June 29

Three earthquakes. A soft one yesterday afternoon and two harder ones today, one early in the morning and another this afternoon. I got some good connection on my radio today and the news doesn't sound pleasant.

There have been reports of increased sulfur dioxide and other gas emissions from volcanoes and vents surrounding them in Northern California and the Cascade Range in Oregon. There are warnings that a volcanic eruption may occur soon, so they're trying to evacuate everyone out. The only problem is that there is no place to evacuate to. The big cities are destroyed. The suburban areas are powerless. The rural areas are simply unfit to handle massive amounts of people.

"What's going to happen to the evacuees?" I asked Dad.

"The government is going to find someplace to put them."

"What if they came to our city?" I asked.

"They won't," Dad said. "Even if they do, I'll make sure they don't get in."

I was shocked. Dad was always talking about having kindness and welcoming people (even if he didn't follow those principles).

"But why?" I asked.

"Our city doesn't have enough resources or room to fit everyone in. We have to take care of ourselves first before helping other people."

"Even if the other people die."

"We aren't even the safest community to live in. We're right next to the sea. If the tides get worse, they'll just have to move again."

"Why don't we move then?" I asked.

"Because it's safe here," he said. "There's no fuel and the best that we can hope for is that people and the government will come together and work things out."

I don't know. Will we ever be able to work things out and make everything better again? I want to believe so. But some part of me doubts that that'll happen. The tides, the earthquakes, the volcanic eruptions on the horizon. Everything seems to be getting worse every day.

Actually, one thing seems to be getting better. They've been bonding over their shared love-hate relationship with gardening. This afternoon, they've been trying to install wire cages from a sheet of mesh that Dad found in the garage around the tomato plants.

"What the hell is this manual saying," Mom yelled from the backyard.

I went out to take a look. They were sitting on the lawn chairs staring at a gardening book with dirty gloves splayed across the small table. "What's happening?" I asked.

"No one understands anything in this manual," Mira said. "Take a look."

There was some strange stuff written. I didn't understand a word. It had something to do with maintaining the pH of the soil, I think. "If they are going to sell this book. Might as well make it useful for people to at least understand," Mom fumed.

Mom gets a little hot headed when she gets frustrated, so I changed the subject. "How is the plant growing going?"

"Good," Mom said, brightening up. "Eggplants and zucchini are doing well. Tomatoes and squash could use some work. And the rest of the other plants are doing fine."

"What about growing cactus and succulents?" I added semi jokingly.

"We're not that desperate," Mira said.

"Exactly," Mom said. "It won't come down to that."

"I'm just saying. Just in case," I said.

At that moment, May popped out of the house. "I'd rather die than eat succulents."

"Don't say that," Mom scolded. "You might think that dying isn't serious, but it is and we're lucky to be alive when many people are facing a lot more suffering than us."

"Geez. I was just joking."

"We don't joke about that stuff anymore," Mom said. "Let's get back to work Mira, we have a lot to do."

They spent the rest of the day in the garden. Mira says that we might start getting fresh vegetables late in August. I'm not excited though. I hate eating most of the plants they're growing like eggplant, squash, and especially onions. Even with the thoughts of other people dying doesn't change my views. I still hate those vegetables.

June 30

It was hot and muggy today. Sweat was beading on my forehead even inside my house and Mom and Mira took a day off from the garden to sit around, fan themselves, and relax. I wanted to skip work today, but Mom and Dad both said no.

When I went to work today, Charles was unusually excited. "We're going to do something interesting today," he announced.

"What's up with all this energy?" I asked. "You looked like you were going to die on Sunday."

"Bad day," he said. "I didn't get enough sleep."

His answer felt like a lie, but I shrugged it off. Some part of me just appreciated all this positive energy. "What are we going to be doing?" I asked.

"It's a secret," he said.

"If we're going somewhere, I'm going to have to tell my parents first."

"Just paste a note on your door," he said. "Tell them you'll be back home around half an hour after the sun sets."

