Part 5 (2/2)
”About that . . . I don't . . .” He scratched his head and seemed to lose his thread as the sky opened up and rain fell sideways.
Abigail watched with dismay as the windows grew foggy. This was going to soak her to the skin. The sirens were giving her a headache.
”I'm beginning to think this isn't your garden-variety tornado watch. Or is this,” he inclined his head at the row of trees that bowed like j.a.panese soldiers before a battle, ”normal for you Rawstonians?”
”We do get the wind and thunderstorms out here and this is the fifth, maybe sixth, tornado watch in less than a month,” Abigail said and sighed. ”Anyway, real quick before I let you get to a shelter, about the food cart? The red tape of the permits on the awning situation seems insurmountable to achieve by the Quilt Fair. So, just forget it, okay? I'm going to figure something else out. There is no money left to pay the food cart mafia for their ridiculous permits. I'll just rent a couple of those tent canopy things, whatever you call them. One of those outdoor things . . . you know . . .” her laughter was stilted. ”No problem. Maybe if I hurry, I can do it now. Problem solved, ta-da!”
As Abigail triggered the automatic doors, she could see the sun, low on the horizon, peeking through the clouds. The storm seemed to have pa.s.sed. Time to bolt.
”Seriously. I don't think you should go out there.”
”I know. And I thank you for your concern. But trust me. I grew up here. I'll be fine. Thanks. Okay, bye-bye.”
Leaving her ridiculous umbrella on the counter where she'd left it, and before he could respond, she rushed outside. The wind and the rain felt wonderfully cool on her blazing cheeks as she darted across the parking lot to the street corner and beat on the walk b.u.t.ton with her fist. Her car was just across the street. She'd never been so eager to climb inside and lock the doors. And have a good cry.
7.
6:25 p.m.
Fingers entwined, Brooke Nakamura and Nick Gleason stepped out of the blast furnace that was the RHS gymnasium and into the cooler air near the propped-open back doors. The temperature was changing quickly outside, and Brooke reveled in the fresh air that dried her neck and face. The music was alive and pumping and jumped outside after them, giving Brooke the blissful feeling that she and Nick were still at the party, but alone, too.
Across the parking lot, the high school's tennis courts and batting cages loomed in the distance. Scoreboards towered at both ends of the football field, proclaiming this land to be the Home of the Rawston Raiders. Next week, a handful of food carts would be set up on the fifty-yard line, as the area would be transformed for the Rawston Taste portion of the Quilt Fair. Brook knew her dad, mom, and Aunt Zuzu would work their tails off to make a ton of sus.h.i.+ to donate to the school's fundraiser. It would be fun.
Brooke breathed deeply. Life was good, here in Rawston. Beautiful. The sun was setting and the sky was moody and glorious; swirling and billowing with excitement, just like her dress. The wind felt good after the stuffiness of the crowded gym. It was wall-to-wall people in there.
”Can you hear me?” Nick shouted at her and she laughed at his dopey expression.
”No! Can you hear me?” she hollered back. The ba.s.s had throbbed so long and so loud that her ears were ringing.
”No!” His grin mischievous, Nick tugged her past the doors and around the corner into the shadows of the basketball shed. The covered area was little more than a tall lean-to, jutting from the gym. It was mainly used for one-on-one and intramural games when the gym was occupied. He leaned against the brick wall, and held her so they stood facing each other. She tucked the netting of her skirt between her legs, to keep the wind from whipping it and snagging it on the bricks.
”Having fun?” he shouted.
”Yes.” Brooke nodded and wrapped both of her hands around his forearms and could see her nails twinkling in the waning sunlight. She felt beautiful when she was with Nick. Abigail had done amazing things with her hair, and her dress was perfect. This night was perfect. Nick was perfect. ”It's magic.”
”Yeah. It is.” The song changed and the tempo slowed and thrummed pleasantly in Brooke's chest. Nick pulled her arms up, around his neck and he locked his hands at the small of her back. Leaning in, he brought his mouth to her ear. ”Dance?”
”Out here? Just the two of us? Now? ”
His nod was broad and playful. ”Yes! Why? Can't hear the music?”
”What?” she hollered back and rested her head against his shoulder as they began to sway to the beat. This was so fantastic. To be young and free and wrapped in the arms of someone who was not her brother and not yelling at her for missing a cue. Tyler, in fact, was still in the gym, tearing up the dance floor with at least a dozen different partners. Hopefully, he wasn't trying to spin or toss them or chastise them for not hitting their mark. She grinned at the images that flitted through her head. All the girls wanted a turn with the Olympic hopeful, and Tyler basked in the attention.
