by Holly Hook
I busy myself gathering extra changes of clothes. Extra cash. Toothpaste and combs. I stuff it into my duffel bag, keeping busy, too busy to think about what I'm about to do. It's too dangerous for me to stay even overnight. Storms are still rolling through the area. I can’t take the risk.
Can I transform when I'm inside? Sleeping?
I don't want to find out the answer.
"There," I say, taking my time zipping up the bag. I toss it over my shoulder. It weighs no more than paper but pulls me down towards the floor, begging me to stay.
Tommy waits by the window, holding my pillows. He’s like a bodyguard, always there, always vigilant. If he’s freaking out with the approaching storm, he’s not showing it.
He pats his pockets. "If we slip out quiet, I can pull the car down to the corner. That way your parents won't see or hear us leaving."
"Okay. I’m hurrying.”
“You need any more help?”
I zip up the duffel bag. “Got everything. I’m good.”
Another rumble of thunder sounds, closer.
We've got to leave. Now.
My chest tightens so much that I can barely breathe.
My parents can't know why I'm gone. I have to deceive them again.
The outside lights up enough to tell me that this storm isn't going to miss. My heart leaps and my body tingles, ready for another transformation. Now I know how a werewolf must feel when the full moon rises.
Tommy pops out the screen. He's pale and he's not taking his gaze off me. "If we're going to get out of the storm's way--"
The time's now. I swallow down my own private storm, hike up the duffel bag, and follow Tommy out into the darkness.
His old Corolla’s waiting down the street, complete with its million gaming stickers on the back. The storm pulses like one of those deep-sea creatures that snare their prey in the depths with their pretty lights. It looms behind my house as we drive away. The car makes metallic plinks and plays the low, soothing sound of some radio commercial. My house, now dark except for the empty light I've left on in my room, looks tiny, like a shack ready to fall over in the coming storm.
If I stay, it could.
I'm leaving to protect my parents, not hurt them.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Tommy punches the gas and shoots down the street in the direction of town.
"Are you sure you're not too nervous to drive?" I toss the duffel bag in the back seat.
He licks his lips. "Got to."
Tommy's terrified of me.
He should be.
"Have you told your uncle about this?" he asks. It's obvious he's trying to change the subject, trying to avoid the same thoughts that I am. "I think he'd be easier to talk to about it than your parents. He at least went on the trip with you."
"Tried. He wouldn't pick up." Something in my gut gnaws at me. I want Tommy to swing past his house, to let me out so I can go talk to him.
Lightning flashes.
I roar inside. The swimmy feeling bubbles up inside, faint but there.
It's too late for that.
"Faster," I urge Tommy.
A few stray raindrops splatter and die on the windshield.
"We'll go for the expressway," he says, hitting the gas harder. His words quake and crack down the middle. The traffic light ahead blinks from green, to yellow, to red. Tommy looks both ways down the empty street and blows through.
I hug myself, making sure I'm still solid. The car's not going to keep the transformation away. It's flimsy, a box of aluminum foil.
We blaze past McDonald's, all lit up in the dark. The Marathon. A sign announcing that Williams Town is home of the three-times high school football champions. A burst of wind makes the sign tremble. It looks like the end of the world is bearing down on everything I know.
"Go!" I shout, unable to hold the panic back. The storm’s come up so fast, like it’s sensing me here and racing to meet me.
"There it is." The on ramp to the expressway appears over the crest of the hill. "Hold on," Tommy says, turning the wheel and clicking on his turn signal.
We merge on so fast that the force slams me into my door. The swimmy feeling intensifies, then fades, then strengthens again until I'm sure I'm breaking apart. We pass a semi and the wall of its trailer falls away into the night.
Thunder rumbles, farther away, softer. I snap back to the passenger seat of Tommy's car, the lightness gone on the other side of a blink. I rub my hands down my legs, taking in the feel of my jeans. I’m solid. Tommy doesn't notice. He keeps his gaze on the racing lines of the road ahead. He’s too afraid to look at me.
I breathe out.
A sob comes out with it.
"Allie!" Tommy faces me. “Are you okay?”
"Yes. We avoided it. Barely."
Lightning flashes behind us, forking orange and angry as if upset that I've missed my meeting.
