Storm Boi 🌩️ (ON HOLD)

Part 4

The storm welcomed me back greedily, tearing at my clothes with prying fingers and slapping the slack fabric of my hood against the back of my head as though taunting me. I narrowed my eyes against the churning sea of grit and dead leaves, finding my way around to the back of the single-wide more by memory than sight.

The way the yard sloped down to the stream was what truly made Eleanor's house the nicest in the park; for that, it was almost worth practically being in the shadow of Mr. Keller's place. I'd avoided ever running into him directly; the horror stories about his cantankerous nature were enough to keep me on this side of the stream, where I belonged.

To my relief, the umbrella had gotten itself lodged upside-down at the edge of the stream - so if I moved fast, I could grab it without risking being impaled by the exposed bottom end. The parched grass was dangerously slick from the driving rain, but I hunched down against the force of the wind and trotted forward.

A huge, dark shape heaved itself around the corner of the forest beside Mr. Keller's house, and I froze as the police car rumbled down the pothole-pocked driveway. Its brakes squeaking faintly as it stopped beside the dilapidated railroad ties that delineated driveway from yard, but the cruiser's blues were dark. Not an emergency, then.

The ranch's front door swung open, and I bent my knees, half-crouching as a silhouette I recognized as Mr. Keller emerged, clearly in no great hurry. He had to be in his seventies, but he strode forward to the edge of the steps like a feudal lord looking down on some unfortunate peasant just before a beheading.

Yet the officer wasn't the focus of Mr. Keller's attention, I realized; whoever it was, man or woman, they stepped out of the car and moved to the rear door, opening it in a way that suggested the person inside was a guest rather than a criminal.

What are you doing, Hartley? It was ridiculous to just stand here staring - I should just grab the umbrella, even if that meant attracting Keller's harsh gaze, and run back inside. But everyone in town knew Mr. Keller had driven away whatever friends he might've once possessed. Who'd come to see him - and why'd they ride here in a cop car?

It was probably all because of the vehicle, but I was maybe expecting some sketchy, tattooed, white-wannabe-Khal-Drogo-by-way-of-meth type of dude. But the passenger from the backseat wasn't a dude at all...and my stomach flipped as I saw her.

The was petite and curvy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and she moved with a dancer's grace - I could see that even through the sheeting rain. Her dress was a simple black thing that fell to just above her knee, and the white folds of a peter pan collar twisted amid the gusts like ribbons as she accepted the officer's hand and alighted from the cruiser, chin tilted back as she regarded the house and its master. Crisscrossed satin twined upward from her dark ballet flats, delicately wreathing her ankles, and as I watched, the officer retrieved a simple black suitcase from the cruiser's trunk.

Where'd she come from, Storybrooke? I was probably gaping, but I couldn't stop myself. She was just so...adorable.

The cop shouted something up to Mr. Keller and he grudgingly descended the front steps to stand before them. The girl stood off to one side as the two adults spoke, occasionally tossing her chin to urge the ink-dark curls of her hair out of her face. It fell past her shoulders, but she hardly seemed to notice it as she glanced all around.

Then her eyes found me.

I shouldn't be sure of it because of the hundred yards separating us, but I was the only thing she could be looking at - that or the umbrella. It was only as she lifted one hand to her lips and her shoulders shook that I realized she was giggling, probably from my strange quasi-crouching pose.

Great, it probably looks like I'm tea-bagging the Invisible Man. I straightened up, instantly self-conscious...but the girl only waved, a little flip of her hand that made her look for all the world like an inky-eyed anime princess.

The instinct to return the wave was automatic, and my hand jerked upward to shoulder height, awkwardly returning the gesture.

"The hell are you doing, Hartley?" I demanded, as though whispering to myself like a deranged loon was going to help anything.

My movement must've caught Mr. Keller's eye, because he and the officer both turned to look at me, too. I busied myself with extricating the umbrella from a snarl of roots that emerged from the streambed as they concluded whatever business was between them, and the officer returned to their car. A few moments was all it took for the cruiser to vanish back out of sight amid the forest, and then it was just the girl and Mr. Keller standing there alone.

The words may've been snatched away by the wind, but I could hear him yelling at her clearly enough. His pale, wrinkled face grew mottled with rage, the flush creeping upward from his neck until his face was as bruise-purple as the clouds writhing overhead.

I could hear her as she started crying, too - and it was like someone had ripped open my chest with their bare hands. Evil old jerk.

Keller gestured to the house, and the girl's dark hair swept forward to hide her face like clouds before the moon as she lowered her head. Her suitcase banged against her shins as she hefted it awkwardly up each step, and molten rage burned in my heart like a crucible. He couldn't even be bothered to help her with it.

The old man shot me a nasty look as he summited the rickety front stairs and disappeared into his house, shutting the door with a slam as pointed as a gunshot. My heart pounded a sickening tattoo against my ribs, and I felt nauseous with rage as I turned my attention back to the umbrella. Not my business. Head down, man.

It only took a few seconds of proper effort to dislodge it - but then I heard Eleanor behind me, her orthopedic sneakers squeaking against the sodden grass. Her voice was a low growl of warning: "You steer clear of that 'un."

"I have no reason to talk to Mr. Keller - ever," I said emphatically as I folded the umbrella back into its proper configuration. Mercifully, it didn't seem to have been damaged by its freewheeling journey across Eleanor's yard. "I'm just sorry for you that you have to live near him."

"Not him - her."

I blinked at Eleanor in astonishment. Morgan and Jimmi were the only real friends I'd ever had, and Eleanor knew it. "Yeah, I'm not about to turn into a social butterfly anytime soon."

"Look at me, Ben." Her voice was a command, not a question - and rather than argue with her, I simply sighed and obliged, pointedly raising an eyebrow so she'd know how stupid I thought this was. "Now, tell me the truth: are you going to stay clear of that girl, yes or no?"

"Yes," I huffed, starting to get genuinely offended that she was making me jump through all these hoops.

She narrowed her eyes - and then her eyes crinkled with mirth and she stepped back, cackling with dry humor.

"Believe me now?" I demanded.

Her answer came immediately: "Not a bit. And neither should you - but it's easy to lie to ourselves sometimes. Especially when the truth hurts."

I parted my lips to deliver a cannonlike retort, but a ray of sunbeam sliced through the clouds, silencing me. I hadn't noticed the wind quieting, but it was barely a whisper now; the vault of churning violet was calming, the dense clouds gently separating and becoming wispy like unspooling cotton candy. There was no point in fighting with someone five times my age, certainly not over a girl. "At least the storm's over. Glad it wasn't as bad as they were calling for."

Eleanor turned back toward the house, her hoarse laughter echoing off the vinyl siding. "We'll see."

I frowned after her, baffled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

An enigmatic light danced in her shadowy nectar eyes as she glanced back at me, shrugging. "Some storms just take longer to strike."

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