June 27

We went to the fair today. Mom and Dad gave us about seventy dollars in cash and a pouch of coins along with some small candies and cough drops in case they wanted goods in exchange.

"That's a lot of money," I said to Mom as she handed us the money. "Are you sure that you don't want to spend it on gas or something?"

"Everything's been so stressful lately," she said. "And I just want you guys to have a normal day, for once."

The place was bustling with more people than Mira than I had ever seen all summer. I guess everyone in town wanted to come. There was a large poster fluttering in the wind, painted in bright shades of turquoise and blue. Someone must have put a lot of time into making it.

A series of bells tolled, clanging loudly nine times, probably to signal the time. There were lots of small shacks set up in the plaza. Some people were selling canned food or jars of pickled vegetables. Others were selling medicines or essential supplies like batteries and mechanical parts. Armed guards patrolled the area to prevent people from stealing stuff.

But there were many other stalls selling non-survival gear: floral dresses, straw hats, shoes, jewelry, paints, antiquities, and many more things. Mira came with May and I as we walked through the crowds of people.

"Now's your chance," I said.

"What?" Mira said.

"To bond with May."

"Well, how am I supposed to do that?"

"Just impress her or do something cool. I don't know. Here's some good one-on-one time with her."

We reached a small stall and Mira picked up a couple of items.

"How do I look?" Mira said, turning around.

She had a floppy hat on her head with ridiculous pink framed sunglasses. "Awful," I said. "You look like Mom on the beach."

"You're a guy," she said. "Your opinion doesn't matter. This is a girl problem."

"May?" she asked, facing May.

"For the first time in my life, I think I actually agree with Neal. You look terrible," she said.

May picked up a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. "You'll look much better in these."

Mira put them on, faux posing in front of a small mirror in front of the stall. I think she looked less bad, but she seriously needed to drop the hat.

"These are such cute sunglasses," she said and turned towards the lady manning the stall. "How much for these?"

"Twenty bucks," the woman said. "Unless you've got something better to offer."

Mira mouthed back to us, "Twenty bucks? So expensive" much to the annoyance of that woman.

It actually isn't. Sunglasses probably cost around a hundred to two hundred bucks, but since we don't have much cash, I guess it is expensive. Mira turned back to the stall and put on her I'm-getting-serious-with-you face. I can tell when she does that. She has that twinkle in her eye that shows that she's up to something. "Listen, Ms.... What's your name?"

"Scott. Linda Scott."

"Okay, listen Ms. Scott. Twenty bucks seems a tad too expensive for these sunglasses. I'll give you ten bucks for these."

"Fifteen bucks."

"Twelve."

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen and a couple of candies," Mira said. "For that shirt and the glasses."

Ms. Scott sighed. "Fine. You got yourself a deal."

Mira gave her the money and candies and opened up her canvas bag to put her stuff in. Both of them were actually talking to each other. I smiled. They were finally getting along with each other, maybe a little too much. I think they forgot that I was there.

"Hey, Mira," I said, and she turned around. "I'm going to go off and explore on my own."

"Okay. Remember to meet us at the entrance poster when the bells ring twice."

"Okay."

They went off on their own into the more clothing oriented section. I wandered off to the other side. People were selling lots of fruits and vegetables. Small orange apricots, fuzzy peaches, glossy watermelons, speckled cantaloupes. There was so much food around.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw Charles. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"I was bored," he said.

"Are your parents here?"

"Nah, they decided to stay home and do stuff," he said. "What about your parents?"

"They're walking around here somewhere in the crowd."

"We should do something interesting."

"Let's first just walk around here to see what's going on."

"Fine," he said as we walked down the cobbled plaza. There were little kids splashing around in some small inflatable pools. It was a hot day and I guess someone wasted a bit of electricity to pump up those pools. Some people were hitting volleyballs while other people were dribbling and shooting basketballs in the small court next to the plaza. I guess everyone is trying to pretend that everything's normal.

We circled around again, passing by the fresh fruit section. My mouth salivated. I missed fresh food. Everything we're eating is canned and gross.

"Do you want one?" I asked.

"Sure," Charles replied.

"How much for two nectarines," I asked the fruit stand owner.

"Two for two dollars," he said.

That was pretty expensive. But I guess food is scarcer since all the supermarkets closed down. Most people only get food from the weekly food giveaways at city hall. I still paid for it, and we went somewhere shaded away from the crowds.