"Sunset? That's a long time."

"Just do it," he said.

"Fine," I said. "But it better be worth it."

Our shirts were damp, clinging to our skin as the sun descended down the sky. The director of the garden volunteering program handed out bottles of water and saltines and reminded us to stay hydrated and if anyone is feeling sick or dizzy, they should tell him immediately. We worked an extra half hour today because some people didn't come, and there was a lot to get done.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

After we logged our volunteer hours on a clipboard, I turned towards Charles. "It's so hot right now. Maybe we should do whatever you have planned tomorrow or some other day."

"Don't worry, the heat is not going to be a problem," he replied.

"Fine," I said. "Let's go to my house first and then we'll go wherever you are going to."

When I got home, I told Mom that I was going out with Charles. Dad was at another one of those city meetings. Mom told me that I shouldn't stay out too late (not like anyone can tell the time anymore) and to be safe.

I kept asking Charles about where we were going. We were heading away from his house, passing by the oil railroad tracks and lush lawns of the mansions and the rotting husks of the sunken houses. We arrived at a small community and Charles opened the wooden gate surrounding one of the houses.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "There could be people still living there."

"Everyone's gone," he said. "Haven't you noticed."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You've been to the food drives, right?" he asked.

"Not recently. My dad's mostly been doing it."

"My parents make me come every week, and the lines have been getting shorter and shorter," he said. "Lots of people are saying that we're never going to get power back again, so they're moving to Texas and New Mexico since they have lots of oil and gas."

"So this whole neighborhood is deserted."

"The last person left around a week ago."

"How do you even know so much about this place?" I asked. "Please don't tell me you are stalking these houses."

"No," he said. "Not really. Follow me and I'll tell you how I found out."

"Fine."

I followed him through the back gate and into the yard. Below the deck was a sloped hill leading to a creek. A tire swing hung from a large oak tree bordering the silt and stone streaked shore of the river.

"How'd you find out about this?" I asked.

"This was my old home," he said.

"I thought you always lived wherever you live right now."

"I moved there a long time ago, but this was my first home."

"Okay," I said. "That still doesn't explain how you found out that this place was empty."

"I went to take a jog around the neighborhood some time back and decided to go and visit my old neighborhood. Most of the driveways were empty and a couple of days ago, all of the driveways emptied out," he said. "No one's using these houses, so I thought it would be nice to cool down somewhere."

"Wait a second," I said. "So you stalked your old house and waited until everyone left, so you could waltz in and claim it for yourself."

"You know what?" he said. "The details don't matter."

He then took off his shirt and waded into the water. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Swimming," he said. "That's what we came here for."

"You know that I hate swimming," I said. "I'm not even dressed in the proper clothes."

"Just get in with whatever you're wearing," he said. "The sun will dry off everything else."

"That still doesn't change the fact that I hate swimming."

"Fine," he said. "But you're missing out."

"Whatever," I said.

I sat on a couple of rocks by the stream while he swam in the middle of the river. Around mid-afternoon, the heat was so bad that I decided to dip my toes in the water. Charles declared victory in his mission to get me to swim in the water. He called it "baby steps". We talked a bit after he stepped out of the water, dripping wet.

"We should have a bucket-list," he said as he sat next to me.

"Isn't that what older people do?" I said.

"No," he said. "Well, maybe. I'm not sure. But that's not the point. The point is that we should make a list of five goals that we want to accomplish over summer."

"List of goals? That sounds so much like school."

"Dreams," he said. "Some stuff that we want to do before summer ends and we're back to school to try to make sure to do everything before everything returns back to normal."

"I don't know," I said.

"Just think about it," he said, turning towards me with a mischievous grin. "Because my first goal is to get you into the water."

He kicked up water at me. "What the heck was that for?" I yelled.

"See," he said. "Getting wet isn't so bad."

"Screw you."

"You either get into the water by yourself or I'm going to force you."

