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“To help your dad unload the truck.” I start to shut the door when anger waves over me and, I add, “And to get away from your stupid asses.”
As I slam the door, a cluster of lightning bolts illuminate across the sky, bright enough to burn my eyes and make my heart jump.
“Wow,” Gabe mutters from near the back end of the truck with his head angled up toward the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Me neither,” I divulge truthfully.
I may have spent years setting off crazy lightning storms, floods, and windstorms, but never have I seen anything quite like what just occurred in the stormy grey sky. Makes me wonder how upset I truly am at the moment.
Makes me worry what sort of disasters I might set off the longer I’m around Foster and Easton.
Chapter 8
I help Gabe unload the truck to the best of my ability, but eventually, Foster and Easton get out and take over. It takes us a while to get everything unloaded, and Easton and Foster start to complain about how slow I’m moving, as if all this is my fault. Technically, I guess it is, considering they’re only here because of my parents’ will. Still, it’s annoying. They’re annoying. This entire situation is annoying.
By the time we’re finished and climbing back into the truck, I’m bursting with annoyance and the sky is more than reacting, raining hail down upon the earth.
“Man, this is some shitty weather,” Gabe remarks after we all hop into the truck. He turns on the engine then flips the wipers on. “We’re lucky we’re done.”
Foster nods in agreement as he fastens his seatbelt. “What do you think’s causing it?”
I find his question somewhat strange, unless he’s some sort of science person and is asking his dad to literally explain what causes hailstorms.
His dad shrugs, worry creasing his face as he peers up the sky. “I’m sure it’s just a … cold front or something.”
Okay, so he did mean it in the literal sense.
A bit of relief washes over me. I’m not even sure why. It’s not like any of them could possibly know about my ability.
“Yeah, I guess it is December, isn’t it?” Foster mutters, seeming perplexed.
What a weirdo. He acts as if hail in December is some rare occurrence when it’s not. Not really anyway. At least not when I’m around.
“We should stop by Nelly’s on our way home,” Easton suggests as Gabe steers the truck forward and out onto the road. “We haven’t seen her in forever, and I need to talk to her about some stuff.”
“You can text her then,” Gabe says, his gaze fleetingly straying toward me before returning to the road. “We really just need to get home.”
“Texting is so overrated.” Easton groans dramatically. “And I’d rather not have every goddamn thing I say recorded into the system.” He flops back in the seat. “Some conversations are private, for fuck’s sake.”
System? Wait … Is he one of those people who believe the government is secretly spying on us through technology?
“Watch what you say,” Gabe warns, giving Easton a pressing look.
Easton rolls his eyes. “Fine, Pops, I’ll chill for now. But eventually, you’re going to have to let us be us or shit’s going to get complicated.”
Gabe rubs his lips together, clutching the steering wheel. “I know.”
The cab grows quiet after that, tension lacing the air.
I’m not really sure what to make of their cryptic conversation … If it has anything to do with me or not.
Just exactly who are the Everettsons? That’s quickly becoming the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
Well, that and a hundred other things.
Chapter 9
No one says much for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reach the Everettsons’ house, the hail has toned down a bit. Of course, the moment Gabe pulls up in front of the massive, three-story home, my pulse quickens with anxiety and the sky ignites in response.