I took a large bite of the fruit, but Charles only nibbled at the skin of the fruit. "Something wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," he said and took another tentative bite. "It's just that I haven't eaten fresh fruit in a while."

"I don't think anyone has. My family's stuck eating canned food every day until the highways and delivery systems get fixed."

"I miss pizza," he said. "Right now, I'm craving it so bad."

"Me too," I replied. "And ice-cream and cookies and French fries and fried noodles."

"Stop it!" he said. "My stomach is literally rumbling."

"And hamburgers and teriyaki chicken and cake and chips and donuts. I even miss bread."

"Yeah, I miss food," he said.

Charles and I talked a bit after that, but he had to leave early. There wasn't much to do afterwards. People began setting up dark plastic sheeting and multicolored blankets to cover themselves and their stalls from the sun. Most people were just lying in the shade under the trees. It was less crowded, so I decided to check the fair out one last time before heading back to the entrance.

I bought two books, one survivalist fiction and the other a mystery thriller. Some person was selling potted herbs, so I bought a pot of mint. I still had a good fifteen dollars left and nothing to spend it on, so I decided to buy some Christmas gifts for my family. If the world never gets back to normal, I might as well spend the cash, and it'd be nice to get some surprise presents.

For Dad, I got one of those "10 Ways to Become Successful" books. I'm not sure why he's into those types of things, but I'm pretty sure that he would enjoy it. I got some small packets of instant coffee for Mom just in case we run out. I know she and Dad hate the taste of the cheap coffee, but this'll be good for emergencies. I bought a small tea packet set for Grandpa and a Chinese-English dictionary for Grandma if she wants to keep learning English.

Getting a gift for May was so hard. I wasn't really sure what type of fashion she's into, so I just bought her two scrunchies, one dark black and the other one a beige color (which I'm sure she's going to hate since it's her least favorite color). For Mira, I was even less sure about what to get her. She's been away at college for over a year, so I wasn't sure if she changed herself. I knew Mira was always into traveling. She wanted to see the world, so I bought her a photobook with pictures of exotic places. If we won't be able to travel the world, at least she could experience these wonders at home.

I was about to head out when I realized that I didn't get a gift for Charles. We don't really have a gift giving friendship at all, but in these circumstances, I guess it'd be nice to get him one. I only had a couple of bucks and a few goods to trade. I went around searching for something cool to give him. There were plenty of socks and sweaters and other pretty generic stuff, but I don't think he'd want it.

Then I spotted an interesting rock collection stand. The man was selling small collections of cheap gemstones like amethyst and garnets. But I think the most interesting one was a small bee frozen in amber. I spent the rest of my money on that. It almost mirrors our situation. The bee was wiped out just like we might be.

When the bells rang twice, I arrived at the poster. "What'd you buy?" Mira asked.

"Some books?" I lied. I wanted to keep this a secret from them. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

"I checked in with them ten minutes ago. They were shopping for some practical stuff, you know, jars and other crap."

"What did you guys get?"

"We got tons of cute shirts," May said.

"I also bought a couple of gifts," Mira said. "For Mom and Dad and you."

"Can I see them?" I asked.

"Of course not," Mira said. "They're going to be a surprise."

"May," I said. "What did Mira buy?"

"I'm not telling you anything," she said. "But I think it's pretty obvious what the gift for you is."

"A book?" I guess.

"I'm neither going to confirm nor deny that," Mira said and waved in the distance. "What took you guys so long?"

Mom lifted her new pair of sunglasses. "We got caught up in some of the stalls. I trust that you spent your money well."

"Totally," I said.

"Good," she said. "We better get home before it gets dark."

Mira and May ran home to hide their gifts, so that Mom, Dad, and I won't be able to find them. I could've beaten them home, but I decided not to. Mira and May are getting along together, and I'm happy about that— even if that peace only lasts one day.

June 29

Three earthquakes. A soft one yesterday afternoon and two harder ones today, one early in the morning and another this afternoon. I got some good connection on my radio today and the news doesn't sound pleasant.

There have been reports of increased sulfur dioxide and other gas emissions from volcanoes and vents surrounding them in Northern California and the Cascade Range in Oregon. There are warnings that a volcanic eruption may occur soon, so they're trying to evacuate everyone out. The only problem is that there is no place to evacuate to. The big cities are destroyed. The suburban areas are powerless. The rural areas are simply unfit to handle massive amounts of people.

