Eruption (Yellowblown™ Book 1) (12 page)

We found a patch of sunlight in the otherwise shady park.

I hadn’t considered the need to take off my bike helmet in my acceptance of this stop. I did what he did. I tugged it off and forced my fingers through my hair, pulling out my hairband and ponytail in the process.

We both stretched for a few minutes, then Boone jogged across the street to a coffee shop to get us each a soda, and he bought a huge chocolate chip cookie and a newspaper
, too. He flopped down in the grass, facing me as we split the cookie. I rotated to sit shoulder to shoulder when he opened the paper. The sun warmed my back and everything felt perfectly right with the world.

U
ntil I read the scary headlines.

“Have you heard from your parents?”
I asked.

He pointed to a paragraph about cell service. “I couldn’t get through yesterday
, but Mom called me, late. They’re worried about Drew. I spent most of last night surfing the Internet, trying to find people to contact to let him know what’s going on when he comes out of the wilderness.”

“He should be safe up there, though,” I said.

“Yeah, but he practically runs our ranch now. Dad knows what to do, but it’s a lot for him. He won’t admit it, but he gets tired easily. We’d all feel better if Drew helped call the shots. I offered to go home. They both said no.”

“Is there ash there yet?”

“Mom says yes. Dad said it’s the usual Nebraska grit.”

“Who do you believe?”

“Mom. She’s the realist in the family, bordering on pessimist.”

I leaned against him, loving the solidity of his shoulder
, even if we were both damp and probably smelly. Our two bikes lay on the grass, side by side, and the couplehood gave me the same pathetic pleasure his drink from my water bottle had on Friday.

He bumped his elbow against my arm.
“Sorry I didn’t text you or anything yesterday. I got caught up in Alaska emergency services.”

“No biggie. Who all did you try?”

“Red Cross, the governor’s office, and Emergency Management in the part of Alaska he’s in. Did you know Alaska doesn’t have counties, they have boroughs? It took me a half hour to figure out what I was looking for. Mom contacted his airline, too, though they have no reason to know anything about him for another week. He’d changed his itinerary going out to have a day’s layover in San Fran, which she’d known nothing about.”

I pointed to the headline about all the flight cancellations and the graphic with a big red circle showing the no-fly area that definitely included all of Nebraska. “
How will he get home?”

“I dunno. He might fly here
, and I’ll drive him.”

“
That would suck,” I blurted, thinking only of myself. “I mean, it’s a lot of driving for you.”

“Would you miss me?” he teased.

“Maybe.” My coy smile gave away the truth. I unscrewed the lid to my soda bottle to take a drink. “I was surprised they had the game yesterday. I’ll bet you got wet.”

“
Not like the players.” He braced his arm behind me and set his chin on my shoulder. “It would’ve been more fun if you’d been there.”

“Oh, yeah, Cramer would have loved that.”

I knew what he wanted, though, and I wanted it too, so I angled my face toward his.

The perfect kiss, with the grass and sun and sweetness of chocolate chip cookie on our lips, made me smile against his mouth.

“Why do you always smile whe
n we kiss?” he whispered, his breath warm on my cheek.

Truth or dare. How much to admit? How much to hide? I’d decided,
after the Parker disaster, I only wanted honest relationships, so I had to tell the truth, though the Nikki debacle tempered the truth rule to apply to my truths, not other’s. “Because it’s still a surprise I get to be with you,” I said as I twined my hand in his. Truth.

He rubbed his thumb over mine. “
You shouldn’t be surprised.”

I shrugged
, the Not Into You phase still too recent to forget.

“You know what? I’ll bet I can really surprise you. I
t’s not a total coincidence we ran into each other today.”

Another echo, another lesson from
Parker sent a chill down my otherwise balmy spine.

“I drove by in my truck once last year when you were stopped at the end of the farm lane
. Since then, I’ve biked that road often, hoping to run into you. Today, I got lucky.”

What had been
beautiful serendipity now sounded mildly sinister. “You said you weren’t stalking me.”

“I’m
not stalking you. I hoped to run into you.”

“If you wanted to go on a bike ride, why didn’t you ask me?”

“Because it seems like something you like to do on your own most of the time. I hoped you might ask
me
.” He leaned forward to search my face. “Tell me why my trying to bump into you is a bad thing.”

“Parker,” I said. I tried to extricate my hand but Boone held it firm.

“Your ex.”

I looked across the park at a guy playing Frisbee with his dog.
“He knew my routine, we shared all the same friends. After we broke up, he used to show up at places he knew I’d be. It creeped me out until he finally…moved on.”

“Does he still bother you? Has he ever
shown up on campus?” he asked sharply.

I
pulled my hand away this time. “Don’t go all RA on me, Boone Ramer. I’m not one of your freshman charges.”

