The Storm Makers

by Jennifer E. Smith

  “Well, what about Otis?” she asked. “Are we gonna tell him?”

  Simon shook his head.

  “Why not?” Her voice was unintentionally loud; it pinballed around the tiny bathroom, and Simon put a finger to his lips, then slid down the door until he was sitting on the tiles, his knees drawn up to his chest.

  “Because he’d want to come, too,” he said. “Or he’d tell us not to go.”

  “Probably for good reason.”

  Simon lowered his eyes. “I need to see London again.”

  “Why?” Ruby asked, giving him a hard look. “What do you think that’s gonna help?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But he obviously wants me to come down there, and I figure maybe if I could just talk to him…”

  “Talk to him?” Ruby said doubtfully.

  Simon shrugged. “Maybe if he realizes I can’t make weather, he won’t care about me anymore. If he doesn’t think I’m special, maybe he’ll stop whatever he’s planning.”

  Ruby gave him a hard look. “Come on.”

  “What?” he asked, a bit too innocently, but she could see that his ears had gone pink, a sure sign of guilt.

  “It’s something more than that,” she said. “It’s got to be. Otherwise, this makes no sense. Why would you want to walk right into his hands? I mean, we have no idea what he wants you for, and there are about a million ways this could go wrong. What if he wants to hurt you?” She paused, tracing the edge of the sink with her finger. “Us. What if he wants to hurt us?”

  Simon bowed his head. “I just…”

  “What?”

  “I just feel like I need to do something,” he said after a moment. “All we’ve been doing is wasting time. I’m not getting any better, and Otis and Daisy aren’t helping. I haven’t made even a single raindrop since they started practicing with me. And London—he said he could teach me.”

  Ruby stared at him. “Teach you what? How to destroy people’s fields?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that,” she said, sliding off the counter and folding herself onto the floor beside him, her back against the bathroom door. “I know you’re frustrated, but I don’t think going to see London is the answer.”

  Simon didn’t look convinced. “He makes things happen,” he said, his voice cracking. “And right now, it just feels like all we’re doing is waiting around.”

  “Yeah,” Ruby said quietly. “For June twenty-first.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Whatever that is.”

  “It’s the summer solstice,” she told him. “The longest day of the year.”

  “I know that,” he said with a little scowl.

  “So remember when Daisy mentioned that earthquake earlier?” she asked. “They said it was March twentieth. Last year.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s the vernal equinox,” she explained. “The spring solstice.”

  Simon’s face was still blank.

  “And two years ago, there was that crazy blizzard on December twenty-first,” she said. “The one that killed a whole bunch of people in the Northeast.”

  “And?”

  “And three years ago,” she said, “there was that awful hurricane in Louisiana that hit on September twentieth. I checked. That’s the fall equinox.”

  Simon looked skeptical. “So you think London did all that?”

  “I know it seems a little far-fetched, but why else would they be so worried about June twenty-first?” she asked. “He’s only been Chairman for four years. So you see? He’s been planning disasters every year, moving forward in the calendar each time.” She held up her fingers and ticked them off as she spoke. “Fall equinox, winter solstice, spring equinox.”

  “So all that’s left is the summer solstice.”

  “Exactly,” Ruby said, watching her brother closely, trying to read the expression on his face. It was obvious that London had some sort of grip on him; he was like a plume of smoke, obscuring Simon’s view of things, and Ruby wasn’t sure how to get him clear of it. But beneath all that starry-eyed wonder, she knew there was someone who still cared about the same things she did.

  They were both quiet for a moment, and when Simon looked up, his face was tinged gray with worry. “Do you think he’s planning something around here?” he asked, and just like that, he came back to her. Just like that, he was her brother again.

  Ruby bit her lip, trying to hide her relief. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully, and Simon nodded.