"What's going to happen to the evacuees?" I asked Dad.

"The government is going to find someplace to put them."

"What if they came to our city?" I asked.

"They won't," Dad said. "Even if they do, I'll make sure they don't get in."

I was shocked. Dad was always talking about having kindness and welcoming people (even if he didn't follow those principles).

"But why?" I asked.

"Our city doesn't have enough resources or room to fit everyone in. We have to take care of ourselves first before helping other people."

"Even if the other people die."

"We aren't even the safest community to live in. We're right next to the sea. If the tides get worse, they'll just have to move again."

"Why don't we move then?" I asked.

"Because it's safe here," he said. "There's no fuel and the best that we can hope for is that people and the government will come together and work things out."

I don't know. Will we ever be able to work things out and make everything better again? I want to believe so. But some part of me doubts that that'll happen. The tides, the earthquakes, the volcanic eruptions on the horizon. Everything seems to be getting worse every day.

Actually, one thing seems to be getting better. They've been bonding over their shared love-hate relationship with gardening. This afternoon, they've been trying to install wire cages from a sheet of mesh that Dad found in the garage around the tomato plants.

"What the hell is this manual saying," Mom yelled from the backyard.

I went out to take a look. They were sitting on the lawn chairs staring at a gardening book with dirty gloves splayed across the small table. "What's happening?" I asked.

"No one understands anything in this manual," Mira said. "Take a look."

There was some strange stuff written. I didn't understand a word. It had something to do with maintaining the pH of the soil, I think. "If they are going to sell this book. Might as well make it useful for people to at least understand," Mom fumed.

Mom gets a little hot headed when she gets frustrated, so I changed the subject. "How is the plant growing going?"

"Good," Mom said, brightening up. "Eggplants and zucchini are doing well. Tomatoes and squash could use some work. And the rest of the other plants are doing fine."

"What about growing cactus and succulents?" I added semi jokingly.

"We're not that desperate," Mira said.

"Exactly," Mom said. "It won't come down to that."

"I'm just saying. Just in case," I said.

At that moment, May popped out of the house. "I'd rather die than eat succulents."

"Don't say that," Mom scolded. "You might think that dying isn't serious, but it is and we're lucky to be alive when many people are facing a lot more suffering than us."

"Geez. I was just joking."

"We don't joke about that stuff anymore," Mom said. "Let's get back to work Mira, we have a lot to do."

They spent the rest of the day in the garden. Mira says that we might start getting fresh vegetables late in August. I'm not excited though. I hate eating most of the plants they're growing like eggplant, squash, and especially onions. Even with the thoughts of other people dying doesn't change my views. I still hate those vegetables.

June 30

It was hot and muggy today. Sweat was beading on my forehead even inside my house and Mom and Mira took a day off from the garden to sit around, fan themselves, and relax. I wanted to skip work today, but Mom and Dad both said no.

When I went to work today, Charles was unusually excited. "We're going to do something interesting today," he announced.

"What's up with all this energy?" I asked. "You looked like you were going to die on Sunday."

"Bad day," he said. "I didn't get enough sleep."

His answer felt like a lie, but I shrugged it off. Some part of me just appreciated all this positive energy. "What are we going to be doing?" I asked.

"It's a secret," he said.

"If we're going somewhere, I'm going to have to tell my parents first."

"Just paste a note on your door," he said. "Tell them you'll be back home around half an hour after the sun sets."

"Sunset? That's a long time."

"Just do it," he said.

"Fine," I said. "But it better be worth it."

Our shirts were damp, clinging to our skin as the sun descended down the sky. The director of the garden volunteering program handed out bottles of water and saltines and reminded us to stay hydrated and if anyone is feeling sick or dizzy, they should tell him immediately. We worked an extra half hour today because some people didn't come, and there was a lot to get done.

After we logged our volunteer hours on a clipboard, I turned towards Charles. "It's so hot right now. Maybe we should do whatever you have planned tomorrow or some other day."

"Don't worry, the heat is not going to be a problem," he replied.

"Fine," I said. "Let's go to my house first and then we'll go wherever you are going to."

When I got home, I told Mom that I was going out with Charles. Dad was at another one of those city meetings. Mom told me that I shouldn't stay out too late (not like anyone can tell the time anymore) and to be safe.