“This isn’t me b
eing an RA. If some guy is bothering you, I’m interested on a whole different level than an RA would be.”

My stare cut into him. “Well, there’s this one boy who rides the route he knows I take on my bike until he happens to run into me. You gonna go all western on his ass?”

A flush of red crept up his neck. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He took my hand back and I let him, my indignation already burned out. “Look,” he said, “you know I’m not a creep. I’m not an Eagle Scout and I’m not a serial killer. I’m a normal guy somewhere in between. Probably closer to Eagle Scout, admittedly.”

“I know
, Dudley.”

“You’
re going to wear that out, aren’t you?”

I snickered.

“Seriously, I told you I knew where you ride to prove you shouldn’t be surprised by my wanting to spend time with you. I kept my distance because I had to, but I’ve been hoping to hang out with you for a long time.”

There was a fight I could pick about
that
statement, too, but I decided I needed to let some things slide instead of over-thinking.

“And since you don’t like surprises, how about we plan another ride later this week?

What’s your schedule like on Tuesday afternoons?” he asked.

“Um, I have a one o
'clock, then I’m done.”

“
We’ll make it work. There’s rail-trail northeast of here I thought we both might like. If we left at 2:30, we’d have a few hours of riding time.”

I pulled a few
more blades of grass out, but my grin gave away my enthusiasm for a planned afternoon with him. “Sounds great.”

“I’ll come by your dorm with my truck.”
 

 

The endorphin-and-Hotness high lasted through dinner with Mia. After a twenty-six mile ride, I pounded some calories, going back for seconds of the institutional mac and cheese. Nectar from the gods for a starving college student.

Most
NFL football games had been cancelled, partly out of respect for the tens of thousands of citizens from Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana who were presumed dead, and partly because national travel already presented challenges. Arch-rivals Baltimore and Pittsburgh decided to play, and the Case Study bulged at the walls with the crowd of students hungry for a distraction from volcano coverage. A few suicide risks wore Raven purple in a sea of Steelers black and gold.

I noticed Twyla draped over the back of a couch, her lips near the ear of a jock wearing a Copperheads Football shirt with the sleeves cut off
, his chest wide as a piece of poster board. His shoulder caught her chin when he leaped up to shout at the referee on the screen.

Twyla swatted at his back. “He can’t hear you,
Omar.” She couldn’t see him roll his eyes, but I could, and I almost felt sorry for her. She noticed me skirting the noisy crowd and didn’t try to hide a smirk when she didn’t see Boone nearby.

“Meow,” I whispered to myself.

Back at the dorm, I managed a few hours of half-hearted studying before wandering down the hall to the lounge to watch the news. The newscasters rarely altered from noisy, talk-on-top-of-each-other discussions, perfect parallels to the chaotic national situation. Tonight, though, they played a short clip of a comedian/social commentator who’d lost his usual time slot to the redundant coverage of the eruption.

“Insurance companies are already crying over spilled lava.
Flooded by hurricane claims in the south, they are now buried in losses from Yellowblown.”

Yellowblown
, I thought.
Seems like the perfect description to me.
 

 

A full complement of Intro to Geo. students waited on Monday morning for a late Dr. Potter. I’d never seen so many people packed in the room, to the point there were three kids I didn’t recognize sitting in my geeky, suddenly claustrophobic second row. Dr. Potter and Boone’s conspicuous absences agitated the throng until Dr. Banks, the head of the department, strode into the classroom at 9:15 with Boone close behind.

“Good morning, folks,” the balding, pot-bellied professor said. “Dr. Potter had an unexpected family emergency. You each have a syllabus, I trust. Mr. Ramer showed me where you are, so continue through Chapter Six. Dr. Potter or one of the other professors will be here on Wednesday morning.”

Several students raised their hands. He pointed to one.

“Sir, could you, like, explain what is going on
with the volcano?”

The prof sighed
, but I could see a spark of scientific fervor in his posture. Being a geologist right now must be like having a pilot’s license after a major plane crash—everybody wanted your knowledge. He summarized what Dr. Potter had told Boone and me on Friday, effectively scaring the hell out of everyone.

After a few follow-up questions, he lifted his hands palms out toward us. “Look, I know everyone is starving for information, but my mineralogy cl
ass is waiting down the hall. You’ll find a list of reputable websites posted on our department webpage, and we’re compiling an overview of the Yellowstone Caldera to share with the campus. We are far enough from the volcano to be safe from the direct effects. As for the indirect effects, only time will tell. Now, I’m sorry for the inconvenience this morning, but I’ve got a scheduled class.”

Students
conversed as they filed out of their seats, most about the dire potential of Yellowstone. A few clueless wonders were more worried about the missed class.

“Potter could have sent an email,” one complained.