Tornado Brain

by Cat Patrick

  “Yes,” Tess and I said in unison.

  “And sit together?” Mom asked. “And keep your phones on vibrate?”

  We both nodded enthusiastically.

  “Which movie are you seeing?” Mom asked.

  “The superhero one,” Tess said. “It’s PG-13.”

  “You don’t like superhero movies,” Mom said, eyeing me skeptically.

  “This one looks good,” I said. Don’t ask me the title. Don’t ask me the title!

  “All right, you can go, but text when you get there, and be home by ten thirty,” Mom said, giving in.

  “The movie might not be over by then,” Tess said innocently.

  “Fine, eleven,” Mom said. “And text when you leave to come home.”

  “We will,” Tess said, nodding.

  “Promise,” I said.

  * * *

  —

  WHEN WE SET out, it was completely dark. I rode behind Tess—in the horror-movie, get-killed-first spot—because she still seemed off about the dark. It wasn’t so much that I minded riding in the dark, at least not yet, but I minded the change in Tess. I minded that she was afraid.

  We rode in the middle of Ocean Beach Boulevard because that’s where the lights from the houses on both sides of the streets shone the brightest. There aren’t any sidewalks in the residential part of the town, and besides, you can see headlights coming from a mile away.

  I followed the blinking light on the back of Tess’s bike, talking a lot to keep myself from thinking a lot.

  “Is it Seventeenth or Eighteenth?” I called to Tess. It was the third time I’d asked her.

  “Eighteenth,” Tess answered over her shoulder, her voice higher than usual. “Two more blocks.”

  “And what are we going to do when we get there?” I asked.

  “This was your idea, Frankie,” Tess said. “I don’t know!”

  “We’ll just look,” I said, trying to make myself feel better. “We can even look from pretty far away if we want.”

  My stomach did somersaults thinking about riding toward the Sea Witch instead of riding away from her as fast as I could like I wanted to. With every spin of the pedals, I dreaded where we were going more.

  In front of me, Tess bumped over a pothole and I dodged it. I kept talking. “Remember when Colette hit that huge pothole that was completely obvious to everyone else but her and she went over her handlebars?”

  Tess started laughing, which made me calm down a little. “Ohmygod, yes, she did a full flip in the air. She’s the worst bike rider; she’s so uncoordinated.”

  “And that sound she made . . . ,” I said, laughing, too. “Yeeeeee-oooow!”

  “I forgot about that!” Tess laughed harder. “She’s so lucky she landed in grass.”

  Tess took the right on Eighteenth and I followed, making a wide arc, and the somersaults in my belly were back. Tess slowed down; I almost ran into her back tire, pedaling backward to brake fast since the cruiser didn’t have a hand brake.

  “Let’s leave our bikes here,” Tess whispered.

  “Good idea,” I whispered.

  We walked the cruisers over to the side of the road and leaned them against someone’s tree. It was low hanging, and I hoped no spiders would drop into my hair.

  The big houses on this block were dark: they were probably vacation homes owned by people who didn’t live in Long Beach all the time. It felt like they’d been abandoned.

  “Maybe we should come back tomorrow,” I whispered. My heart was racing and my mouth felt like I’d eaten sand.

  “We’re already here,” Tess said, but she looked like a scared squirrel in a car’s headlights. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s just go.”

  Crouched together, walking carefully, we approached a huge house with ten steep steps leading up to a shadowy porch. It didn’t look anything like the porch in the ding-dong-ditch dare video, but it looked like a house where a witch would live. The roof jutted up to sharp points and the steps and house itself were solid brick and menacing. The mailbox said Sievich in faded, angry handwriting.

  “It’s not the same house in the video where Colette left the flowers,” I whispered to Tess.

  “How do you know?” she whispered back.

  “Those were wooden steps, not brick. And they were wider.”

  “You noticed that?” she asked, scooting closer to me. I shrugged. Sometimes I notice things. Sometimes I don’t. It’s like I’m always out of sync.

  Or at least usually. Gabe tells me not to use “forever” words like always. And forever. He says they’re almost always an exaggeration and exaggerations aren’t a clear way to speak.

  I missed Gabe.

  Tess was talking. “Why did Colette want to come here if—”

  “Listen,” I interrupted. I thought I’d heard something, but when Tess and I stopped talking, there was nothing but the ocean in the distance and a wind chime tinkling on a porch nearby.

  “Is that her driveway?” Tess asked, pointing to the gravel alley to the left of the house.

  “Probably,” I whispered. Tess started walking toward the driveway and I followed automatically because I didn’t want to be alone in front of the Sea Witch’s house. Of course I noticed that I was in get-killed-first position again. The trees were spooky black silhouettes. “This is a bad idea,” I said, tiptoeing behind my sister on the gravel.

  “Let me remind you: this was your idea,” Tess whispered, stopping suddenly when we were all the way down the driveway. “Ohmygod.”

  “Holy guacamole,” I said, blinking in the dim light from the outdoor lamps, taking in the yard. There were animals everywhere—dead, stuffed ones—all looking like they wanted to eat us alive. As I stared at a grizzly bear, something important clicked into place.