  “Then maybe that’s what we need to find out.”

  twenty-three

  THE SLIP OF PAPER in Ruby’s hand fluttered in the breeze from the open window of the truck as they made their way into town. She tucked it into the front pocket of her backpack and looked up at the rearview mirror, where she could see Dad’s eyes roving over the brittle landscape. The dirt roads leading out of the farm were still cracked from the glare of the sun and shimmering slightly in the heat.

  There was still no breeze this morning, and Ruby couldn’t help wondering if London had decided not to wait for June 21 after all, if perhaps this had been his plan all along—that rather than some sort of biblical storm, they were instead being treated to a slower kind of torture, this unrelenting and punishing sun.

  As they neared town, it became clear that they weren’t the only ones worn down by the weather. A few older women with makeshift paper fans hovered in the door of the general store, and a man toting a bag of grain under his arm paused to pat at his forehead with the end of his shirt.

  As much time as Ruby had spent wishing to be anywhere but here, she felt a quick surge of affection for the place. She thought of the Fourth of July parade last summer, the tiny marching band tripping their way down this street, and the picnic that had followed, when Simon had gotten in trouble for launching a water balloon at the mayor’s wife. She pictured the many trips to the hardware store, the two of them deliberating over the bins of candy as if it were the gravest of decisions. And she remembered when they’d first bought the farm, waiting in the cool of the bank lobby until they heard the click of Mom’s heels on the marble floor, and Dad following closely behind, waving the paperwork in triumph. How happy they’d looked then, the idea of the farm still nothing but possibility, undamaged by the sun and the heat, the corn still nothing but kernels, the wheat only seeds in their hands.

  Now Ruby blinked out at the dusty street and the broken signpost at the main intersection as they turned the corner toward Daisy’s garage. She fidgeted with the seat belt, trying not to think of what might be ahead of them today, wishing she shared Simon’s certainty that this was the right thing to do. There was clearly a part of him that was still eager to see London again, to catch a glimpse of the mysterious world he might one day inherit. But Ruby chose to believe that the bigger part of him was trying to find a way to fix everything, to avert disaster on June 21. It was a fragile hope, but a hope nonetheless, and that was the part of her brother that Ruby was following today.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s here yet,” Dad announced as he threw the truck into park near the entrance to the garage.

  “She will be,” Simon said.

  “Want me to wait with you?” Dad asked as Ruby passed forward Simon’s backpack, then grabbed her own. She’d almost given them away this morning when Mom pointed out that she forgot her baseball mitt. After all, they were supposedly being picked up by Ben’s mom at the garage after spending the morning working for Daisy. It was supposed to be a day of baseball and hot dogs and lemonade, followed by a big sleepover in Ben’s newly finished basement.

  Only Simon and Ruby had other plans.

  “We’ll be fine,” Simon said. “She’ll be here soon.” Before he slid out of the truck, he reached over and gave Dad’s hand an awkward little pat. “Thanks for driving us.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Dad said, taking off his sunglasses.

  Ruby clambered up front, then fell into Dad’s arms for a hu
g. She inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of the soil that clung to his shirt.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s this for?”

  “Nothing,” she said, pulling away and forcing herself to grin. The lines on his forehead creased, but he only shrugged.

  “Call me tomorrow when you’re ready to come home, okay?”

  As Ruby joined Simon on the pavement, they both nodded. Dad wiggled his eyebrows at them, put on his sunglasses, and started the car. The two of them stood there and watched him pull out of the driveway, their eyes following the truck all the way down the long ribbon of road until it disappeared in the wheat.

  Once it had, Ruby let her backpack slip from her shoulder, feeling suddenly desperate. She glanced back at the garage, hoping Daisy might emerge, but they knew she was keeping it closed today so she could continue training Simon, which was exactly why they’d planned it this way. They were on their own.

  After a moment, Simon bent down and picked up Ruby’s backpack. His face was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded. But when she reached for the bag, she remembered the piece of paper inside, and she hesitated.

