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The Rest of Us Just Live Here Page 63
Author: Patrick Ness

The police are saying a gas main exploded.

A gas main.

The only person who died was an indie kid called Madison who was in Calc with me and Jared. I spoke to her a bunch of times in class. She was definitely not stupid, but they say she was smoking outside the amphitheatre after dropping off her sister at the concert and it ignited a leaky gas main.

Bullshit.

First of all, why does a teeny tiny amphitheatre in the middle of a field at the state’s smallest county fair have a gas main running right behind its only stage?

Second of all, Madison used an inhaler so totally didn’t smoke.

Third of all, bull and shit.

Lots of people were hurt, including Bolts of Fire – so the rest of the entire world hates our little town now – plus Carly’s mom and nurse. No one very badly, though. Four of five Bolts of Fire still performed “bravely” the next night in the big city while the blond one got his front teeth replaced.

Carly didn’t get hurt at all, which is one small blessing. One very small blessing if that’s all you’ve got when you have terminal cancer and the concert of your dreams is blown up.

Meredith got treated for shock at the scene by Call Me Steve, who was the first person Mel phoned.

He showed up in an ambulance, saw to Meredith, kissed Mel really hard, then ran off to help other people.

I like him.

Our mom just cried. Genuinely, I’ll give her that, and for all of us, too, not just Meredith. “That someone could do this,” she choked out, in front of a bunch of journalists when people still thought it was a bomb, “in a place where my children are…”

But she hugged us. I thought she’d never stop. “You’re sure you’re not hurt. You’re sure?”

“Just a little freaked out,” Mel said. “More than a little, actually.”

And our mom hugged us again. She didn’t even yell at us for not letting her come along to the concert to be exploded herself.

Quite a few news crews ended up getting footage of Mel attacking Cynthia. So far, it’s actually helped my mom’s campaign. “I thought it was a terrorist attack,” Mel told the cameras, keeping a straight face that I’ll remember with joy until I die. “And suddenly here was someone identifying me as a politician’s daughter. I thought I was a target, so I protected my younger brother and sister.”

There will be no charges filed, not even for the pad Cynthia was using, which Mel, perhaps unnecessarily, broke in two by stomping on it. Cynthia blogged about it all. I don’t think anyone cared.

“Bet that was pretty awful, huh, Merde Breath?” Jared says, squeezing the life out of her, her little bare feet a metre off the ground.

“Uh-huh,” Meredith says, muffled, into his neck. “And don’t call me that.”

He sets her down, hands on her shoulders, and looks her in the eye. They just stare at each other for a minute, then she smiles. “Your hands are getting hot,” she says. “But I’m okay.”

He smiles back at her. “You sure?”

She nods. “But show me the lights anyway.”

He checks to make sure my parents aren’t watching – which is for show, as we all know they’re both out of the house or he wouldn’t even be here – then pulls his hands slightly away, casting a light down her arms from the palms of his hands. She giggles and throws her arms around his enormous legs in a last hug. She’s slept in Mel’s bed the past two nights since the explosion. I can’t blame her, and I don’t think Mel’s in any hurry to get her out either. None of us have been back to school yet, but I think today is pushing it. It’s not actually that much fun missing school when there’s so little of it left.

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