Flood Friday Read online

  “They went off and left us,” said Tommy, sniffling.

  “What about that rope?” asked Sally. “We saw the men throw a long rope in your upstairs window.”

  “My Dad tied it around the chimney in our bedroom closet,” said Tommy. “That will keep the house from washing away, he said.”

  “What about my compact?” asked Sally. “Was that downstairs or upstairs?”

  “I dunno—I forget—” said Tommy, mumbling. “Don’t know just where I put it …”

  “Come, children, we must go,” called Mrs. Boyd from the front door.

  The children ran up to the Boyd house.

  “Oh, Mother,” cried Barbara, “we don’t have to leave, do we?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Boyd. “I promised we’d go as soon as the Dillons were saved.”

  Mrs. Dillon was up now, gathering her children around her.

  “Where are we going? To Uncle Paul’s?” asked Sally.

  “No,” said Mrs. Graham. “We can’t get through—the bridges are out. The Civil Defense man told us to go to Union School. They are taking in people there.”

  “But our house is not flooded, Mother,” said Barbara. “Why do we have to go? Can’t the Dillons and the Grahams stay here with us?”

  Mrs. Boyd did not stop to explain. She told the Dillons to get in her car and she drove off with them. In half an hour she was back for the Grahams. As they drove out to the highway, they could see that the water was deep under the railroad trestle. The banks on both sides had been washed away. The tracks were sagging low across the opening. No cars could come through from Hartford.

  Along the highway, everything looked different. The river had cut in much closer to the road. Houses were gone and trees were floating. It was a scene of desolation. Mrs. Boyd drove through deep water all the way. She parked her car and they all got out.

  Union School stood on a high hill, overlooking the river valley. Sally hardly knew where she was. The school looked like some place she had never been before. Cars and trucks were parked in front. A fire engine stood by the door. Firemen and Civil Defense workers were giving and taking messages. People were going in and out of the building. No one spoke to the Grahams or the Boyds. No one smiled. It was still pouring rain.

  The two women herded the children inside. A number of families were already there. A Civil Defense worker with a white helmet on his head was telling them what to do.

  “All refugees will find mats in the gymnasium,” he said, “in case you want to rest. Army cots will soon be here and food is on the way. Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

  Sally pulled her mother’s arm.

  “Are we refugees?” she asked. “I thought all the refugees were in Europe or Korea.”

  Mother smiled a little. “We used to read about those poor people in the paper,” she said. “Now we know how it feels ourselves.”

  It seemed strange to come to school so early in the morning.

  The electricity was off, so the halls and classrooms looked gloomy and deserted. Sally opened the door of her Fourth Grade room. The shades were pulled down, but some of the children’s drawings still hung on the wall. What a happy place it had been—last year, even if Tommy Dillon did pull her hair every day.

  She closed the door quickly, then followed the other children to the kitchen. They were hungry, looking for something to eat.

  Mrs. Graham emptied her basket, and other women who had brought food, did the same. They found dishes in the cupboard and filled them with what they had.

  “What’s this? Cold soup?” cried Tommy Dillon, holding up his spoon in disgust.

  Sally turned on him. “If you don’t like it,” she said, “you’re not very hungry, Tommy Dillon.”

  “I like my soup hot!” said Tommy.

  Dan Boyd spoke up. “Go find a stove and cook it.”

  The children laughed and went on eating. The milk was divided and each child got a taste. Then Helen Dillon, Tommy’s oldest sister, set the children to work. Sally and Barbara washed dishes, Tommy and Dan dried them.

  People kept coming in and asking questions. Some direction was needed, so Mrs. Boyd took charge, with Mrs. Graham her willing helper. Mrs. Dillon was lying down in the gymnasium. Mrs. Boyd was good at making decisions. Soon she was telling people what to do. She did not realize that before the next day was over, two hundred and fifty people would be cared for in the school.

  Everything began to happen at once, as more people were brought in. Mrs. Graham unpacked cartons of groceries brought by a helicopter. Men brought in pails of water, hauled from springs up in the hills. All water had to be boiled before it could be used, and there was no way to boil it. The stove was electric and there was no current. A man came in and asked how many cots and blankets would be needed.

