Page 7 of The Storm

I really should’ve punched him. I still could. I could lunge across this table.

But I don’t.

I lookaround the guest room, shoulders slumped. There was a brief, tense argument with Mom about whether we would stay or not that I swiftly lost. She’s exhausted, and no matter how strong the urge to insist we leave is, I can’t do it to her, so now I’m standing in the middle of one of the several guest rooms this house has, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides, cursing the fact that I’m too young for a driver’s license. I know how to drive. I’ve driven plenty of times at home. But that’s different. Small town. Everybody knows everybody, everybody knows our situation, so on occasion, the local sherif will let it slide when I get caught. Here, Mom says we can’t risk it. Logically, I know she’s right. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.

A knock on the door makes me whirl around.

Liz stands in the doorway.

We study each other carefully. Cautiously. And I think…Do you know?

She puts on a smile.

I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

I don’t know how much Mom told her. What she told her.

I search her face for a hint, some kind of clue about why Mom was so insistent that we come here. Sure, we don’t have any relatives, not many close friends either, but why these people? These strangers? Why are they so important to Mom?

“I brought you clean towels.” Liz walks past me and puts a stack of them on the bed. More than I could possibly need for an overnight stay. She turns around and looks at me, taking me in. Every detail of my face. Every awkward twitch of my fingers.

“I’m glad you’re here. You and your mom. It’s…” She seems to be at a loss for words for a bit. Eventually she just smiles wider and says, “We’re all glad.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I don’t have the words, and even if I did, they’d most likely be full of the anger I’ve been trying to suppress for so long. Or desperation. I swing wildly between the two these days.

We stand awkwardly for a bit longer before she reaches out, gives my arm a quick squeeze, and walks out.

I sit down on the edge of the bed. Ideally, I’d just go to sleep and then the torture of staying in this house would be over that much sooner. Instead, it feels like sitting still makes my whole body itch unbearably.

I pace, trying to shake it off. All of this day. The restlessness. The increasing weight of this house and these people. The constant anger I carry around with me nowadays like an extra layer of skin.

It doesn’t work.

Eventually, I give up. I step into the hallway and quietly close the door behind me. I have no idea where I’m going or what the plan is. Maybe I’ll sneak back to the boat shed and just sit on thedock until it’s time to leave. It’s the only part of this place where I somehow felt peaceful.

I start to move down the hallway just as the door next to mine flies open and Indy, eyes on a thick book in his hand, walks straight into me.

He lets out a small sound of surprise and then goes beet red.

“Shit. Sorry.” He rubs his palm over his forehead subconsciously. “Sorry,” he repeats. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” There’s that smile again. That hopeful smile that makes my fingertips buzz and my pulse jump into my throat.

He puts the book on a shelf and tilts his head to the side. “You want to see something?”

I want to say no, but somehow, completely abandoning common sense, I shrug instead.

His face lights up and my heart jumps. Itjumps.

My teeth clench, and my fingernails dig into the soft parts of my palms. This is not okay. I don’t want this.

And still, somehow, I follow him into his room, drawn forward by some invisible string.

The walls are moss green. There’s a bed with slate gray sheets and shelves full of trophies and medals. And plants. Plants everywhere. What little space is left on his walls is covered in posters and photos.

Indy goes and pushes the window up. He sends me yet another smile over his shoulder then climbs out.

With no idea what he wants to show me, I follow him. We end up sitting on the gently slanting roof just outside his window. There are no other houses nearby, so it’s dark. Millions of stars light up the sky above us, and I can hear the faint sound of waves gently lapping the shore. It’s the kind of idyllic moment you don’t get in my hometown.

For a while, we both sit silently. My thoughts stop racing. It’s almost peaceful. I almost forget that I’m angry all the time.