Living Rough by Cristy Watson

Author:Cristy Watson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV039070
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2011-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I said goodbye to Inna at the bus stop, then raced down the hill. Panic pushed my body into overdrive. Hail dropped into the space between my jacket and my neck, sending an icy chill down my spine. Even before I reached our site, I could see the damage.

The wind had knocked down several small trees, and now the orange and blue tarps covering our tent could be seen from the street. A plastic bag flew past me like tumbleweed. If we didn’t secure the tarps, they’d be next. My dad was running around the campsite tying things down and putting loose items under cover. We didn’t have much, so we couldn’t afford to lose anything to a storm.

“This came up fast,” my dad hollered as I approached. “Grab my bike, will you, son?”

“Sure, Dad.” I pushed the bicycle toward my father. He rolled it inside our tent. Hail covered the ground like Styrofoam. A squirrel raced up the tree beside me, looking for shelter.

“What are we going to do, Dad? This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen. Look at the trees falling. There’s no way we can hide our site now.”

“We’ll get through tonight and consider our options in the morning. Once we have everything tied down, we can head to the coffee shop and have…”

“What?” My dad’s voice was lost to the wind. He gestured toward the small camping table. I quickly turned it on its side and folded the legs, then pushed it into the tent to help hold it down.

There would be no room for us once we loaded everything inside. I don’t think my dad was too concerned.

A crack of thunder made me jump. The wind wasn’t letting up. My eyes stung, and my lungs wheezed with each breath. My dad was hunched over, gathering pots and pans into his sweater.

I pulled extra rope through the holes of the two tarps. On the last hole, the wind whipped the tarp, and the rope tore from my hands, burning my flesh. I grimaced with pain but grabbed the swinging rope and wrapped it around the nearest tree. I tied three knots, hoping they would hold.

Snap! Crack!

An alder branch split and careened down on my dad’s head. He fell sideways. His face scrunched up with pain as he hit the ground.

“Dad!” I yelled, running to his side. “Are you okay?”

“I may have broken my arm.” He looked pale.

“Let’s get out of here, Dad. I don’t care if we lose everything. All that matters is that you’re all right.” He stumbled as I helped him up.

“I’m fine. I just need some food. Grab our winter coats, will you?”

I put my dad’s jacket over his shoulders and guided him toward the street. It was going to be a long walk to the hospital. Then I remembered the clinic down by the freeway.

I took one last look at our site. Most of our stuff was in the tent. I’d closed the flap on my way out. I could only hope that it would be there tomorrow.

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