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o;He wasn’t alone.”
It took her a minute to piece it together. “They dumped you in the quarry, too?”
Chris didn’t say anything for a moment, then turned to look at her. He banished the emotion from his voice, and now he gave her half a smile. “You don’t think you’re the only person I’ve ever dragged out of the water, do you?”
“Did they know? About your ... powers?”
He shook his head. “They learned real quick.” Some of them had still been in the water—making sure he and Michael didn’t escape, probably. But Chris remembered drawing power from the water, dragging their attackers to the center of the quarry, begging his element to pull them under and steal their breath.
The power had been terrifying. Addictive.
Michael had stopped him.
Chris ran a hand through his hair, pushing the damp strands off his face. “Mom and Dad had been willing to deal. They’d put up with a lot. But after those guys threw us in the quarry, after they tried to kill us, Mom decided to go talk to the others. She brought us with her. Dad didn’t want her to go, but she got her way. I don’t think she meant to start a fight—I think she wanted to remind them that we were just kids, you know? She just wanted to work it out. They didn’t.”
It was getting tough to keep his voice level. He stopped talking, picking at the upholstery again.
Becca swallowed. “So what happ—”
“I’m cold.”
His tone must have startled her. But he couldn’t help it—and she nodded anyway. “Okay.”
“Let’s go inside.”
With that, he didn’t glance at her, just threw open the door and stepped into the brisk night air.
CHAPTER 16
Becca followed Chris into the house, keeping her footsteps light. Michael was asleep on the living room sofa, the television throwing flashes of red and blue across his face and tee shirt. One arm hung off the side of the sofa, resting on that beat-up spiral notebook.
Becca hung close to Chris, afraid to breathe, worried about waking his brother.
Chris wasn’t. “Hey. Mike. Wake up. I’m home.”
Michael stirred, running a hand across his face before sitting up to face the doorway. He rubbed at his eyes, then stopped short when he saw her. “And you brought a friend.”
He said it in the same voice her mother had used when Becca was seven and took to “rescuing” stray cats in the neighborhood—by luring them into the house and attempting to hide them in her closet.
“Be nice,” said Chris.
Becca shoved her hands into the pockets of the pullover. “I’m not staying long.”
“Why are you staying at all?”
Chris gave a disgusted sigh and turned away from the doorway. “Ignore him. Come on.”
“Why are you all wet?” Michael called.
Chris didn’t answer, just started up the steps. Becca followed him—only hesitating for a moment. “Does he hate me or something?”
The upstairs hallway was a well of silence, their footsteps muffled by carpeting. “It’s not personal. He’s a dick to every girl who comes around here.”
Bizarre. “Just girls?”
“Yeah.” Chris reached out and turned the knob to his bedroom. He didn’t elaborate, just pointed at the half-made bed. “Sit down. I’ll give you some sweats so we can throw your clothes in the dryer.”
She dropped onto the edge of the mattress. Chris pulled open some dresser drawers, rooting through them. A new bruise was forming on his jaw from where Seth had hit him. His tee shirt was still damp, clinging to the muscles across his back.
