Susan Pfeffer: Life As We Knew It

I managed to stop laughing, but then I thought, at least nobody’s singing “The Star Spangled Banner,” and I started laughing all over again. The phrase “By the dawn’s early light” got stuck in my mind, and I kept hearing it over and over again. “By the dawn’s early light.” “By the dawn’s early light.” I wondered how many people had sung “By the dawn’s early light” yesterday and were dead today.

We were in the hallway for almost an hour. It’s hard to stay hysterical for that long, and by the time the hour was over, and the storm had died down, almost all the kids were quiet, except for one girl who kept screaming, “I don’t want to die!”

Like any of us did.

We went back into our second-period classrooms, even though it was already fourth period. It was still raining with thunder and lightning, but the winds had calmed down, and the lightning was farther away.

Some of the kids who’d been crying were just shaking. The electricity still wasn’t on, and with the lightning not striking so close or so frequently, things were actually darker in the classroom. The sky was still a mean gray, and I think we all felt like the storm could come back at any moment full tilt and we’d be back in the hallway. Ms. Hammish didn’t tell us to go to our fourth-period classes. We all just sat there instead.

I couldn’t totally shake “By the dawn’s early light” from my head, and I was kind of wishing Ms. Hammish would distract us with a history lesson, when in walked Mom.

She was soaking wet and looked wild and determined. I thought, something’s happened to Matt, and that stomach weight came right back like it had never been gone.

“Come on, Miranda,” Mom said. “Get your books and let’s get going.”

Ms. Hammish stared at her, but she didn’t say anything. I got my books and followed Mom out of the classroom.

I thought, If I don’t ask what happened, it won’t have happened, so I kept quiet as we left school. Mom didn’t say anything, either. The rain was pouring, and the thunder was still pretty loud, and I thought the world really is coming to an end, and Mom wants me home when that happens.

We ran to the parking lot, and Jonny opened the door for me. I jumped in, and I was surprised to see Mrs. Nesbitt sitting in the passenger seat. I could see Mom not wanting Mrs. Nesbitt to be alone when the world ended, but I couldn’t figure out why she had to be driven somewhere first.

“Here, Miranda, take this,” Mom said, and she handed me an envelope. I looked inside it and saw ten $50 bills.

Mom started the car. I looked at Jonny, who just shrugged.

“When we get to the supermarket, I want Jonny to go to the pet food department,” Mom said. “Jonny, you know what Horton’ll eat. Get kitty litter, too, and put the bags on the bottom of the wagon. Get the biggest bags that’ll fit there. Fill the wagon with as many bags of dry food as you can.”

“Horton likes canned,” Jonny said.

“Get the little ones,” Mom said. “The expensive kind. As many as you can throw into the empty spaces. Fill the wagon as high as you can possibly can. And Mrs. Nesbitt, when you get the paper goods, don’t forget Tampax for Miranda and me. Lots of boxes.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Mrs. Nesbitt said.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Would someone please tell me?”

“It’s just in case the world’s coming to an end,” Jonny said. “Mom wants us to be ready.”

“I went to the bank this morning,” Mom said. “And I filled the gas tank and gas was already at five dollars a gallon. I went to the supermarket and the electricity went out and there was chaos there, so they just said a hundred dollars for each wagon no matter what was in it. I had a lot of cash on me, so I filled a wagon and then I went back and got Mrs. Nesbitt and then Jonny and you so we could each get wagons to fill.”

“You don’t really think we’re going to need this stuff?” I asked. “Everything’s going to get back to normal soon, isn’t it?”

“Not in my lifetime,” Mrs. Nesbitt said.

“We don’t know,” Mom said. “But kitty litter doesn’t go bad. If it turns out I’m wrong and I’ve wasted all this money, fine. I’d just as soon the world gets back to normal. But in case it takes a while, we might as well have toilet paper. Miranda, you’re going to canned vegetables and fruits. You know what we like.”

“Mom, we don’t eat canned vegetables,” I said.

“We do now,” she said. “Canned vegetables. Fruits. Soups, too. Lots of cans of soup. Find the cartons in the back of the car and put them on the bottom shelf of the cart. Fill those cartons up too. Get as much as you can in the wagon.”

I stared out the window. The rain was still falling and occasional flashes of lightning could be seen in the distance. The electricity was still out, so corners with traffic lights were crazy, with cars stopping and starting and not knowing what exactly to do. I saw a lot of trees had fallen, and cars were driving over the smaller branches that littered the streets.

Mom just plowed through.

“What about desserts?” I asked. “If the world comes to an end, I’m going to want cookies.”

“We’re all going to want cookies if the world comes to an end,” Mrs. Nesbitt agreed. “And chips and pretzels. If the world is coming to an end, why should I care about my blood pressure?”

“Okay, we’ll die fat,” Mom said. “Grab what you can grab and ram it into your wagons. But remember if we actually need this stuff, we’re going to be a lot more grateful for a can of soup than for a box of stale cookies.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mrs. Nesbitt said.

“Get Progresso,” Mom said. “They don’t need water.”

“Mom,” I said. “We have water.”

“Which reminds me,” she said. “After you pay for your first wagons, put the stuff in the car and go back.

Jonny, you get water. As many bottles as you can fit in. Mrs. Nesbitt, you get whatever you think you’re going to want. Miranda, you go to health and beauty aids. Get aspirin and peroxide and Band-Aids.”

“Great,” I said. “The world’s coming to an end, and we’re fixing it with Band-Aids.”

“Vitamins,” Mom said. “Get lots and lots of vitamins. And laxatives. Calcium. Vitamin D. This is so hard, trying to remember everything we might need.”

“Or might not,” I said. “Mom, I love you, but I think this is crazy.”

“So we’ll all get vitamin D for Christmas presents,” Mom said. “Just do it, okay. Jonny and Mrs. Nesbitt and I have car keys, so wait for one of us to show up, and we’ll put your stuff in with theirs. Okay?”

“Sure,” I said, because I decided it was better to humor her.

“After we finish our second loads, we’ll see what it’s like,” Mom said. “Then we’ll see if it’s worth it to go back in.”

She pulled into the supermarket parking lot and I got a real sense of the madness going on. There were people racing for carts, people screaming, and two guys punching each other out.

“Jonny, get a wagon for Mrs. Nesbitt first,” Mom said. “Everyone stay calm, and remember you have cash. That’s all they’re taking, and we have a real advantage there. Work fast. Don’t debate. If you can’t decide between two things, take both. Pack the carts as high as you can manage. If you have any problems, go to the car. Don’t try to find anyone in the store. Okay? Are you ready?”

We all said we were. Jonny looked like he actually meant it.

Mom found a parking spot toward the back of the lot, and -there were two carts there. We raced out of the car and grabbed them. Mrs. Nesbitt and I each took one and went into the store together.

The supermarket reminded me of the hallway at school this morning, and maybe because I’d just been through all that, the store didn’t scare me as much as it ordinarily would have. So what if people were screaming and crying and fighting. I plowed through people and raced to canned vegetables.