  “It’s a long bus ride,” she said, slipping the note from the pocket where she’d stashed it just before Simon turned to her with a look of great impatience.

  “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s a short bus ride, and then a longer train ride. We went over this last night.”

  “I’m just saying maybe I should use the bathroom first,” Ruby said, fixing her eyes on the door to Daisy’s office, which was set just to the right of the garage.

  “It won’t be open,” Simon said with a sigh, but even as he did, Ruby was already jogging across the driveway, the paper folded in her sweaty hand.

  “I’m just gonna check,” she called over her shoulder. She came to a stop at the glass door, where the CLOSED sign was hanging in the window, and made a show of jiggling the handle as she slipped the note into the mail slot. The night before, she’d suggested doing this very thing, but Simon had been quick to nix the idea. He didn’t want Otis and Daisy more involved than they already were; he insisted that he and Ruby needed to do this on their own.

  Still, when she saw the little square of white paper hit the floor on the opposite side, Ruby couldn’t help feeling relieved that at least someone would know where they were.

  “You’re right,” she said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders before turning around again. “It’s locked.”

  “No kidding,” Simon grumbled, holding out her backpack as she trotted back to meet him.

  Together, they crossed the pavement, moving away from the building and over to the little road behind it. At the far edge of town, just off a cracked piece of sidewalk, there was a small blue sign that indicated the bus stop, which was nothing but a green bench. The night before, Simon had looked up the schedule, and now he dug through his bag for the money he’d been saving for a new baseball bat. Ruby had tucked hers into her shoe.

  After about ten minutes, it became clear that the bus was running late, and Ruby could see that Simon was growing worried. What if they hadn’t read the schedule correctly? Or what if someone saw them there and told their parents? They hadn’t bothered to come up with a backup plan, so certain were they in this one, but now doubts filled the space between them as Ruby paced back and forth along the sidewalk and Simon picked at the peeling green paint of the bench with a scowl.

  Ruby took a moment to glance at the barometer, which she now always carried with her. For the first time, the arrow was tipped to warning. She swallowed hard.

  Not long from now, Otis and Daisy would be arriving at the pond. Ruby closed her eyes and tried not to think about them waiting there.

  “Are you sure—” she began, but Simon cut her off.

  “Yes,” he said. “But it’s fine if you’re not.”

  She took a seat beside him on the bench, and Simon swiveled to face her.

  “You don’t have to come,” he said. “It’s not about you, anyway.”

  Ruby looked away, not wanting him to see the way her eyes were starting to swim. No matter how much she tried to help, ultimately this was Simon’s battle. And right then, he looked ready for it; there was an intensity about him that—despite days of witnessing otherwise—made her believe he really could make it storm. He didn’t look like someone who needed help at all right now. But he was still her brother.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’m coming, too.”

  It was then, almost as if she’d conjured it herself, that the bus appeared. It slowed to a noisy stop before them and the door opened with a pop and a hiss. They gave their fares to the driver, a beefy man with a rapidly balding head, and then slid into the first seat, despite the bus being mostly empty.

  As they lurched away from the curb, Simon grinned at Ruby. “I can’t remember the last time I sat up front on a bus.”

  “I can’t remember the last time you sat with me,” she said, and he looked surprised.

  “I sit with you sometimes.”

  “Never,” she said, shaking her head. “You sit with all your friends in the back, and I always sit up here and read.”

  “Do I?” he said forcing a too-cheerful smile. “Well, I’m sitting with you now, aren’t I?”

  Ruby made a face. “It’s not like you have much of a choice.”

  The train station was only two towns over, and the bus moved swiftly along the country roads, past fields with elaborate irrigation systems working futilely against the drought, and pastures of cows huddled in knots beneath what little shade they could find, their tails flicking lazily at the flies.

  When they finally arrived at a town only a little bit larger than theirs, they grabbed their bags and hopped off the bus with minutes to spare before their train arrived. In the small depot, they once again counted out their dollar bills, and then climbed on board and purchased their tickets from the conductor.

