I knew he was kidding, but the snark soured my mood.
Forget next month. God, what will tomorrow be like if the news is bad?
"You're probably rooting for a direct strike," I said, trying to play it off. "No exams."
"But what of us, then?" Tack's eyes twinkled as he snatched my hand in his. "If the Anvil is destined to flatten Idaho, I want to spend my last moments with you, rolling down hills like we did as carefree children. Such precious memories! Like happy raindrops, double rainbows of-"
"Oh, shut up." I shouldered him lightly, pulling my fingers free. The bump triggered a dull ache in my shoulder. I rubbed the half-moon scar under my sleeve. It always stung after one of my "special" birthdays.
My thoughts darkened, snapshots of the attack I'd suffered strobing inside my head.
The world might be about to end, but what did I care?
My world ended all the time.
I stayed silent as we passed the library, reaching the school zone at the end of the street. Fire Lake has one large campus for all three divisions. The two lower schools flank the road, which dead-ends into the high school parking lot.
The spaces were mostly empty.
"Told you." Tack absently stroked a bruise on his chin. I knew where he got them from, and we didn't talk about that, either. "Half this stupid town is probably hiding under their beds right now." His expression darkened as he scuffed a ratty sneaker on the blacktop. "Maybe they're not so dumb. Why go to school if you're about to be sentenced to death?"
I flinched. Tack misread me. Slid an arm around my shoulder.
"Why don't we meet up after school?" His searching glance was thwarted by my new sunglasses. "We can watch the Announcement at Bedfellow's. If the news is thumbs-up, we can probably score some free drinks."
I shook my head. "I promised Mom I'd be home. She's been carrying around her mother's old Bible all week. You know how she gets. Virginia is dead certain the Anvil will smash directly through our roof."
"This is prime asteroid country," Tack said lightly as we cut through the parking lot. "Space rocks probably feel right at home in the Gem State. Our incinerated remains will provide a warm welcome."
I couldn't help but shudder. "There's a giant headline on CNN calling it a planet killer. They even made a freaking GIF of the world getting crushed. Who the hell wants to see that? If it strikes anywhere on Earth-"
"THE AGE OF HUMANS SHALL BE NO MORE!" Tack spread his arms wide, a thin smile curling his lips. But I noticed that his hands shook slightly. Even Tack Russo struggled to mock the legitimate prospect of annihilation. He was as scared as everyone else.
Everyone except me.
I'd tried to make the asteroid feel real. I knew the Anvil came from outside our solar system, a deadly ball of carbon, nickel, and iron twelve miles in diameter and traveling at an insane speed of 300 kilometers per second, and that an impact from such an object would deliver the kinetic force of more than a billion hydrogen bombs. First spotted three weeks ago, it was just now passing the outer planets. It would strike or slide by in just over a month.
Initial odds had been given as one-in-seven. A week later, that was revised negatively to two-out-of-five. In the last few days, some independent scientists online had moved to fifty-fifty, ratcheting global tension to a boiling point. Thus, the Announcement that evening-an official answer to the are-we-all-going-to-die question. Less than twelve hours, and counting.
Yet our little town had decided everything would go on like normal. School. Business. Public services. The leaders of Fire Lake had planted their heads firmly in the sand, and were inviting all citizens down there with them. Surprisingly, most were going along with it, even me. I guess pretending everything's okay is more comfortable than admitting things really, truly might not be.
Personally, I felt almost nothing. The concept of a worlddestroying super-boulder was simply too abstract for me. Twenty-fours hours ago, a man had broken into my mobile home at dawn. He shot me through the shoulder and chest, then twice more in the head.
That was real. That was something to fear.
Wayward space rocks? I couldn't get there. Maybe I was in denial.
"How about we get together afterward?" Tack was refusing to take no for an answer. We'd reached the walkway to the courtyard, and would hit a crowd in moments. "Rain or shine. Come on! If it's bad news, we can hike out to the old miner's hut and discuss what to wear for 'death by interstellar debris.' Work on our hoarding strategies."
