Towering - By Alex Flinn Page 0,32

got pizza, and Mrs. Greenwood said, “Do you ever think how you’d deal with a situation like that?”

“Like what? Like in the movie?” We’d gotten pepperoni, and it was actually pretty good, even though it was upstate New York pizza instead of real New York pizza.

“Yes. If the world was gone wrong, would you be one of the people fighting against the problem or one of the people ignoring it?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know. I mean, everyone thinks they’d be one of the fighters, the Guy Montag or Katniss Everdeen. But in movies like that, there’s always one person raging against the machine. And then, there’s a million people being the machine, just going along, unquestioning. They do what they’re told because they don’t want to end up in jail or have people think they’re crazy.”

“Maybe they don’t even realize there’s a problem.”

“Don’t realize? Or ignore it because it’s too scary to do anything else.” The waitress, a girl with dyed black hair, seemed to be listening to our conversation. But maybe, it was just because of what Astrid said last night, because I wasn’t from around here.

Mrs. Greenwood looked her up and down, then turned back to me. “Sometimes, I think you can tell yourself there isn’t a problem because you don’t want there to be. Or because you don’t think you’re strong enough to deal with it if there is one.”

Exactly. “If you’re not a hero, does that make you a villain?”

Mrs. Greenwood pursed her lips, and I knew she was thinking about Danielle like I was thinking about Tyler. Probably, she thought about Danielle every day. Any mother would. “I don’t think so. That would make just about everyone a villain then. The real villains are the ones who are actually commanding the evil robots to destroy the hero.”

The waitress had walked away. “I think I’d like to be the hero. I mean, it’s not my nature to be the hero, to be the person who recognizes the problem and takes charge, but I think if you know that about yourself, you can change it too.”

She didn’t answer, and I wondered if I’d hurt her feelings because she hadn’t done that with Danielle. I thought about how it was probably different with parents and kids. Probably parents just had a blind spot where their kids were concerned, preferring to see them as the perfect little babies they were before they got messed up. Or maybe you could just get so close to someone you stopped looking.

“Mrs. Greenwood, I didn’t mean . . .”

She shook her head. “I never got to have any grandchildren. I always thought about that with Danielle.”

“Well, I’ve learned a lot from you so far. I never knew my own grandmother.”

“I know. That Lina Hill was a stubborn woman.”

Lina was my grandmother. I didn’t know her. She and my mom hadn’t gotten along. She’d never forgiven my mother for getting pregnant with me, I guessed. After my grandmother died, my grandfather contacted my mother. He moved in with us, helped us out, and was the closest thing to a father I ever had.

I wondered if Danielle had been pregnant, if that was why she’d run away from home. Maybe she was still out there. But of course, Mrs. G. wouldn’t know about that, and I for sure wasn’t going to tell her.

Her hand was on the table, and I gave it a little pat, which was awkward, but it seemed right.

When I got home, I realized I’d forgotten to check my texts when I had service. I had two, though, both from Astrid (who lived in town and apparently had service), one reiterating the skiing invitation, one saying what a nice time she’d had New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t answer them, but I decided I’d call her tomorrow. When I went out. It probably wasn’t good to be alone all the time.

I smiled and listened to the wind howl as I drifted to sleep.

In the middle of it, like a harmony, I heard that same voice, singing.

I would check it out tomorrow.

16

Wyatt

The next morning, I woke from a dream of being chased by evil robots. I felt surprisingly refreshed. I looked down at the snow, which was patchy, indicating a warmer day. I decided to go to Josh’s and try to retrace my steps from New Year’s Eve, solve the mystery of the bizarre singing once and for all, even if it was just a dream.

I told Mrs. Greenwood, “I’m going to