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The second that tone escaped her mouth, she regretted it.
Quinn started gathering her bags into her lap. “Wow, Bex, with an engraved invitation like that, it’ll be hard to give up my dream of sleeping on the park bench—”
“Ugh. Stop.” Becca scrunched her eyes shut and threw the car back into park. “I’m sorry. It’s been a crappy few days.”
“Yeah?” Quinn fumbled for the door handle and shoved the door open. “Funny how you haven’t mentioned anything crappy happening. I mean, maybe almost making out with New Kid was kind of—”
“Quinn! Shut up a second.” Becca stared at the steering wheel. The big silver H was the only shiny thing left on the vehicle. “I’m just under a lot of stress, okay?”
“Got it.” Quinn swung her legs out of the car. “Wouldn’t want to add any more with my problems.”
Damn it. “Quinn, wait—”
Her friend slammed the door.
Becca glared after her, debating whether to climb out of the car and chase her across the school parking lot. Hunter sure had nailed it: Quinn seems to like attention.
And who was Quinn to get all huffy? She was practically living with Becca lately. Becca’s mom was making an extra plate of dinner every night and routinely washed Quinn’s clothes. Becca figured she should count her lucky stars that she and Quinn didn’t wear the same size or her closet might be empty.
But half a mile down the road, she felt like a total bitch. She rolled to a stop at the turn to Old Mill Road. Should she go back for Quinn? Would her friend have time to catch the bus?
Becca fished her cell phone out of her purse. She kept her foot on the brake and started a new text.
A gust of wind hit the car hard enough to make it rock.
Becca grabbed the steering wheel. The intersection looked clear and still, but trees set back from the road were swaying in the sudden wind. Clouds seemed to be rolling in from the south.
She thought of the mysterious Guides. She’d never bothered to ask Chris how they’d come after her. Would it be some kind of Elemental attack?
Then she told herself to knock it off. It was September. Maryland got the remnants of every hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. It rained every other day all month. They always had a tornado drill the first week of school.
But maybe she should forget about texting Quinn and just get home. She shoved her phone into her pocket.
Wind buffeted her car as she pulled into the intersection. A few raindrops smacked her windshield. Then a lot more.
This wind was crazy. Her car didn’t want to stay on the road. She had a hard time holding the vehicle on the right side of the yellow lines.
Rain began to pour. An SUV swerved and honked as a strong blast of wind almost propelled her straight into oncoming traffic.
Becca screamed and yanked the wheel. The car fishtailed but leapt into the correct lane.
Slow down. Maybe she was going too fast. Her car was small, no match for this sudden storm.
Her foot pressed on the brake, but rain was coating the road now, and her car started to skid. The wind slammed her sideways.
Other cars were having trouble. Old Mill Road was turning into an obstacle course. She yanked the wheel again, hoping to straighten out. Should she stop? Keep going? Rain poured out of the sky to pound her windshield.
Didn’t Chris say water talked to him? Did he talk to it, too?
Please stop, she thought. Stop raining.
For a breath of time, she almost thought it worked. The rain whipping her car hesitated, a break in the noise like driving under an overpass in a storm.
Then a gust swept against her car, stronger rain beating the glass.
People bolted from the sidewalk, running for houses, for shops, for cover. Probably running from the swerving vehicles. Becca said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t end up on the sidewalk. She could see the creek ahead, usually a calm flow of water eight feet below the roadway bridge. But now the water was high, raging, passing only a few feet below the bottom of the bridge supports. That she could see water from a block away was terrifying.
Flash flood? Could that water swell over the bridge? She’d heard stories of people swept away in floodwater.