I kept asking Charles about where we were going. We were heading away from his house, passing by the oil railroad tracks and lush lawns of the mansions and the rotting husks of the sunken houses. We arrived at a small community and Charles opened the wooden gate surrounding one of the houses.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "There could be people still living there."

"Everyone's gone," he said. "Haven't you noticed."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You've been to the food drives, right?" he asked.

"Not recently. My dad's mostly been doing it."

"My parents make me come every week, and the lines have been getting shorter and shorter," he said. "Lots of people are saying that we're never going to get power back again, so they're moving to Texas and New Mexico since they have lots of oil and gas."

"So this whole neighborhood is deserted."

"The last person left around a week ago."

"How do you even know so much about this place?" I asked. "Please don't tell me you are stalking these houses."

"No," he said. "Not really. Follow me and I'll tell you how I found out."

"Fine."

I followed him through the back gate and into the yard. Below the deck was a sloped hill leading to a creek. A tire swing hung from a large oak tree bordering the silt and stone streaked shore of the river.

"How'd you find out about this?" I asked.

"This was my old home," he said.

"I thought you always lived wherever you live right now."

"I moved there a long time ago, but this was my first home."

"Okay," I said. "That still doesn't explain how you found out that this place was empty."

"I went to take a jog around the neighborhood some time back and decided to go and visit my old neighborhood. Most of the driveways were empty and a couple of days ago, all of the driveways emptied out," he said. "No one's using these houses, so I thought it would be nice to cool down somewhere."

"Wait a second," I said. "So you stalked your old house and waited until everyone left, so you could waltz in and claim it for yourself."

"You know what?" he said. "The details don't matter."

He then took off his shirt and waded into the water. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Swimming," he said. "That's what we came here for."

"You know that I hate swimming," I said. "I'm not even dressed in the proper clothes."

"Just get in with whatever you're wearing," he said. "The sun will dry off everything else."

"That still doesn't change the fact that I hate swimming."

"Fine," he said. "But you're missing out."

"Whatever," I said.

I sat on a couple of rocks by the stream while he swam in the middle of the river. Around mid-afternoon, the heat was so bad that I decided to dip my toes in the water. Charles declared victory in his mission to get me to swim in the water. He called it "baby steps". We talked a bit after he stepped out of the water, dripping wet.

"We should have a bucket-list," he said as he sat next to me.

"Isn't that what older people do?" I said.

"No," he said. "Well, maybe. I'm not sure. But that's not the point. The point is that we should make a list of five goals that we want to accomplish over summer."

"List of goals? That sounds so much like school."

"Dreams," he said. "Some stuff that we want to do before summer ends and we're back to school to try to make sure to do everything before everything returns back to normal."

"I don't know," I said.

"Just think about it," he said, turning towards me with a mischievous grin. "Because my first goal is to get you into the water."

He kicked up water at me. "What the heck was that for?" I yelled.

"See," he said. "Getting wet isn't so bad."

"Screw you."

"You either get into the water by yourself or I'm going to force you."

"You'll pay for this," I said. "That's going to be the first thing on my bucket list. 'Make Charles do something dumb.'"

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Get into the water."

I waded in knee deep. "It's cold!" I exclaimed.

"That's the point. It's a hot day."

"You will pay for this," I said, and he laughed.

It wasn't as cold after I dipped my whole body into the water. He took a couple of swings in the tire swing and told me to ride on it. I wasn't allowed to refuse because it was part of the spirit of this bucket list wish. I guess it was fun, but I think I swallowed too much water. We crawled out of the water and sat on the ground as the air turned golden and the sun's glare began to wane.

"You have a great time today?" Charles asked.

"It was okay," I said. Today was actually good, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!"

"Liar. Liar."

"Fine," I said. "Today was better than okay."

"So you had a great time."

"Interpret whatever I said however you want to," I said.

"So you did have a good time."

"If you insist so," I said.

We sat and watched the sun slowly dip as the shadows grew longer and the sky blossomed with pinks and oranges. This is what the end of the world felt like. Surprisingly peaceful and oddly tinged with happiness. I turned towards Charles. "Do you ever wish that the world, you know, will never get back to normal?"

He looked at me. "You wanna answer first," he said.

I bit my lip. "I mean I want the electricity to come back and the internet and everything that we lost when the power went out. But it's like I also don't want everything to get back to normal because that means that the colleges and universities will open and then I'll have to get internships and more serious jobs and volunteer work. All of that adult life future stuff just feels so big and so overwhelming."