  I’d been here before—and I remembered why.

  I turned toward the porch, which stretched the entire length of this side of the house. It didn’t have any furniture, though, like no one ever sat out there, watching the sunset, listening to the waves. This side was covered in gray shingles, not brick, and had more windows than walls—every one of them dark. The house looked like two people with very different faces standing back-to-back: one guarding the street and one watching the ocean.

  On this side, the steps up to the porch were wide and wooden. These were the steps in Colette’s video.

  “This was her combo dare!” I whispered to Tess. “Remember? Colette dared us to do something nice and daring at the same time. She left taffy that time, but she still did the ding-dong-ditch. You both did it!”

  “You did it, too!” Tess said excitedly. “I had no idea it was the Sea Witch’s house!”

  “Me neither!” I said, horrified at the realization that Colette had come here on Thursday night to redo a dare from our childhood and might have been snatched by a crazy lady. “Do you think she’s going to have Colette stuffed like one of her animals?”

  “No!” Tess whispered. “Don’t say that!”

  Tess didn’t know about the Sea Witch’s warning, and I definitely wasn’t going to tell her right then, tiptoeing between carcasses of a bobcat and a super-scary-looking bird. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up: a sensation I hated very much.

  I looked in the direction of the beach, remembering approaching the house from that way. We’d leave our bikes on the bike path along the dunes and sneak through the huge lawn with little gifts, like pet rocks or taffy. Colette had chosen this house because she felt sorry for whoever lived here among all the dead animals. I wonder if she would have chosen it if she’d known who it belonged to.

  “Why did she film this dare again?” Tess asked quietly. “And why the running one—and the singing-in-public one?” She laughed a little. “You wanted to avoid the scare part of dare-or-scare so bad
that you were willing to do the singing dare, do you remember?”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t answer.

  Tess gripped my arm, making me jump. “Maybe she was just doing the dares all three of us did. Maybe she was making the videos as a goodbye present to both of us, Frankie!”

  It was a nice thought, but my pessimistic side wouldn’t let me believe that Colette had included me in this, especially since I’d yelled at her when she’d asked for Fred.

  “I don’t think so,” I whispered. “Like you just said, I did every single one of the dares because I didn’t want to be scared.”

  “But I didn’t,” Tess said. “And Colette didn’t. We liked the scares. It wouldn’t be that many, honestly. I mean, think about it: All three of us did the dares she made videos of, right? You sang, did this”—she gestured behind her at the house—“jumped off the dune, and stared at Jake, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think so.”

  “So did I—and so did she,” Tess said excitedly, her fear temporarily gone from her face. “We just need to figure out what other dares fit.”

  I was tired, and a feeling of sadness sank into my veins out of nowhere. I looked around the dark landscape and all at once wished I were at home, curled up, scrolling through the TwisterLvr feed like I usually do before bed. “Maybe this whole thing is stupid and neither of us should be here. Maybe I was wrong.”

  “We need to be here,” Tess whispered. “You need to be here, not for Colette, but for me. I think you’re right about her making the videos Thursday night. I think you’re right that figuring out what dares she might have done might help us find her. You’re still going to help me, right?” Tess asked, her face close to mine so she could see me in the dark.

  I couldn’t not help my sister, no matter how frightening the situation was. And honestly, I couldn’t not help Colette either. What if she was inside?

  “Yeah.” I sighed.

  “Good,” Tess said, nudging me with her shoulder.

  I made a little sound that meant Stop touching me. We stopped in front of the house, looking up at the porch.

  “I wonder if she’s home.” My eyes rose to the darkened main-floor windows, then to the second floor. “And I wonder what she does with all that space. It’s huge.”

  Are you in there? I asked Colette with my mind. Should we call the police? But . . . the Sea Witch was at the police station, so obviously they’re already onto her. But what if they aren’t, and you’re trapped?

  I was so confused.

  “We need to go up and look in the windows,” I said, feeling seasick without even being on a boat.

  “Are you serious?” Tess asked. We were gripping each other’s arms so tightly that my hand was starting to fall asleep, but I didn’t care.

  “We have to at least check to see . . .” See what? I didn’t know.

  “Ohmygod,” Tess chattered nervously. “Actually, maybe you’re right: this might be the dumbest thing we’ve ever done. I seriously can’t think of anything dumber right now. This is all Colette’s fault. If she’s not in trouble, I’m going to kill her.”

  A single porch light was on, hanging right above a big planter with a dead tree in it. The massive porch had nothing on it but a swing with no cushion; it was made of what looked like splintery wood.

  “I don’t see any clues, do you?” Tess whispered.

  “No,” I whispered back. “But I can’t see much from down here. Maybe there’s something in the planter. That’s the only place to hide anything.”

  “I’m scared.”

  She would have been more scared had she known about the warning.

  “It’s only five steps,” I said, picking up the bravery that Tess had somehow dropped. “We can do it.” I pulled my arm from Tess’s. “But I can’t walk up steps linked like that.” I shook my hand a little to get the feeling back. Then I shook it a lot when the pins and needles came.

  I looked up at the windows again: they were all still dark.

