young teen asked.

  Hope hugged Britney. “I promise to try my best to protect you and everyone else. Tuck your head between your knees.” She scanned the room. Most students were quiet, seemingly stunned, or trying to act brave.

  Shrill tornado sirens wailed making the hairs stand up on Hope’s arms. She wanted to cover her ears but knew she had to at least appear fearless. Glancing at a far-away, upper window, her eyes widened when she spotted what appeared to be an enormous, gray funnel swirling and forming in the distance. It was likely miles away but still much too close for comfort.

  “I repeat,” she shouted, “stay away from all windows, get close together and put your head between your knees.”

  More students and teachers stampeded into the cafeteria. The serious voice of Dr. Holmes, the principal, boomed across the intercom. “This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill. Follow school procedure for tornadoes.” The principal paused. “Be safe.”

  Even though she had never taken yoga, Hope breathed in and out, trying to remain calm as her heart thrashed in her chest. Memories of the devastating EF5 Joplin tornado years earlier flooded her mind. Every television station had covered the devastating aftermath of the massive twister. She remembered being shocked to see entire neighborhoods completely obliterated and recalled a row of houses were flattened or gone completely except for their concrete foundations. Many trees were either uprooted or their limbs and bark had been stripped like silks from corn on the cob. Hope shivered at the memory and said a silent prayer that the tornado would miss Hilltop High School and Crystal City.

  As she listened to the kids’ nervous banter, she shook her head with annoyance that a few students weren’t taking the drill seriously. Hope stood with her hands on her hips and yelled as loudly as possible, “Kids, don’t make me repeat this. Get along the inside wall. Hurry.”

  She noticed a few struggled with books and gear, shifting them from side to side among the growing crowd. She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted, “Don’t worry about your backpacks, books, and purses. Sit down, get close, and cover your heads.”

  Minutes seemed like hours as they crouched and waited. Soon, quarter-sized hail pelted the roof and windows. A few students screamed at the deafening sound. Except for a few too-cool male students, worried looks and pale faces begged Hope for reassurance. While seated along the interior wall, she glanced up toward the small upper windows along the ceiling. The morning sky was as dark as the inside of a cave. Lighting continued to slice across the heavens in concert with deafening thunder. She braced herself for one boom of thunder and lightning bolt after another. Then it was quiet. Too quiet. Hope tensed and listened to the students’ varied reactions.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “This is silly.”

  “I love storms.”

  “I hate storms.”

  “I’m not afraid of tornadoes”

  “Are we going to die?”

  “Now I don’t have to take my test.”

  She hoped their silly banter was all they had to worry about. Eventually, the eerie quiet summoned her. Hope made her way through the crowd to reassure students since it seemed as though the storm had passed. Students whispered, fidgeted, and giggled. Some stood and stretched. And then, she heard it. The sound that was known for pre-empting a tornado. A roaring train sound. Dammit.

  Chapter 26

  Hope bellowed, “This is it. Duck and cover, everyone. I think we’re going to get h—”

  The deafening sound charged toward them. Hope’s stomach churned but she reminded herself they were inside a large, brick building. She tried to rid herself of the fact that the Joplin tornado did immense destruction to a massive, brick hospital and literally shook her head as if to erase the images.

  Maybe we’ll escape the tornado’s wrath. We have to for the students’ sake. Well over a thousand innocent kids are inside this school. They have their whole future ahead of them. Hope did her best to will the beast away.

  She gulped past a lump in her throat as Britney clung to her. Hope held her breath, put her arm around Britney’s shoulders, and waited. She wanted it to be over. As if he
aring her thoughts, all hell broke loose.

  Glass shattered as a tree limb shot through an upper window, barely missing several students who screamed and scrambled out of the way. Smaller windows near the ceiling broke into hundreds of pieces. Hope glanced out the now-open window as tell-tale flying debris swirled in the air. Her mouth flew open as a car flew by. A car. Then she spotted what looked like a bed swirling in mid-air and felt as if she were in The Wizard of Oz. In a matter of seconds, several trees were uprooted and airborne. Hope’s eyes widened when she spotted the black funnel. The angry twister shot debris high into the atmosphere. Hope watched, wide-eyed, then turned toward the noise as she heard a loud crash. A massive limb broke through a window and headed toward her head. Everything went black.

  ~ ~ ~

  When she awakened, Hope blinked several times, still in a haze about what had occurred. She stared into a sea of worried students’ faces peering down at her. The kids’ expressions were filled with shock and concern. Hope attempted to move and groaned. Her head throbbed. She rubbed a knot forming on the back of her head. The slight movement made her woozy. The room spun. Closing her eyes, she felt herself drifting back to darkness.

  She vaguely heard murmurs of “Miss Truman. Miss Truman. Wake up.”

  “Miss Truman, are you okay?”

  “Someone call 9-1-1.”

  “Help. Does anyone know CPR?”

  Hope tried to force her eyes open but faded in and out. Trying to focus, she thought she saw the new janitor crouching beside her. His long hair tickled her face as he gently placed her arms by her side. Even though she had head fog, she realized she was sprawled out like a crime scene victim. As the man leaned closer and poised above her chest with both hands as if to begin CPR, her eyes bulged. At that moment, Hope’s mind cleared completely.