The next week, the school administrators threw in the towel and accepted the reduced student and staff population as the new normal. I’d heard that the two district middle schools had even more no shows than us. Since our high school was relatively new, the decision was made to combine all the schools into ours. Suddenly, there were tiny 6th, 7th, and 8th graders roaming the halls.

With the addition of the younger kids, our curriculum finally changed. The overall school day was shortened, too. By law, the school was supposed to provide lunch, but rumor had it that the cafeteria staff had taken off with the canned food—I didn’t blame them.

Everything but math, science, and English classes were cut, replaced by “hands-on learning experiences”. This meant lectures on how to purify water, foraging lessons, or being bussed out to the nearby coastal mountains for mushroom hunting.

There were plans to convert the football field into a giant garden, but parents complained to the school board. We went halfway and located the garden plot behind the goal posts. The jocks made such a fuss over it that I half expected the thing to be vandalized. Weirdly, no one messed with it that I could see.

Master gardeners came around to show us how to start seeds. We made mini greenhouses using saran wrap and the sun for free energy. Then we were shown how to slowly harden the tiny plants off into the milder, temperate climate.

One of the gardeners even suggested there was a way to make pests work for us—to trap and eat gophers. That drew a few nervous giggles from the little kids. They were too young to realize what kind of starvation we’d all be facing in the Long Winter.

I didn’t think I could fully imagine it.

After we were done, I approached the master gardener leading the class. He’d definitely been a hippy in his younger years, and still sported a white beard and a ponytail tied low on his neck. His eyes were a watery blue, and perpetually red-rimmed. Yup. Definitely a gardener.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Haven’t you already?” he replied.

I smiled politely at the dad joke. “Why are you teaching us how to grow vegetables outdoors when there’s going to be a nuclear winter?”

He hesitated a long moment and glanced around to make sure the younger kids weren’t listening. That was a habit of the adults—protecting the little kids. It was as if they thought if they didn’t speak about what was coming, it wouldn’t happen to them. I was lucky that I was old enough that most treated me as an adult.

“There are still a lot of unknowns. They can’t even say for sure where Betty will strike the planet. I’ve heard some of the forecast models…differ.”

“Not that much.”

“Enough to give me hope.” He smiled kindly. “It may be that Betty won’t kick up as much dust as we think. Some sunlight might get through. Maybe enough to give us a fighting chance. And if I’m wrong at least the kids will have had fun today playing in the dirt.”

It was a nice sentiment, I guess. I wondered that if I didn’t have the SAFEsite to fall back on, I would have allowed myself to hope for the same.

* * *

Connor called me that Saturday asking to go out on another date. I had been looking forward to putting more hours in the school garden—Shane worked at his part-time job at the aquarium, so hanging with him was out—but being able to see Connor again gave me an idea.

That morning, he pulled up in his sporty little car. I got in, kissed him hello on the cheek, and listened to him tell me about his week. See? I was practicing to be an attentive little wife already. Good for me.

Even I knew that was a horrible, unfair thought.

“Connor,” I asked, cutting across whatever technical problems he’d been talking about. I sort of lost track. Oops.

“How long have you liked me?”

Why do you like me? I thought, but could not say.

“I…uh…” His blush deepened.

My lips curled in a sympathetic smile. “Come on,” I wheedled. “We’re going to be married. You can tell me.”

He winced and blurted. “Since my tenth birthday party.”

“Really?” For the sake of his feelings, I covered my laugh with a cough. “That’s specific.”

“I know…I just, I remember you coming along with Asher because your dad couldn’t find any babysitters. We all went to the water park, but you kept up with the boys. I remember you being so tough and taking no crap from no one. I was a little young for first crushes, but I noticed you, then. Like, uh, noticed you were a girl?”

“That…that’s really sweet.” I didn’t have to force my smile this time.

He smiled back, but didn’t ask me the first time I ‘noticed’ him, and I didn’t have to make up a lie.

We fell silent for a few moments as he occupied himself with driving. Then he asked, “So, how was your week?”

“Pretty good. They’ve changed our classes all around to prepare us for surviving the Long Winter. Actually, that reminds me,” I said as if I hadn’t been waiting for this exact moment to ask. “Will we be growing our own food at the SAFEsite? We’re not going to be eating freeze dried food the whole time, right?”

He flashed a grin over at me. “Why? Thinking of cooking recipes?”

“No.” And if he thought I was a good cook, boy was he in for a let down. “We’ve started a garden at school, and I really enjoy myself. It’s relaxing.”

He considered for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah, we’ll have hydroponic bays for fresh produce.”

“Then that’s where I’d like to work,” I said.

“It’s not going to be like a backyard garden. This will be serious—you’ll be helping to feed the community.”

“I can be serious!” I playfully slapped his shoulder. “And you did promise to support whatever I picked.”

He grinned again, and I realized he was just teasing me. “I guess I did. I’ll have my dad make the call.”

“Awesome.” I sat back in my seat. Knowing that I would have a job—other than making children—made me feel better about my future. “So, where are we going today? Not ice cream again?”

He smiled, bright and happy. “The Monterey Bay Aquarium.”

My stomach flipped over, and then sank all the way down to my toes.