  Sally walked through the halls with her arm around Karen, who was still hugging her big rag doll. Everybody was busy but the children. Barbara Boyd came up.

  “What did we come here for?” asked Sally. “I wish we had stayed at your house.”

  “So do I,” said Barbara. “It was more fun there.”

  “We can’t do a thing here,” said Sally.

  “Let’s try to think of something,” said Barbara.

  The door opened and a National Guard soldier came in, carrying a huge carton on his back.

  “What you got there?” asked Barbara.

  “Clothing from the Salvation Army,” the soldier said. “Where shall I put it?”

  Barbara was as good as her mother at making decisions. She thought quickly. “Right here,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “You have?” The soldier looked at the girls and laughed. He dropped the carton at the end of the hall and went out.

  “Why did he laugh at us?” asked Sally.

  “I suppose we look funny,” said Barbara.

  The girls looked at each other. Not till then did they realize how strangely they were dressed.

  Sally wore big rubbers, her oldest dress, her father’s oldest hat on her head and her mother’s big loose sweater around her shoulders, pinned with a safety pin. Barbara looked strange too. She still wore her everyday dress covered by her mother’s apron and her old red topcoat. Karen wore a coat of Bobby’s and had galoshes on her feet.

  “I can’t help it—” said Sally. “I’ve got nice clothes at home, but maybe they’re washed away now.”

  “What do you care?” said Barbara. She pointed to the carton. “Let’s open that box and see what’s inside.”

  The carton was four feet square and about three feet high. It was filled with clothes all neatly folded.

  “Let’s get dressed up,” Barbara went on.

  Sally and Karen needed no encouragement. “And play ladies!” they added.

  The soldier came back with a large box of shoes. He grinned at the girls again and went out. The girls lost no time in looking over the clothes. They took things out and dropped what they didn’t want on the floor.

  “Here’s two dresses for my baby sister!” cried Sally, holding them up.

  A woman came out of a classroom.

  “Don’t touch those clothes, children,” she said and hurried away.

  “We don’t hear too good, do we, Barbara?” said Sally laughing.

  The girls found ladies’ skirts and blouses and put them on. They took off their rubbers and put on high-heeled shoes. They paraded through the hall.

  They were having great fun when the boys came up. Sally’s little brothers, Jack and Tim, were with the Dillon boys. Sally walked away when she saw Tommy Dillon appear.

  “What you girls doin’?” asked Tommy. “Helpin’ yourselves to new clothes?” He picked up a boy’s shirt off the pile. “These ain’t new clothes. These are old cast-offs that people didn’t want any more.”

  He followed the girls and jeered at them. The other boys tagged along.

  “Look at the pretty young ladies, all dressed up in high heels!” Tommy teased. “Don’t you wis
h you had a pocketbook with a pretty compact in it, so you could powder your nose?”

  “I hate you, Tommy Dillon!” cried Sally. “You’re mean!”

  The girls hurried into the gymnasium. Other children were there, waiting or playing listlessly. They closed the door behind them. When the boys did not come to open it, the girls went to the stage and pretended to act in a play in front of the curtain. Still the boys did not come. They went back to the hall door and peeked out.

  “Look! Tommy Dillon is taking clothes for himself!” cried Karen.

  Tommy was reaching into one of the boxes, so the girls hurried back. Now, Tommy was on the floor with the other boys, all smaller than himself—his own three brothers, Mike, Donny and Frank, and Sally’s little brothers, Jack and Tim. Bobby was helping him. Rusty the dog was there too.

  “What are you doing, Tommy Dillon?” demanded Sally. “Taking clothes and shoes for yourself without asking anybody?”

  Tommy held up a small pair of shoes. He pointed to the little boys’ feet. He spoke seriously now.

  “All these little kids was barefooted. Their feet was wet and cold. I found shoes and socks for ’em—just the right size. That’s what these clothes and shoes are for—for the people who lost everything.”

