by Holly Hook
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An hour passed in the crowded high school hallway and the howling outside got louder. Gusts made the sides of the school whistle and groan. Children started to shift on their blankets while their parents held them close. One little boy asked for some cheese puffs and kicked the blanket when his mother said she’d left them out in the van. Strings of emergency lights ran along the floor, making everything all eerie and shadowy.
And meanwhile, her father sat against some lockers and stared at the wall opposite him. He hadn't said a word since they got here.
Janelle plucked her silver dolphin necklace from under her tank top, rolling it in her fingers as she focused on its tiny smile. It had belonged to her mother before a patch of black ice and a tree had taken her life in a car accident when Janelle was three. She closed her eyes and went back to the last memory she had of her. Janelle held a basket. Her mother led her around the yard, deep brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. The grass was wet, making Janelle’s pajamas damp. A bright blue egg appeared next to the trunk of their big oak tree, and Janelle picked it up and put it in her basket, next to the others.
“The storm should be almost over,” her father said.
Janelle opened her eyes, jarred out of the memory. She let her necklace drop back to her chest.
“But what’s our house going to look like when we get back?” she asked.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “Just wait and see.”
She couldn’t be sure. Water might even be rising around it, like with Hurricane Andrina. The pictures on the news of roofs peeking up from floodwater and bodies under sheets gave her nightmares when she was ten. Her father had yelled at her and told her to leave the room whenever it came on TV. But Andrina had been a Category Five, and this storm was a Two. It wasn’t the same, right?
The wind outside stopped as if choked off. The battering rain on the roof ebbed away. Heads perked up. Janelle expected another gust to hit the building, but it never came. The storm couldn’t be done already.
Mutters floated up and down the hallway.
“It’s over.” The kid who'd asked for the cheese puffs stood and peered at the doors.
A sliver of pale sunlight hit the brick wall near a trophy case, only to disappear a second later. Cheese Puff Boy looked and down the hall for his mom, who’d walked past Janelle to the bathroom a minute before.
The weather radio droned away. “Gary has made landfall in the Palm Grove area and has weakened to a Category One storm with estimated winds of up to eighty miles per hour. It is expected to be downgraded to a tropical storm very soon. As of now, it is headed west at ten miles per hour.”
The kid didn’t notice. He was too hungry, too oblivious. Bunching up his blanket, he started for the door.
“Um…” Janelle leaned after him, but he kept walking. He pushed the door open. He was walking right out into--
“No!” She shot up and bolted for the doors as the kid disappeared through them, out into the deceptive calm. “It’s not over. It’s the e—”
"Janelle, let me go," her father demanded, standing.
It was too late. She ignored him, ramming into the door as it closed. The door squealed and banged against the wall of the school. Footfalls came behind her. Others were coming, too.
The air outside was damp, still. Thin clouds stretched and floated overhead. Ponds had replaced parking spaces, and leaves stuck to the windshields of every vehicle. Down the street, a power line hung low over the pavement.
"Kid!" she yelled, scanning the lot. Babysitting was not the career choice for her.
The boy tugged on the doors of a van. He stared at her, but didn't move. The clouds continued to roll overhead. The other side of the storm would hit any second. There was no time for diplomacy. She ran through a puddle after him.
"Janelle--" her father started behind her, all no-arguments.
“Come back in. Now.” Janelle took the kid's wrist.
“Ow!” The boy thrashed, his voice a genuine scream of pain. He thrashed against her grip as it rang in her ears. “You’re hurting my arm! Let go!”
Janelle let go in shock. The boy drew away and ran back towards the door, grasping his wrist. She hadn't even held onto him that hard. It didn’t make sense.
“You okay?” she called after him. But he ran faster, pushing past an old man in the doorway and vanishing inside the school. It left a sick feeling inside her.
A lone raindrop hit her on the forehead.
“Let’s get back in.” Her father took her arm nodded back at the door. It meant hurry. Why was he being all worried now? “Be a bit more careful with your strength next time.”
“What strength?” Janelle held up her bony arms. Nothing like that had happened before. He had to be joking.
Movement in the middle of the parking lot caught her eye and she stopped.
A vortex of mist and water spun between an SUV and her father’s silver truck, shimmering in the pale light and not making a sound.
Janelle leaped back, crashing into her father. A tornado. She’d read that hurricanes could spawn them. But this one was eight feet high and the sky was still a calm gray. It was all so…
Weird.
“By golly. What is that?” An old man appeared at her side and stood with his mouth dropping open.
“Dad?” She glanced at him and back to the silent vortex.
“Janelle, inside. Now.” Her father pulled on her shoulder. “I said go!”
But she couldn’t move or look away. Her mind raced around, searching for an explanation. The vortex tightened and spun faster, spraying droplets on the surrounding cars like a sprinkler in July. It didn’t come any closer. Maybe a water main had blown loose or something. Or the winds had come together just right over a puddle and--
The vortex exploded, sending water to the ground in all directions. Gasps shot up from the crowd. An army of droplets flew right at her, splattering over her and re-soaking her clothes. She blinked them away to look for the cause.
A teenage boy stood right where the vortex had spun a moment before.
She blinked. This guy looked drowned. Stringy black hair stuck to the back of his scalp and his purple T-shirt clung to his skin. He wobbled in place like a newborn calf. He raised a dripping arm, reaching for something to hold onto. His palm flopped down on the windshield of a truck, but to no avail. He groaned and tumbled to the pavement with a thud.
“Oh, my god,” a woman cried out from the doorway.
Janelle looked back at the people gathered behind her. Nobody moved. The old man stared with huge eyes while her father swallowed.
“Janelle.” Her father spoke slowly now. “Go back in the building.”
She couldn’t. No one else was rushing to help this kid. Janelle rushed towards the body on the ground. She’d figure out what she’d seen later. They needed to get this kid inside before the other side of the hurricane hit.
“Janelle!” Her father’s hand brushed the back of her shirt.
She squatted down in a puddle of water and seized his limp left arm, curling her fingers into his wrist. Her first aid classes spun through her head. A strong, steady pulse beat underneath his skin. This guy was just unconscious. She let out a huge sigh of relief.
“He’s alive. Help me get him up.” Janelle made to hook her hand under his armpit while the crowd drew close. Her father stood there, deflating like a child caught doing graffiti by his mom.
The drenched guy coughed and his purple sleeve crept up as she helped tug him to his feet. Janelle froze and stared at the arm just inches from her face.
No, it couldn’t be. But it was.
The boy had a familiar grayish birthmark on his upper arm. A birthmark in the shape of a spiral. A mark exactly like hers.
Chapter Two