"You'll pay for this," I said. "That's going to be the first thing on my bucket list. 'Make Charles do something dumb.'"

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Get into the water."

I waded in knee deep. "It's cold!" I exclaimed.

"That's the point. It's a hot day."

"You will pay for this," I said, and he laughed.

It wasn't as cold after I dipped my whole body into the water. He took a couple of swings in the tire swing and told me to ride on it. I wasn't allowed to refuse because it was part of the spirit of this bucket list wish. I guess it was fun, but I think I swallowed too much water. We crawled out of the water and sat on the ground as the air turned golden and the sun's glare began to wane.

"You have a great time today?" Charles asked.

"It was okay," I said. Today was actually good, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!"

"Liar. Liar."

"Fine," I said. "Today was better than okay."

"So you had a great time."

"Interpret whatever I said however you want to," I said.

"So you did have a good time."

"If you insist so," I said.

We sat and watched the sun slowly dip as the shadows grew longer and the sky blossomed with pinks and oranges. This is what the end of the world felt like. Surprisingly peaceful and oddly tinged with happiness. I turned towards Charles. "Do you ever wish that the world, you know, will never get back to normal?"

He looked at me. "You wanna answer first," he said.

I bit my lip. "I mean I want the electricity to come back and the internet and everything that we lost when the power went out. But it's like I also don't want everything to get back to normal because that means that the colleges and universities will open and then I'll have to get internships and more serious jobs and volunteer work. All of that adult life future stuff just feels so big and so overwhelming."

"I mean I agree with all that. Sometimes I wish I could just never grow up."

"Really?" I asked. "I thought you were serious about colleges and stuff."

"I am," he said. "When everything gets back to normal, I'll probably do some internship or volunteering and focus on college and stuff. But with everything happening and everyone saying that it's the end of the world, none of that feels important. This summer, or at least a portion of it, feels like a chance to relive our childhood even though we're a lot older."

"So if you could just snap your fingers right now and make everything back to the way it was before, would you?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

I sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. "I don't think I would."

A flash of disgust appeared on his face before disappearing immediately. Or maybe it was a flash of understanding. I couldn't tell. We sat next to each other in silence for a couple of minutes. "That was some heavy stuff," he said.

"Yeah..." I replied. "You want to talk about something else."

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"The sun has basically set," I said. "What are we going to do half an hour after it's gone?"

"Stargazing," he said. "We're going stargazing."

"Stargazing?"

"Yeah, stargazing," he said. "Without all the light pollution, we might even be able to see the Milky Way."

"See, look at that bright dot in the sky. That's—"

"Venus," I interrupted. "The second brightest object in the sky after the Moon."

"You know astronomy?" he asked.

"I'm more surprised that you know astronomy," I said. "Didn't you want to do business stuff in the future?"

"I found a book about stars in the library and there's been a lot of time on my hands," he said. "It's too bad that the Moon is in the way of everything."

The Moon stood bright in the sky, a beacon in the darkness of the night. I wonder what people are thinking about when they look into the night sky and see that silver coin gazing down at them. Do they look up at the sky and curse at the Moon for bringing death and destruction, for changing everything and making the world so radically different? Or do people bless the Moon for changing the world, giving people a chance to have something different in their lives?

We laid on our backs and looked into the clear night sky. "Is that the North Star?"

"No," he said and guided my arm. "That's the one."

He turned his head towards me. "I wish we had a telescope."

"My Dad had one in the garage. We haven't used it since the day of the Mooncrash."

"I wish you had brought it."

"You should've told me earlier."

"True," he said. "We should do this again, but with a telescope."

"Yeah."

We gazed at the faint flecks of light in the sky for a couple of minutes. It was difficult to see much. The Moon was simply too bright. It's definitely a curse for stargazing. After some time, we got up and started walking home. The neighborhood was quiet. No growling cars, chattering of family gatherings, rumbling of airplanes in the distance. Only the chirping of crickets and faint crashing of the waves.