"I mean I agree with all that. Sometimes I wish I could just never grow up."

"Really?" I asked. "I thought you were serious about colleges and stuff."

"I am," he said. "When everything gets back to normal, I'll probably do some internship or volunteering and focus on college and stuff. But with everything happening and everyone saying that it's the end of the world, none of that feels important. This summer, or at least a portion of it, feels like a chance to relive our childhood even though we're a lot older."

"So if you could just snap your fingers right now and make everything back to the way it was before, would you?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

I sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. "I don't think I would."

A flash of disgust appeared on his face before disappearing immediately. Or maybe it was a flash of understanding. I couldn't tell. We sat next to each other in silence for a couple of minutes. "That was some heavy stuff," he said.

"Yeah..." I replied. "You want to talk about something else."

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"The sun has basically set," I said. "What are we going to do half an hour after it's gone?"

"Stargazing," he said. "We're going stargazing."

"Stargazing?"

"Yeah, stargazing," he said. "Without all the light pollution, we might even be able to see the Milky Way."

"See, look at that bright dot in the sky. That's—"

"Venus," I interrupted. "The second brightest object in the sky after the Moon."

"You know astronomy?" he asked.

"I'm more surprised that you know astronomy," I said. "Didn't you want to do business stuff in the future?"

"I found a book about stars in the library and there's been a lot of time on my hands," he said. "It's too bad that the Moon is in the way of everything."

The Moon stood bright in the sky, a beacon in the darkness of the night. I wonder what people are thinking about when they look into the night sky and see that silver coin gazing down at them. Do they look up at the sky and curse at the Moon for bringing death and destruction, for changing everything and making the world so radically different? Or do people bless the Moon for changing the world, giving people a chance to have something different in their lives?

We laid on our backs and looked into the clear night sky. "Is that the North Star?"

"No," he said and guided my arm. "That's the one."

He turned his head towards me. "I wish we had a telescope."

"My Dad had one in the garage. We haven't used it since the day of the Mooncrash."

"I wish you had brought it."

"You should've told me earlier."

"True," he said. "We should do this again, but with a telescope."

"Yeah."

We gazed at the faint flecks of light in the sky for a couple of minutes. It was difficult to see much. The Moon was simply too bright. It's definitely a curse for stargazing. After some time, we got up and started walking home. The neighborhood was quiet. No growling cars, chattering of family gatherings, rumbling of airplanes in the distance. Only the chirping of crickets and faint crashing of the waves.

July 1

Things are going bad with the volcanoes. The radio wasn't as staticky today, so I was able to hear the news reports. For the Cascade Range volcanoes up in Northern California and Oregon, scientists have been noticing large spikes in sulfur dioxide and other gases from around the volcanoes. They said that those signs don't mean that a volcanic eruption is going to come, but they warned us that there's a strong chance that will occur.

But the signs don't look good and there has been increased volcanic activity around the world. The volcano on Hawaii has been spewing out streams and streams of lava while volcanoes in Indonesia are rumbling again. I told May about this. "The volcanoes might be erupting.".

"Cool," she replied.

"What do you mean cool?" I asked. "We could die. People could die."

"We're not even close to any volcanoes. Do you see any outside," she said and pointed out of the window. "That's what I thought."

"But still, it could happen and—"

"The news is probably exaggerated," she said. "They do it all the time. Remember the time that the news was saying that everyone was going to get Ebola and die? Well guess what? It only infected a couple of people outside of Africa."

"That's because the government stepped in and stopped it. It can't stop this."

"Exactly," she said. "What can we do about it? Nothing. We're far away from the volcanoes, so we don't need to move. All we can do is wait until the news stops blaring about it."

"Okay," I said.

"Don't panic," she said. "Everything is going to be alright, and everything will return back to normal by the end of summer."

How can she think that everything is going to go back to normal? I just noticed that May is the only one that is acting like everything is going to be okay. Mom and Mira are gardening to make sure that we don't starve if the food runs out. Dad is going to council meetings to see if we're ever going to be able to fix up the houses by the water and get electricity back. I'm openly worried about the news and it seems like May is the only one not affected by the Mooncrash. She's taking pictures, going to birthday parties, pretending that everything is normal. Is this what hope is like or delusional dreams? I don't know.

I told Dad the same thing. "That's bad," he said.

"What are we going to do about it?"