  “I don’t think she’s home,” I said. “Let’s look quick and get out of here.” I took a deep breath and ran up the steps, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  “Ohmygod,” Tess said behind me, then she climbed up, too.

  I went straight to the planter and my heart leaped into my throat when I imagined a piece of taffy nestled inside the twisty branches of the dead tree. I jumped.

  “What?” Tess whisper-shouted. She was right behind me, and I really hoped she wasn’t considering touching my shoulders. “Why did you jump?”

  “I was excited! I thought I saw taffy in the planter. I thought Colette left it.”

  “Huh?” Tess whispered. “That’s weird! Let’s get out of here!”

  “I’m just going to look to make sure . . . ,” I said, peering into the dead branches one more time, to make sure I’d really imagined it. Suddenly there was a face in the long window next to the door, staring at me.

  I screamed, then Tess saw her and screamed, and we both raced down the stairs. Like I was being pulled toward the ocean, I started running across the field-size lawn toward the bike path until Tess yelled that we had to get our bikes. Before I rounded the corner toward our bikes, I glanced back at the window.

  The face was gone.

  chapter 16

  Fact: Most tornadoes happen in the late afternoon.

  IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock—past typical tornado time and, honestly, past our bedtime—when Tess and I walked into the Sand Piper Diner, which was open until midnight on the weekends. I’d never been there that late before. Usually we went on special occasions, like when someone got a good grade on a test—well, when Tess did. I always ordered pumpkin pancakes with blueberries inside.

  In the mornings, the patrons are usually regular families, tourist families, or nice older people (meaning not the Sea Witch). That night, there were three packs of rowdy high schoolers in the far corner and a few men who looked like logging truckers scattered around—plus an older couple who seemed to be fighting.

  Colette smirked at us from the MISSING CHILD poster taped to the wall near the cash register. I’d been in line behind her to have my school picture taken that day.

  “Here, Frankie, you can use my brush,” she’d said after running it through her bright red hair, making it as shiny as her lip gloss.

  “Um, no,” I’d said, frowning at the brush, thinking of lice and dandruff and other people’s skin cells. Catching myself, I’d added, “I mean, no thank you.”

  Colette had looked hurt anyway.

  “Can I use it?” Mia had asked from behind me. “I’m sure it won’t make my hair look as good as yours . . .”

  They’d smiled at each other, Colette with her freckle-face and Mia with her dimples, and I’d told myself inside that I was wrong for not being the kind of girl who wants to share brushes and lip gloss with her friends.

  “It’s late,” I told Tess now. I looked away from Colette, feeling bad again. One of the high school boys was staring at us. “Maybe we should go home.”

  “We will,” Tess said. “But let’s eat first.” She looked at me like Mom looks at me, like food will solve all my problems.

  “I’m not hungry,” I snapped . . . probably because I was hungry. Tess ignored me.

  “Sit anywhere you like, girls,” the waitress said, passing by the hostess stand with a tray full of food.

  “Come on,” Tess said, walking toward the booth farthest away from the high schoolers. I followed Tess with my head down, shoulders forward, a frown on my face.

  The waitress came over once she’d dropped off the food she’d been carrying, offering us menus.

  “We’ll have Tater Tots with ranch and two Cokes, please,” Tess said.

  “You got it,” the waitress said, and she spun around and disappeared. I mean, she didn’t literally vanish; she just walked into
the kitchen. You’re supposed to use metaphors when you tell stories: I don’t know why, but people like them better than plain language. Whatever.

  I swung my feet under the table and accidentally kicked Tess.

  “Ouch,” she said. “Will you please keep your feet on your side?”

  I rolled my eyes at her but concentrated on not kicking her as I kept swinging my feet.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Tess whispered, leaning in. “Why are you in a bad mood all of a sudden?”

  “I’m not!” I snapped. I was mad about being scared. I was mad that Colette’s poster had reminded me of the type of girl I wanted to be—but wasn’t. I was mad that we hadn’t remembered anything about dare-or-scare. I was mad about Colette being missing and maybe hurt or dead. And, honestly, I was probably hungry. “I’m fine,” I added.

  “Fine?” Tess asked.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you, but don’t freak out.”

  “Tell me what?” Tess asked, looking freaked out already.

  “I ran into the Sea Witch at the police station earlier and she told me that kids who run around without their parents might get hurt,” I blurted out.

  Tess stared at me with big eyes. “She said they might get hurt?”

  I nodded, thinking back. “Or maybe that you never know what will happen to them. Whatever, it was creepy. And she grabbed my wrist.”

  “Did she hurt you? Do you have a bruise?” Tess asked, looking down at my wrist.

  “No, but . . .” Had the Sea Witch grabbed me hard, or just touched me? “That’s not the point. The point is that Colette is probably in that crazy lady’s house right now!”

  The waitress brought the Cokes and Tess thanked her automatically. By the time I said a weak thank-you, she was too far away to hear.

  “Maybe . . . ,” Tess said about the possibility of Colette being at the Sea Witch’s house. She looked confused as she took a sip of Coke. “Maybe we should call the police.”