Abandon - Meg Cabot [82]
I didn’t laugh. “Really,” I said again. “I think you should —”
“I don’t think you’re going to see any action tonight because of the rain,” the cemetery sexton interrupted me again. “But the officers have the keys to get into my office if you need anything, and of course the chief of police has my home number. Have fun. And be safe.”
She grinned and saluted, then rode off. I looked behind us as Mr. Smith hit the power window to close it.
“Why didn’t you make her get in the car?” I demanded. “That’s completely nuts, riding around on a bike in this weather —”
“Probably the safest night shift she could pull,” he said, “with this silly program your school has. Pairing teachers up with the police. Makes no sense to me. Nothing they teach you kids in school today makes sense to me.”
“She’s not a teacher,” I said, still looking back at her bike lights as she pedaled away. “She’s a counselor. And she’s really nice. This is so stupid.”
“It doesn’t matter. No one’s going to be out on a night like this, anyway. And what did you mean, make her get in the car? You’re a strange girl. How, precisely, do you make a woman like that do anything? You saw her; she’s having fun. She’ll be perfectly safe, just like you were, the many times you rode your bike through my cemetery. Nothing bad will happen to her. John will see to that.”
“John told me the cemetery wasn’t safe,” I explained to him. “He told me that last night. He told me never to come back. He said if I did, I’d end up dead, forever this time. That’s when he kicked the gate.”
Mr. Smith chuckled. “That sounds like John. Was that before or after he threw the necklace?”
“It’s not funny,” I said with a scowl. “Why would he say it wasn’t safe if he didn’t mean it?”
“He meant it wasn’t safe for you,” the cemetery sexton said. “Because you were clearly aggravating him so much, he felt like killing you. But he didn’t mean it literally. He was exaggerating to make a point. John’s never killed a woman yet — that I know of — and if he were to start now, I assume he’d kill you, not your guidance counselor. Good Lord, do they teach you nothing in school these days? Have you ever heard of hyperbole? I highly suggest you look up the word, Miss Oliviera, if you intend to pursue a relationship with a death deity.”
I’d given up after that. Especially later, after having cleared the dishes and made a halfhearted attempt at my homework — I had to at least look as if I were trying — I turned on the eleven o’clock forecast and saw that Isla Huesos was now dead center inside the three-day cone of uncertainty. Forecasters were still calling it a watch, so no evacuations were being announced, but officials were encouraging those living in “low-lying or flood-prone areas” to take necessary precautions. And since the bridges that attached Isla Huesos to the mainland would close once winds reached seventy miles per hour, those who wished to relocate needed to do it soon, especially because they were opening up only one shelter, way up in Key Largo.
“Mom,” I said nervously. “Are you seeing this? Should we evacuate or something?”
Mom was on her laptop.
“Oh, honey,” she said distractedly. “It’s only a watch. And it’s going to hit Cuba first. These storms always die down over Cuba. And they haven’t even canceled school tomorrow. If they haven’t canceled school, it’s nothing. Trust me on this. So I hope you really did do your homework” — she grinned at me — “because there’s no chance you’re getting out of it.”
I turned off the TV, feeling dejected. Not that I’d been hoping for a hurricane to come and hit my school. Only a little kid would want something like that.
But when I’d flicked on the lights in the garage while getting my book bag earlier and seen the four-by-eights Seth had left there, leaning up against all the outdoor furniture Uncle Chris had left stacked so neatly, I wondered how was I going to break the news to Alex that I was on the Coffin Night