"There's nothing much to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"We won't be able to stop the volcanic eruptions. Nobody will be able to. Not us, not the government, not even the world. The best that we can do is hope that it never happens."

"That's what May said too, kinda," I replied.

"Sometimes you should listen to your sister."

We didn't do much today, but I went into the pantry. Cans still lined the shelves, but I could tell that food was slowly disappearing. We still eat three meals a day, but if things take a turn for the worse, I don't know what we'll do.

July 2

There were a couple of tremors today during the afternoon. I was with Charles in the community garden when the first one happened. The ground began vibrating. "Are we in an earthquake?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "We should probably get down."

"Get down under what?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Should we move to an open area?"

"That seems like a smart idea," he replied.

There was a grassy field next to the community garden. The area was bordered by some trees, but none in the middle, so Charles and I ran out into the meadow. There were already a couple of people gathered there— probably volunteers for the community garden. But I noticed that there were only about ten or so people there, far less than what we started with in the beginning.

I was going to talk about that with Charles, but the tremble got stronger. Trees rustled and crows roosting on their branches flew away, forming flocks of black in the sky. I heard a crash of plastic. The greenhouse fell down. There were a couple of groans and some cursing. "I feel bad for the greenhouse people," I said.

"Yeah, they worked pretty hard over the summer for it."

"Do you think they're going to restart?"

"Probably," Charles said. "Or they might start working in the main garden and abandon the project. With all the earthquakes, I don't think they're going to be able to make much progress anyways."

"There aren't many people here," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "Told you that everyone is leaving."

"Are you going to be leaving?" I asked.

"Probably not," he said. "We won't have anywhere to go even if we wanted to leave."

I breathed a sigh of relief. We chatted a bit more until the people in charge of the gardening effort told us that the earthquakes made working in the garden too dangerous because of trees and things falling, so they dismissed us early. We're still meeting next week though.

Charles and I walked home together. He asked all of a sudden, "Are you going to leave?"

"No," I said. "Well, probably not. Why are you asking?"

"Why did you ask?"

"I was just curious, that's all."

"Okay," he said and turned towards me. "Have you thought of your five things on your bucket list?"

"Not really," I said. "The only thing that I've got so far is 'Make Charles do something embarrassing.'"

"You better have your goals down next week because we're starting."

"Don't we have all summer to do it."

"Didn't you hear?" Charles said. "The mayor says that we're getting power by the end of the month."

"How?" I asked. "That doesn't make any sense. There's no way the city could get all the solar panels and wind turbines up or ship in enough oil to power the city."

"I don't know," he said. "All I know is that everything is going to go back to normal by the end of the month, so we better hurry up."

"Okay," I said, and we reached his house. "See you next week."

"You better have your list ready."

"Totally," I said.

"That better not be sarcastic," he shouted back and waved goodbye.

A couple of minutes after I got home, another tremble hit, but it was softer than the one at the community garden. I went into my room and cranked the radio one. The scientists were talking about the Moon's effect on the volcanic eruptions. Because it's much closer than before, the Moon's gravity is pulling on the magma in the mantle and forcing it upwards to the surface and causing volcanic eruptions.

The volcanologists have been monitoring volcanoes worldwide and many of them are steaming up and becoming more active. The only good news is that the supervolcano in Yellowstone doesn't seem like it's going to erupt soon, but scientists believe that it's going to happen in around a century or two.

I was going to keep listening to the radio when Mira interrupted me. "Are you listening to the radio again?"

I nodded. "It's all bad news."

"I know," Mira said. "I could hear it from the hallway."

She took the radio out of my hand. "You should take a break from this. Too much bad news isn't good for you."

"But what if something new—"

"Any new information won't help you and it won't help us," Mira said. "Relax. Read a book. Help me with the garden. Just do something."

"Fine," I said. "I'll read a book."

"It better not be about volcanoes or natural disasters. Read something more positive like a comedy or romance or something like that."

"I don't have any books like that though."

"The library is open, right?" she said.

"I don't know," I said. "I'll go and check tomorrow."

"In the meantime, you can help me with gardening. We've got a lot to do," Mira said.

"I'll pass," I said. "I'm going to play cards."

"With who?" she said.

"Myself," I said.

"What card games can you play by yourself?"

"Solitaire," I said.

"Okay," Mira said. "But you better not touch the radio."

"Got it," I said, and Mira left the room.