”You look awesome tonight, Brooke. Beautiful.” Nick's words were like helium. They made her so giddy she clutched him tighter, just so she wouldn't float away. ”And you are the best dancer out there.”
”No, you are!” She protested, giggling.
”Bull. Your brother is ten times better than me.”
”No way. Besides, he's my brother, which means he'll never be as good a partner as you.” She could feel him inhale, his chest expanding against hers.
”Brooke . . . I've wanted to talk to you about something for a really long time, but,” he said and laughed, ”I guess I haven't had the nerve.” His face was pressed against the side of her head now and his voice tickled her ear.
She nodded because the way he was holding her, she got the feeling he didn't want her staring at him as he spoke.
”I know we've been best friends for a couple of years . . . but . . . I . . . I think it's more than just . . . you know . . . friends.h.i.+p now, Brooke.”
She knew. And she agreed. Bubbles, like those in a freshly poured goblet of sparkling water rose in her belly and crowded her throat. She pulled back just enough so that he could hear her. ”Me, too!”
His arms tightened around her waist, and she responded by locking her fingers more firmly at the nape of his neck. Above the beat of the music and the pounding of their own hearts, neither of them could hear the hail begin to drum on the shed's roof.
Nor could they hear the sirens screaming back in town.
6:26 p.m.
Just as the light finally changed to walk and Abigail stepped onto Homestead Avenue, it began to hail in earnest. But this was not the innocent marble-sized hail that would build up like so much slush and then quickly melt away. Oh, no. This was s...o...b..ll-sized hail and looked as if it had been packed together from marble-sized hail. By monster fists. And hurled by those same fists in some macabre game of dodgeball. Behind her-and over the wail of yet another storm siren-she could hear it bouncing off the few cars that were still parked at Danny's Hardware. It slammed her shoulders and back, and it hurt worse than paintb.a.l.l.s shot point-blank.
Head down, purse up, she wobbled and slid toward the Quick In Go. Luckily, she favored large purses because hers was now pulling double duty as a hard hat. What had seemed like such a brilliant parking plan at the time was a major inconvenience now. It was nearly impossible to walk on these slippery golf- and grapefruit-sized b.a.l.l.s of ice. And dodging them was even trickier. The mere block to her car seemed suddenly endless. And merciless.
Just as she was considering diving into a hedgerow and hoping for the best, she heard a pickup truck pull up beside her and a familiar voice shout, ”Get in!” The driver's side door swung open and Justin reached for her arm. Abigail felt herself being propelled over his lap and into the safety of the seat beside him. He turned his flashers on as all around them they were suddenly a.s.saulted by icy shrapnel. The drumming on the roof and windows was ear splitting and terrifying.
”Good grief,” Abigail cried, clutching her purse to her chest and squinting at the onslaught. ”This is insane! All this ice? In all this heat? What on earth? ”
”You've never seen anything like this before?” Justin asked.
Eyes wide, she blinked at him. ”Not like this, no way.”
”Where are you parked?” His mouth was set in a grim line.
Abigail pointed across the street to the next driveway. ”At the Quick In Go.” The noise on his roof sounded like the drums Abigail had heard at the Samoan dance showcase at last year's Quilt Fair. Bongos. Tattooing out some sort of crazed anti-rhythm.
”I'll drive you to your car, but I really think we'd be better off inside somewhere. I don't know how long a winds.h.i.+eld can stand up to this kind of battering.” Slowly, Justin accelerated, slipping a bit before he gained traction and began to move.
”Thank you.” Gnawing her lower lip, Abigail peered up at the black clouds that were circling like buzzards over a carca.s.s. ”This is not normal.”
”This huge hail?”
”And that. Up there. What is happening in the sky,” she explained and pointed to a swirling ma.s.s of black thunderclouds.
”Whoa. Looks like the mother s.h.i.+p is trying to land.”
”Yeah,” she breathed. It really did. ”Oh, you missed the turnoff.”
”Sorry. I'll turn around up here in the factory lot.” The hail had turned the parking area white in a bizarre hailstorm that had steam rising from the hot asphalt. In the rearview mirror, she could see that the truck's tires left a huge black circle in their wake.
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