  Sally could not find a word to say. Jack and Tim showed her their new shoes and socks. She nodded, admiring. Then she saw Barbara Boyd taking off her grown-up clothes. Barbara folded them neatly and put them back in the carton.

  “What you taking them off for?” asked Sally.

  Barbara did not answer. Tommy was looking through the clothing box again. Barbara was helping him. She asked him what size he wore. They found two shirts, a pair of dungarees, shoes and socks that looked just right. Tommy put them in a little pile.

  The same lady came back to the same classroom again. She stopped and said to Tommy, “You can’t have those, boy. You didn’t lose anything.” Tommy’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t?”

  Barbara spoke up. “Oh yes, he did,” she said. “He was rescued by helicopter. He lost everything.”

  The woman said nothing more. She went in the classroom and closed the door behind her.

  Sally’s brother, Bobby, began digging in the box. He found a piece of fur and tied it round his head. Jack and Tim chased him, calling him Davy.

  Bobby said, “See my fuzzy-buzzy! No, I’m not Davy—I didn’t kill no b’ar!”

  The door of the Principal’s office opened, and a large woman came down the hall. She had black hair and fierce black eyes behind her glasses. She bore down upon the children before they had time to move.

  “What’s this? What are you children doing?” she cried. “Have you been fooling around with the clothing? Who told you you could open these boxes?”

  None of them answered.

  “Go to the gymnasium, all of you,” she ordered. “The children are to stay in the gymnasium. They are not allowed in the halls.”

  Sheepishly, the children walked away. They went back to the gym.

  “That’s Mrs. Bradford,” said Barbara. “She’s president of the PTA.”

  Sally still wore her “lady” clothes. “Why didn’t you keep yours?” she asked.

  “I’m tired of playing that,” said Barbara. “It’s too babyish.”

  Without a word, Sally took off her skirt, blouse and high-heeled slippers. “What can I do with them?” she asked.

  “Go put them back in the clothing box,” said Barbara.

  “But what if Mrs. Bradford sees me?” asked Sally.

  “Just tell her you’re sorry,” said Barbara.

  Sally ran down the hall and tossed the clothes in the box. The woman was gone, so no one noticed.

  4

  STILL AT SCHOOL

  “LOOK AT THOSE KIDS!” said Sally.

  Back in the gymnasium, the children were playing. The boys turned somersaults on the mats. They got up in the bleachers and jumped down, turning flipflops on the mats.

  Sally, Karen and Barbara and some of the other girls played hide-and-seek on the stage. It was dark back of the curtain, and they bumped around, hitting their heads on water pipes. Ruth Nelson brought a flashlight and tried shining it in their faces. The Nelsons, another River Bend family, had just been brought in.

  There were two pianos on the stage. Tommy Dillon and Jerry Nelson started drumming on them. Rusty jumped and barked loudly. Then, afraid the noise would be heard and somebody would come in, the boys ran and hid under the seats. Karen and Ruth Nelson played with Karen’s rag doll. While they were playing, the children forgot all about the flood.

  At last Sally got tired of tearing around. When the gymnasium door opened to let more children in, she slipped out. She walked through the halls quietly, hoping no one would notice her. She was lonesome for her mother, but could not find her.

  Other women were in the kitchen cooking now, and the cafeteria tables were full. Was it lunch time? Sally had no idea. The big clock on the wall was not going. It said two o’clock. Was that afternoon or the night before? The place smelled of coffee— everybody was drinking it. Oil stoves had been brought in and it was being served hot.

  Then Sally saw Tommy Dillon.

  “The Red Cross sent in plenty of food,” he told her. “You can have all you want—if they got it!”

  “Is it hard to get?” asked Sally.

  “No,” said Tommy. “Just sit down and they bring you something. The food’s hot now. They’ve got stoves to cook on.”

  Tommy and Jerry sat down and soon they were eating. They had spaghetti, peaches and apple cider. Sally sat down on the other side.