I laid out the cards and played a couple of rounds, but I got bored quickly. I grabbed the radio from on top of the drawer and dimmed the volume, listening to the news. The radio spouted out estimations about death toll, economic impact, ecological damage, everything bad about the volcanoes. I wanted to be hopeful, but it's hard when the whole world is saying that the volcanic disasters might wipe out millions of people.

July 3

It happened sometime during the night.

The sky was dark and gray in the morning when I woke up. I thought that it was five in the morning, but it was around nine. May was the only one awake. "Why is it so cloudy today?" she asked. "It never rains here during the summer and it's only ever foggy here in spring."

I looked out of the window. The sky was a deep shade of gray, obscuring the sun and blueness of the sky. "Hello," May said. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Also," she said and pointed out. "It's snowing for some reason."

I stepped outside. It was quite warm, seventy degrees at least. There was no way that it was snowing. A gray flake landed on my arm, powdery and dusty. "It's ash," I said. "We should stay inside."

I went inside and woke Dad up. "The volcanoes have erupted," I told Dad and he told me to wake everyone up to meet at the dining table. After I woke everyone up, I grabbed the radio and cranked it a few times. The news was grim. Volcanoes all along the Cascade Range, some of which were thought to be extinct, erupted at night, wiping out most of Oregon and Washington along with parts of California.

"How do you know?" Dad asked as we circled around the table.

"The dark clouds in the sky aren't really clouds. They're volcanic ash," I said. "And the radio is saying that the volcanoes up north have all erupted."

"That's bad," Dad said.

"No, duh," May said.

"Not now, May," Mom said. "First thing we're going to do is to close all the windows. Breathing in all this ash is going to be bad for everyone's lungs."

"Neal," she said. "You're in charge of sorting out the windows."

"The next thing we're going to do is to bring in all of the potted plants so that the leaves don't get covered with dust. Mira and I will do that."

"But what about the ash?" I asked.

"Remember those masks that we bought for the wildfires. Everyone is going to have to put them on."

"But they're so uncomfortable," May said.

"Everyone is putting them on," Mom said.

"We should take the car in too," Dad said. "The dust is bad for the engine. Is there gas in the engine, Mira?"

"I don't know," Mira said.

"You were the last one to use the car. How do you not know?" Dad said.

"There's no time for petty arguments," Mom said. "Just try turning on the car and if it doesn't work, then we'll just have to push it into the garage."

"What about Grandma and Grandpa?" I asked. "Shouldn't we pick them up?"

"They're safe where they are," Mom said.

"I don't think so," Dad said. "There's going to be a lot of unrest after the volcanic eruption. It's best that they stay here for at least a couple of weeks until conditions get better. I can go get them if there's still gas in the car."

"But what if conditions don't get better," I added. "With all the ash in the air, we can't even see the sun. How are all the plants going to grow? I read one time that just one giant volcanic eruption caused famine, but with all these volcanic eruptions, will our garden even work?"

"That's a good point," Mom said. "We're going to need to start cutting down meals. Two meals a day from now on."

"Two meals," May exclaimed. "I'm going to starve."

"Mom," Mira said. "That seems a little extreme."

"Fine," Mom said. "Three meals on Sundays and Wednesdays. The rest of the days we're eating two meals only."

"What is May going to be doing today?" I asked. "You haven't assigned her anything."

"After you finish closing up all the windows, you and May are going to be counting up how much food we have if we ever need to ration."

Mom looked at all of us. "Is everyone ready to work?" she said. "Okay, good."

I went all around our house trying to close the windows. We had flung them all open because it was always hot at night. Finding and closing them was a chore, but it didn't take long. By the time that I had finished, May had finished organizing a chart system and we began to count up the cans of food. We've got around a thousand five hundred cans of food.

When I first added all the cans up together, the number seemed like a lot, but looking back at it now, we don't have a lot of food. We're eating twelve cans a day because Dad brought Grandma and Grandpa to our house. If we keep at it at this pace, we'll be out of food in four months. I don't know if the Sun is ever going to come out again, and if the volcanic ash is all over the world, then all our crops will die. The food deliveries that we receive every Saturday (except for today, though I guess it was because of the panic from the volcanoes) will start to get smaller and smaller. We'll start starving in the winter months and die slowly and painfully.

If the universe gave me a choice to reverse this whole disaster and prevent this whole Mooncrash, I think I'll take it now. I guess this future feels worse than my previous one.