“Can we just get going? Do we have to wait for your neighbor to come up?”
“Mrs. Worthington has a spare key,” I say while clasping her hand in mine. “So let’s do this.”
“Thank you, Maximus,” she rasps against my arm. “Thank you.”
But the fervency of her voice still isn’t matched by her breaths, even after we get down to the garage and hurry into the truck. During the quick but stressful drive to campus, she’s still jittery and unsettled.
I let her fidget, hoping she receives my reassuring mental wavelengths as I navigate the debris-strewn streets. Luckily, LAPD is out to direct traffic and keep a sense of calm, but as we get our first up-close views of the physical damage from the quakes, it starts adding up to an eerie homecoming.
By the time we pull into the parking lot closest to the Alameda Arena, where the response center has been set up, Kara’s more controlled on the outside, despite the anxiety still churning in her big brown eyes. Though I know she’s anxious to jump out and get to Kell, I reach over and firmly pick up her hand.
“Everything’s going to be okay, beautiful.”
She nods but hardly means it. “Even you can’t promise me that.”
I frown, wishing I could disagree with her, but she’s right.
Her nervousness doesn’t prepare me for her lithe dismount from the passenger side of the truck. The effect is strengthened by how she pauses in front of the truck’s grill, waiting for me like she’s standing on a red carpet in an evening gown instead of her baggy-chic ensemble.
If I could take a longer moment to admire her fortitude, how she’s holding herself together despite the crap numbers that keep coming up for the dice tosses of her life, I’d take it. But I have to settle for getting back to her side and hoping my fierce kiss to her forehead adequately does the job.
Just in case it doesn’t, I squeeze her hand and murmur, “You can handle anything that comes your way. You’ve been to hell and back. Literally.”
“So have you.”
I nod solemnly. “I guess that makes us a pretty good team.” I pause, taking in the worried contours of her face. “In case you didn’t already know it, I’m not going anywhere.”
She accepts that with a brief clench back at my fingers, right before we enter the circle of frantic energy that surrounds Alameda Arena’s front entrance. The building, which easily accommodates thousands, is a good choice to relieve the capacity load from the local hospitals.
That being said, the crowd at the entrance fits every frenzied dystopian movie I’ve ever seen. First responders of all sorts are hurrying back and forth, threading through the mobs crowding the marquee monitors that would normally advertise college events and traveling theatrical shows in the arena. Tonight, they display a terse grid that’s filled with peoples’ names, along with their admission time and treatment status.
When we near the outskirts of the crowd, Kara starts popping up on her toes. “Damn it. I can’t see a thing.”
“Maybe I can help.”
The offer, from a female off to my right, is vaguely familiar. I turn and study the pleasant smile of the woman who’s stopped next to us, feeling lousy that I don’t recognize her. The situation clearly isn’t the same from her end, because her smile stretches farther toward the short, red-tinged curls that are kept back from her face by a sparkly brass headband. The hair gear is the only notable thing about her basic black attire, consisting of a T-shirt with Staff emblazoned on the front, black leggings, and functional flats.
“Professor Kane. I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but given the circumstances…”
“Professor Levin.” Kara gets my thankful glance as she pivots and greets the law professor with the strangely shiny eyes who first chatted with us on Saturday night. “You’re helping out tonight?” Kara nervously asks, eyeing the smart pad in Erin’s grasp.
Erin replies by twirling a stylus with a flourish. “They need everyone they can get. If the situation weren’t so awful, I’d be enjoying the chance to get out from my paper-grading mountain.”
“No kidding,” I reply. “But nevertheless, you’ve got a good soul for being out here to help.”
Erin swooshes her hand, as if to give me a Hollywood-style Oh, stop. “Please, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
I take a second to simply stare, wondering if I’m correctly reading her kidding-not-kidding subtext. But before I can zero all the way in, Kara gestures again at Erin’s screen. “Do you have an updated list? I’m desperately looking for someone.”
Erin gives her an empathetic look. “I’m not sure, but maybe we can give it a whirl. Who are you looking for?”
We’re interrupted once more, this time by a commanding tug on my elbow. I whip around with a glare before opening my arms and crushing our interloper in a ferocious hug.
“Mom.”
I bury my nose in her ponytailed hair. It smells like it always does: something fruity that she grabbed on special at the drugstore because she liked the cute packaging. Her embrace matches mine for the lung-crushing factor, but she leaves me in the dust when it comes to emotional intensity. But during the seconds she’d normally take to pull back and examine my face for everything from exhaustion to insecurity, she’s already swinging away to haul Kara into a Nancy Kane Special of a clinch.
“Hi,” she finally says. “I’m Nancy, and I’m sorry we can’t be doing this over large glasses of wine and a cheese plate. God knows we’ll need plenty of that kind of thing when this is past us.”
“So happy to meet you. I’m…Kara.”
“Hello.” Erin offers her hand between the two other women. “Erin Levin. I’m a professor here too.”
“Oh?” Mom shakes Erin’s proffered hand but keenly narrows her gaze. “Are you in the literature department with Maximus?”
Erin shakes her head. “I’m filling in at the law school.”
“Ah. Okay.”
But weirdly, my mother’s tone communicates the opposite. At once, I try to decipher that unnerving change. The sociability, spread so thin on a base of suspiciousness, isn’t like her at all—even if it dissipates as rapidly as it’s arrived.
“I’m sorry we don’t have more time for introductions, but I need you two to follow me,” Mom says with renewed purpose. “This way.”
As we walk along a shadowy path along the side of the building, Mom glances back a few times to make sure we’re keeping up.
“Is Kell really here? We didn’t see her name on the intake boards.” I’m worried about getting Kara’s hopes up, but I also don’t want her to endure unnecessary stress if Kell is safe and well.
“We kept her off deliberately,” Mom explains. “For a thousand reasons you can both fill in for yourselves.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, feeling dumb for not putting that one together myself. “Nothing like a media mob to make your jobs harder. Thank you, Mom.”
“I’ve got your back forever and always, beautiful boy.”
Kara gives me an affectionate side-bump without breaking our pace. “Your awesomeness is starting to make some sense, Mr. Kane.”