  It had been a long time since Ruby had taken the train downtown. After they’d first moved, Mom had taken her on trips to the museums every couple of months.

  “Count me out,” Simon always said, just as happy to be left behind with Dad. But for Ruby, it was nice to be reminded that there was a whole world beyond the edges of the farm. They’d flip a coin to see who got to pick the museum, and Mom would inevitably choose the Art Institute. But when it was Ruby’s turn, she never failed to pick the Museum of Science and Industry, the great domed building filled with locomotive engines and enormous swaying pendulums, space shuttles and robots and submarines.

  And at the end of the day, when they’d return to the farm, she’d sit out in the barn and tell Dad what she saw, using her arms to demonstrate the size of the planets, the way an abacus works, the width of the trees in the rainforest exhibit. She loved those days, a kind of lifeline to the real world. But it wasn’t long before the trips became less frequent, and then eventually, they stopped going altogether.

  She wished now that their destination could be a museum instead of the unknown headquarters of some still slightly unbelievable and potentially terrifying organization. For now, it was easier not to think about what awaited them, to pretend this was just another holiday trip, a day in the city with her brother.

  The motion of the train was making her eyes feel heavy, and Ruby decided it was okay to close them for a minute or two. But when she opened them again, it was to find trees streaming past instead of crops. They were so green, so lush and bright and alive, that she thought for a moment she must be dreaming. It had been a long time since she’d seen anything so brilliant.

  “Looks a little different down here, doesn’t it?” Simon asked from beside her, and Ruby yawned.

  “Where are we?”

  “Not far from home, actually.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Still?”

  “No, I mean the old one,” he said with a rueful grin. “We’re pretty far from Wisconsin. You were asleep for a while.”

  Sh
e settled back into the orange cushion of the train seat, resting her head against the window, watching the world slide past. Soon the houses began to give way to bigger structures, blocky and imposing, and the green trees were replaced by billboards. If she pressed her cheek all the way up against the window, Ruby could see the skyline in the distance, the staggered buildings nothing but silhouettes against the noonday sun.

  She turned to Simon, about to ask if he had the address ready, but as she did she saw that he was pulling London’s business card out of his pocket. The corners were bent, and there was a piece of lint clinging to the edge, but they could clearly read the address beneath the logo of the little storm cloud.

  “Should we go there right away?” Ruby asked as the train drew closer, shadows falling across their faces as they moved in and out of tunnels. “We could grab some food first or something, maybe take a walk….”

  “Ruby,” Simon said. They both knew she was stalling.

  She dropped her chin. “I know.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he said as the train pulled into the darkened corridor of the station, the lights of the car flickering on. As they slowed to a stop, the passengers around them stood to gather their belongings, but Ruby remained frozen in her seat. If there was a point at which there was no turning back, at which they began something that could no longer be undone, this was that moment.

  But Simon was rising to his feet, pulling their backpacks from the racks above the aisle, and it seemed there was nothing more to do, and nothing more to say. Together, they stepped off the train and into the crowded station.

  twenty-four

  THE BUILDING LOOKED LIKE any other in downtown Chicago, sleek and black and endless, stretching high into the cloudless sky above them. Ruby and Simon stood on the sidewalk before it, their eyes grazing the floors upon floors upon floors.

  It had taken them nearly an hour to find their way here, a journey that consisted of two local buses and several blocks’ worth of wrong turns. But now that they’d arrived—their hearts lifting at the sight of the address, which was laid out in curving metal figures above the rows of revolving doors—it seemed as much a dead end as anything else. There must be hundreds of companies housed in this building, thousands of people. The card in Simon’s hand held no further instructions beyond the address itself, and it seemed wrong to just saunter in and ask the guy at the information desk on which floor they might find the secret society of people who wanted to inflict a major weather disaster upon them.