  “We been here five times,” Tommy whispered across the table. “Nobody keeps track of how many times we eat.” He pressed his stomach. “Gee! This tastes good.”

  Jerry Nelson walked over to a table and got a bottle of soda and a dish of melted ice cream. He poured the soda on the ice cream and called it Sunday-pop. “The helicopter brought crates of cold drinks,” he said.

  “Nobody counts how many sodas you drink,” said Tommy. “Us kids are having about fifteen each. I’ve had strawberry, sarsaparilla, raspberry …”

  “Why do you drink all that?” asked Sally.

  “It’s hot today,” said Tommy, “and there’s no water.”

  Sally did not get spaghetti. A woman brought her cornflakes, but she was tired of them, so she went out. In the hall stood two large Army jugs with taps. People were crowding around to get drinks. Tommy Dillon was wrong. There was water, after all. A woman handed out paper cups. Sally was waiting in line, when Tommy Dillon pushed in in front of her.

  “Go ahead,” she said, “if you’re in such a hurry.”

  “Oh for a drink of cold water!” cried Tommy.

  He filled his cup and took a drink. He made an ugly face and said to the woman, “I asked for cold water and you gave me hot.”

  Sally said, “Isn’t that just too bad!” She drank her own.

  The woman explained, “We boiled it and it hasn’t cooled off yet. We have no ice and no icebox. So you’ll have to drink it warm.”

  “It’s still wet,” said the next man in line.

  Sally wandered in the hall. The classrooms were open now, filled with people, most of them strangers to her. They were all talking about the flood and what a hard time they had and the things that had washed away. All they could do was eat all day. If they did not want to eat, they could just sit. Volunteer workers were hurrying back and forth, trying to help. In the gymnasium, mothers were putting young children down for naps. She saw her mother and baby Betty, both sleeping. A woman told everybody to keep quiet. Sally was too restless to sleep, so she went out again.

  A sick boy on a stretcher was carried into the health room. Soon Dr. Otis came out, saying, “He’s getting the virus.” But he was called back in again. As Sally passed the door, the black-haired woman with the beady eyes, spotted her. Sally darted away, but the woman came and took her by the arm.

  “Here,” she said. “Yo
u know where the gym is, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Sally. Her heart was in her mouth. Was she going to be scolded for walking in the hall?

  “Take this girl back to the gym with you,” said Mrs. Bradford.

  An older girl of about thirteen, in wet and muddy clothes, came out. She was sobbing and crying bitterly. Her red and mottled face was hidden under her tangled black curls.

  “I won’t go!” she said. “You can’t make me. I’m going back home and stay there till I find my little sister. They took my mother to the hospital and …”

  “You can’t go back, Angela,” said Mrs. Bradford patiently. “Your home isn’t there any more. Your little sister will be brought in any time now, just as you were. The helicopter is sure to find her.”

  “Linda! Linda! Oh, Linda!” called Angela. “Oh why did I ever go away and leave her? Linda! Linda!”

  When the girl lifted her face, Sally saw that it was Angela Marciano. She remembered seeing Angela and little Linda in the River Bend store—was it only yesterday? And now Linda was lost. Sally wanted to comfort Angela but did not know how. Shyly she took her hand to walk down the hall with her. Angela looked up at her once, but did not seem to recognize her.

  “Angela, don’t you know me? I’m Sally Graham.” But Angela gave no sign that she heard.

  Mrs. Bradford told the doctor about the Marcianos. Angela and her mother and two brothers and little sister had been taken from their home by two volunteer firemen in a boat. When the boat overturned, the family managed to climb on the roof of a floating house. The two firemen were with them. When the roof collapsed, they clung to trees until rescued by a helicopter. The second fireman, Leo Rogers, with Linda in his arms, swam for a tree farther away. But no one had seen him or the child again.

  “Do you want something to eat, Angela?” asked Sally, starting toward the cafeteria. “That will make you feel better.”

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “No! No!” she cried. “I want Linda! My little sister, Linda! When are they going to find her? I’ve got to go back and see. I won’t eat until they find her.”