Rose followed Kurt beyond the cordon, past a paint-spattered boombox blasting vintage Aerosmith. Heads turned as they stepped into the klieglights and tramped across the playground, churned to muddy spots by the wheelbarrows and foot traffic. She smiled in a professional way, though she knew they weren’t fooling anybody. Workmen looked up and nodded hello before they returned to their tasks. Their faces were streaked with sweat, and they seemed not to recognize her, either because they weren’t local or they’d been working nonstop, with no time for TV news.
Rose asked, “I guess you rebuild the cafeteria after you throw all this stuff out, huh?”
“Basically, yes. I’m with Bethany Run Construction, and we’ll do the demo, then the framing and construction. Here, follow me.” Kurt led her to the threshold of the playground exit, where the blackened double doors had been propped open with cinderblocks. Calcium-white light flooded the area, illuminating the hallway. Soot blanketed the walls, and the glass ceiling fixtures had been shattered.
“My God,” Rose said half to herself.
“The hall is messy, but structurally sound. There’s nothing unsafe about it, see? Got certified right off. It’ll be good to go as soon as we clean up the water.” Kurt walked ahead, gesturing at a series of noisy black machines. Hoses sprouted from each one, affixed to corrugated black mats that were duct-taped to the grimy floor. “Bet you’re wondering what these puppies are.”
Rose was drawn to the cafeteria, which was a hellish sight. The tables, chairs, and decorated bulletin boards had been removed, leaving a black shell of a room. Smoke had blackened the walls, obscuring the cheery blue-and-white tiles, and the ceiling was gone, exposing steel joists, aluminum ductwork, and electrical wiring.
“I’ll explain, hold on. It’s so damn noisy, I can’t stand it.” Kurt stepped to the first machine and pressed a red POWER button. The machine shuddered into silence, though the others thrummed loudly. “See, these are Injectidry machines. They’re on day and night. The water sprinklers went off here, and the machines suck the moisture out of the subfloor, so it doesn’t warp.”
“Got it,” Rose said, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the cafeteria. The floor tiles were cracked, and charred rubble lay in piles where it had been swept; broken ceiling tiles, split wooden beams, and filthy debris. The skylights were gone, and the blue tarp covering square holes they left behind made an azure glow, like a tropical sky.
“Those machines over there, they’re different.” Kurt pointed down the hall to a series of tall gray machines, also boxlike and attached to a generator. “They’re dehumidifiers on steroids. Not the kind you have in your basement when the sump pump goes out, if you get me. They make sure no toxic mold gets a chance to form, in case you were worried about that for your kid. Did you say you have a boy or a girl?”
“A girl.” Rose took a step toward the cafeteria, where the front wall of the kitchen had been demolished. She could see through to the industrial ovens and stainless steel shelving in the kitchen, which lay twisted and in pieces, like the residuum of a twenty-car collision. She could imagine how the blast had killed poor Serena and Ellen.
“I have a niece that I’ve taken to Disney World, my sister’s kid. Her dad’s in Iraq, so I’m spending a lot of time with her. I taught her to throw, and she goes to the Phils games with me, too.” Kurt gestured at the hallway. “See, it’s all sound. I’d send my own niece here. You got nothing to worry about.”
“Great.” Rose took another step down the hall, and from the new perspective could see that the explosion had blown away the wall between the kitchen and the teachers’ lounge, which was only partially blackened, but full of broken cabinetry and a yellow Formica counter that had been cracked into pieces, like a nightmare puzzle.
“We’ll have this fixed up good as new. Better.” Kurt leaned over, lowering his voice. “You ask me, they opened too soon. You can’t rush a job, especially the electrical. It always bites you in the ass.”
“I bet.” Rose came out of her reverie. “It’s sad to see where somebody died.”
“Nobody suffered, if that helps you. The explosion was in the gas line in the back wall of the kitchen, a three-quarter inch pipe that feeds the oven in the kitchen and the teachers’ lounge. It took out everything instantly.”
“How terrible,” Rose said, heavily. “A gas leak? Why didn’t they smell it?”
“It was in the wall, and maybe they did, for all we know. Tell you something about the smell of gas, you get desensitized. You smell it in the beginning, then you stop noticing it.” Kurt seemed to catch himself. “That’s not the official cause, they didn’t say that yet, and you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Hear what?”
Kurt laughed. “Let’s go.” He motioned, leading Rose back down the hall, out the exit door, and into the blinding klieglights. She put up her hands, shielding her eyes, and he held her elbow. “Watch out for that pile of junk.”
“Oops!” Rose looked down at a heap of blackened debris on a tarp, a heartbreaking sight. Twisted pieces of rebar and busted dry wall mixed with a Toy Story lunchbox, a crushed juicebox, and a broken Sony PS2. She flashed on Amanda, showing her new iPod to the girls at the table. Suddenly, it struck her why Amanda had run back into the school. The blond teacher could have missed her running back in, like Leo had said, because she’d been on the other side of the students being evacuated to the playground.
“An iPod,” Rose blurted out, and Kurt looked over.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” Rose answered, saddened. Amanda lay in a coma tonight, because of a shiny new toy. And because of her.
“Here, take my card.” Kurt dug in his pocket, extracted a wrinkled business card, and handed it to her. “Call me if you need a deck, or if you dump that husband of yours.”
“Thanks.” Rose smiled.
“Feel better, now that you’ve seen the school?”
“Yes,” Rose lied, and when she turned away, she dropped the smile.