Storm. Brigid Kemmerer

Storm - Brigid Kemmerer


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      She stared at the doorknob, unsure whether to be dismayed or relieved. But at least she knew who had hold of her arm.

      Gabriel knocked again. “Hurry. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold her.”

      Angry footsteps, then the door flew open. Chris glanced from her to his brother and back. “Oh.”

      She stared back at him, knowing her face was still flushed, her eyes desperate for a fully clothed target. Luckily, Chris fit the bill with sweatpants and a tee shirt. She could see into the room behind him: nice, really. A double bed that hadn’t been made that morning, with a navy comforter haphazardly thrown across the bottom. The floor was mostly clean, though his laundry sat in a pile in the corner, under a rather impressive fish tank. It had a fluorescent light and everything, and reminded her of something a little boy would have. Finding it in his room was somehow ... charming. A desk sat by the open window, almost an afterthought. The tiny halogen light was on, books and notebooks strewn across the surface.

      “See?” said Gabriel. “A real one. Breathing and everything.”

      Chris didn’t look entirely happy about her presence. “What are you doing here?”

      She dug her free hand into her pocket and pulled out the sixty dollars. “Here.”

      His face went stony. He made no move to take the money. “You came all the way over here for this?”

      Becca wanted to throw the cash at him. She jerked her hand out of his brother’s. “No. I came all the way over here to tell you Tyler and Seth showed up at the pet store where I work.”

      Gabriel got in front of her and crossed his arms. The smile was gone. “What are you talking about?”

      She stared up and over his right shoulder and gritted her teeth. “Could you please put a shirt on?”

      “Did they hurt you?” said Chris.

      “No. Yes. It’s fine. Tyler just—” Her throat suddenly got tight.

      Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

      They were both staring at her. Of course.

      Chris shoved his brother in the shoulder. “Go. Put on a shirt.” Then he took a step back. “Come in. Sit down a minute.”

      She deliberated in the doorway for a moment, then followed him in. She glanced dubiously at the bed. No way was she sitting next to him on it. So she edged around him and sat in the desk chair. She dropped the crumpled twenties next to his Physics textbook.

      He settled on the corner of the bed and rested his forearms on his knees. “You want to tell me what happened?”

      She fought for any emotion to replace the tears. Anger usually did the trick, and this time was no exception.

      “Why’d you give me sixty dollars?” she demanded.

      “You said I owed you.” A dark smile, though there wasn’t much humor to it. “Personally, I thought sixty bucks was pretty cheap.”

      “Whatever. You know I was kidding. Didn’t you think what it would look like? You don’t have to treat me like a—”

      “Wait a minute.” He came halfway off the bed. “I didn’t treat you like anything. I asked you out, you said no.”

      “Asked me out. You asked me to a soccer game.”

      “So what?” He looked incredulous. “God, you are the most baffling girl—”

      “Oh, okay. Your brothers didn’t put you up to this? Maybe your friend Drew?”

      He was standing now, his fists clenched, a little flare of color on his cheeks. “What do my brothers have to do with anything?”

      “Hey, little brother.” Gabriel came back through the door and flopped on the bed, drawing his legs up to sit against the wall. “Girls are more likely to stay if you don’t fight with them.”

      Chris was still staring at her, his breathing a little quick.

      She looked away from him. Gabriel had put a shirt on—a dark green one with a screen print of a truck. It said, My other ride is your mom.

      Her eyebrows went up. “Hilarious.”

      He grinned. “I aim to please.” He reached up over his head and knocked on the wall. “Nicky!”

      She straightened. “Wait—look, I just came to—”

      “Trust me. He won’t want to miss this.”

      A door in the hallway opened; then his twin appeared in the doorway, wearing jeans and a Henley and an irritated expression. “If you want me to fix your homework, you need to leave me alone.” Then he spotted her. “You’re back.”

      “Yeah.” She glanced between him and Gabriel. “You do his homework?”

      “Just the math. It’s a miracle he can count to ten.”

      “I can count to one.” Gabriel gave him the finger.

      Chris sighed. He’d settled onto the end of the bed again, his expression flat and dark and full of unidentifiable emotion. “Just tell us what happened with Seth and Tyler, Becca.” His voice was low, intimate, almost too soft for company. He met her eyes and held them, making her pulse step up. “Then you can get out of here.”

      Becca couldn’t sort out the sudden emotion—she felt as if her heart had started scattering butterflies through her abdomen, then he’d kicked her in the stomach and pissed them all off.

      She swallowed. “They came by the pet store where I work. They were stealing dog food.”

      “Does Michael know that’s why you’re here?” said Nick.

      She shook her head. “Does it matter?”

      Gabriel snorted. “Doubt it.”

      A slow peal of thunder rolled in the distance. “They threatened you?” said Chris.

      Her arm still throbbed. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from touching it. “Someone else came in, and they ran off. It’s fine.”

      Chris was watching her a bit too intently. “They did hurt you.”

      “I’m fine.”

      A bolt of lightning split the sky, somewhere beyond the trees. This time, thunder cracked.

      Becca shoved out of the chair and tucked her hair behind her ears. She should never have come here. “Forget it.”

      She felt Chris behind her when she made it to the stairs. “Wait a minute,” he said.

      She didn’t. “Whatever your mess is with that guy Tyler, get me out of it, okay?”

      “Stop. Wait. Just tell me—”

      “You stop.” She whirled on him at the door. “You, Chris. You stop. I get hassled enough. I need my job. I don’t need to be in the middle of some version of West Side Story meets High School Musical.”

      “I’m not trying to hassle you.” His voice was intense and quiet, the way you’d talk to a cornered animal.

      “Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.” She seized the knob and gave it a firm yank. The humidity swirled through the doorway to grab her, latching onto her skin and refusing to let go. She stormed off his porch.

      Chris kept up. “Wait.”

      She ignored him, shoving through the night air to get to her car.

      “Wait. Please. Just tell me what happened.”

      Her key slid into the lock, but the door refused to give. She made a frustrated noise and slapped it with the heel of her hand.

      Then it started to rain.

      She swore. “Great.”


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