Page 118 of Hate You, Maybe
Me
We’re waiting for you. In the weight room.
Gordon
Good. Stay put.
“See? You can’t leave now,” I say. “The trees.”
“There aren’t any between the gym and the shed.” He bends down and drops a kiss on my forehead. “I'll be right back. Promise.”
Before I can stop him, he takes off in the direction of the basketball courts, and I’m left alone in the weight room. For Dexter’s sake, I talked a big game about this storm not being a big deal, but the rain and winds are proving to be worse than anything I’ve been in.
A shiver racks my body, more from the nerves than the cold. Some of the trees on campus are so old, I’m not surprised their trunks are compromised. An arborist probably should’ve taken them down years ago. Especially the oaks along the science building. There’s one so close to the window in Dexter’s office, its branches scrape the glass.
Huh.
If that tree smashes the window, everything inside will be exposed to the storm. The last time I was in there, he still had all his files out of the cabinets, stacked on the desk and chairs and table-tops. He never finished reorganizing becausehe’s been so focused on the visitation. On me. Years of his work and all his records could be ruined.
And Clarence.
The lights flicker again, like a signal, and I know what I have to do. But I don’t want Dexter to panic if he returns and I’m not here, so I scrawl a hasty note on the whiteboard:
went to the bathroom
The girls’ locker room is attached to this building. He’ll assume I’m in there, and I’ll be back before he ever realizes I was gone. And then, without a second thought, I’m on the move, out the back door of the weight room.
The storm doesn’t just hit me, it devours me. The sky overhead is charcoal gray, and wind slams into my chest like a wall, stealing my breath. Hail blows in sideways, icy needles lashing my face. The air smells like wet mulch and ozone.
With my head ducked down, I start for the science building, my boots squelching through rainwater. The route looks like an obstacle course of trash cans, fallen limbs, and other random debris. Bits of gravel and leaves swirl around my feet. I should be focused on the path ahead, but I make the mistake of glancing to my right. And through sheets of rain, I see it.
The theater.
My heart leaps into my throat. A giant white oak appears to be gobbling the building. Windows are broken, the door is ajar. The storm took the whole tree down, partially caving in the roof. I gape for a moment, swiping streams of water from my face. But there’s nothing I can do for the theater now. I have to keep going.
With a shuddering breath, I press on toward the science building. I can only pray the tree outside Dex’s office is still standing. As I approach the entrance closest to his office, the door is blown wide open. Gordon must’ve come through herein a hurry, checking for students. Or else the wind is even more dangerous than I thought.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the second floor and dash down the hall to Dexter's office. After fumbling to unlock the door, I burst inside and see the window is still intact. The next thing I see is Clarence.
He’s still on top of a stack of files on the desk. Up close, the bear is smaller than I thought he was. He’s worn and matted with one button eye missing and a blue bow that’s faded over the years. My throat goes tight, and I zip him inside my drenched sweatshirt. Clara held this bear in her arms. Slept with him tucked into bed.
My teeth start chattering even as a wave of relief floods through me.
The thought is irrational, I know, but I just have to save him for Dex.
Before I leave, I use my body weight to propel one of the filing cabinets across the room, away from the window, just in case it cracks. Then I quickly stuff as many papers as I can back into the drawers. There’s no rhyme or reason to my method. I’m just hoping his records will stay dry if the window doesn’t hold.
At the very least, the papers won’t scatter in these horrible winds.
Either way, Dexter will be back in the weight room soon. He may already have returned. If he’s figured out I’m gone, I don’t want him to worry any longer than necessary. Racing down the stairs, I reach the still-open doors just as a shriek sounds overhead, cutting through the noise of the storm. Something must be tearing loose from the ceiling.
Maybe a light fixture or a beam. Or?—
Pain blooms at the top of my head, sudden and blinding, then the ground rises up to meet me. And I’m left alone with nothing but the darkness and the whisper of my own stuttering breath.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dex