I took a deep breath. Nodded. "If I can slip away."
"It's a date!" Tack shouted, then charged up the walkway, arms thrust skyward as he continued yelling, "A date! A date! An end-of-the-world date!"
"Not a date, you moron!" But I laughed.
At least one resident of Fire Lake had something to cheer about.
4
I hurried to my locker before the bell rang.
Head down, I strode quickly down the hall with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I'd never be described as outgoing, but that morning I was aiming for invisible.
One thing about me: I don't make friends easily. Ability to Trust seems to be a prerequisite for lasting relationships, and I'm usually short on that count. I rarely share things about myself, and that self-imposed isolation has consequences.
Being honest, it's probably more than just the murders. I know I see the world differently than others. I can be aloof. And at Fire Lake High School-where acceptance of quirks is always in short supply-that lands you on the outside looking in.
I'd become comfortable as an outcast. Relished it, almost.
So, of course, that morning I got cornered by the people I least wanted to see.
"Hey, Melinda!" Ethan called out, strolling down the hall in his letterman's jacket. He had close-cut blond hair and a sharp-nosed face that was gorgeous until you realized what a prick he was. His small mouth was bent in a smile. He loved using my full name, because I hated it. A handful of kids followed on his heels.
My gaze flicked from face to face. Ethan. Sarah Harden, and her cheerleading BFF Jessica Cale. The Nolan twins, with their flaming red hair. Noah Livingston. Charlie Bell, acne scars and all. Toby Albertsson.
A group I would charitably describe as Worst-Case Scenario.
I'd known Ethan since third grade, and we'd never gotten along. The others were okay individually-like it or not, we'd grown up in a giant puppy pile our whole lives-but they could be ugly when forming a mob. Which they were doing right now.
Ethan leaned against the locker next to mine. The others fanned out with varying degrees of interest. Sarah and Jessica barely spared me a glance, chattering nervously about the latest Announcement predictions. A school-wide beauty contest would rank them one and two, though they'd knife each other over who got top billing.
Noah hung back, scrolling his phone. A handsome boy with light brown hair and green eyes, he rarely spoke around me, or much at all. His father owned the ski resort on the northern slopes and was the richest man in town. The other four boys, however-Chris and Mike Nolan, Charlie, and Toby-gave me their undivided attention.
"Can I help you, Ethan?" In as neutral a tone as I could manage.
"I was just wondering about your disaster preparedness." His ice-blue eyes attempted an earnest look. "Is the trailer park ready for an Anvil strike?"
At mention of the asteroid, a wave of apprehension swept through the group-a subtle, dancing poltergeist of fear. I noticed little signs, things that most people might not pick up on but to me were practically shouts. Chris Nolan's eyelids tightened, while his brother shuffled his feet. Charlie's knuckles whitened on the textbook he was carrying. Sarah faltered in her gossiping, a hand shooting up to rake her strawberry-blond hair.
"Ready as anywhere," I replied dully, closing my locker. "Since it doesn't matter where the thing hits."
Toby snorted. Chris nodded, as if I'd scored a point.
"Mobile homes aren't really built for sturdiness," Ethan said matter-of-factly, toying with a nearby lock. "One good thing is, you won't lose much if it gets compacted."
Heat rose to my face. I glanced at Noah, who was frowning at his Apple Watch. Not joining in, but not lifting a finger to help me, either.
My gaze dropped. Why look to him? Noah was good-looking- tall and wiry, with the build of a swimmer, and sporting the best car, clothes, and lifestyle of anyone in Fire Lake-but he never took a side on anything. Or even much interest, as far as I could tell.
Yet something about him always stuck in my brain. Maybe it was sharing a birthday. All those times we were forced to stand side by side in elementary school, listening to the other kids mumble that lame song. Celebrating a day I'd come to dread.
Fire Lake High was the only upper school in town, with just 220 students. The fault lines were mostly about money and sports. Pretty girls could cheerlead a path to popularity, of course. A quarter of the school's parents employed the rest, a fact no one ever forgot. The fissures began appearing in middle school and never healed.