Twisted (#1 Deathwind Trilogy)

Tommy’s more awake on the rest of the drive than I’ve seen him in days.

  We follow Uncle Cassius through expanses of Iowa fields, through a few interchanges, and across the Wisconsin state line.

  Tommy and I talk about stupid stuff all the way back. What teachers we might get for our Junior year and which ones suck. The new Queens of the Stone Age playlist loops three times in Tommy’s player before we get tired of it and turn it off. The radio cuts in with dumb ads that we make fun of.

  Not once does he mention tornadoes or anything that took place back in Nebraska. We don’t even talk about Uncle Cassius. Tommy never asks about the conversation. It’s like he’s trying to give me a mini vacation from the crap and I love it.

  It’s awesome. It feels good to leave it all behind, even if it’s only for a little while. Once I spot the sign that tells us we have thirty miles before we reach Williams Town, I realize.

  I love Tommy. I couldn’t have gone through this without him.

  “Uh, oh,” he says once we come up on the exit sign for Williams Town. “We’re going to see what your uncle did. We have to go through downtown.”

  Oh. That.

  So much for avoiding anything tornado-related for the rest of the day.

  Uncle Cassius slows way down ahead of us like he’s just remembered. Tommy hits the brakes to avoid hitting him. Our cars crawl up the off ramp.

  And then, downtown.

  Plywood shutters up half the windows on the stores. A blue tarp covers the roof of Robin's Ice Cream Shoppe, which I can no longer see inside since it’s so boarded up. A couple more stores have caution tape over their open doors and people move around inside, cleaning up. A couple of trees are still down in a yard nearby, one barely missing a house that also has a tarp on its roof. Other trees have been chopped to pieces by chainsaws already. Branches and leaves wait on the side of the road in front of every house on the street.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  It’s nothing compared to what happened in Evansburg.

  Nothing.

  The buildings here are at least still standing.

  “Whoa,” Tommy says, slowing down to gawk at the damage. “I've never seen--”

  “This is minor,” I say, rolling down the window. “Well, it isn't but it is.”

  “Oh.” His voice drops. “I get what you mean.”

  This looked horrifying in the paper a few days ago. Now it doesn't even bother me. Ahead, Uncle Cassius doesn't even speed up to avoid the sights. He must be numb to it by now. I am, too.

  The trail of fallen trees and damaged rooftops go almost all the way back to Uncle Cassius's house. His house has no signs of damage. No missing shingles. No fallen trees.

  Dorian's right that Outbreakers' homes are immune to storm damage. I just wonder how long it’s going to take people to notice.

  Uncle Cassius shows no signs of distress when he gets out of the car. The look on his face is calm. Resigned. It looks too much like the one Dorian’s mom had after we destroyed that barn.

  He’s given up. Accepted his fate.

  “There’s got to be a way out of this.” I walk around the hood of Tommy’s car, stretching my limbs, arching my back. “This isn’t right.”

  “I know it isn’t. Hand me your phone.”

  I do, even though I’m not sure if I can ever really trust him again. “It’s probably close to dead by now.” I link hands with Tommy while we watch him punch buttons on the touch screen. We exchange glances.

  At last, Uncle Cassius hands me back my phone. “I’ve added a weather alert app. It’ll go off whenever there’s a storm watch or warning anywhere in the area. You can also check the radar at any time. Tommy should add the same one to his phone. I’ll add it to mine, too. And charge your phone as soon as you get home.”

  “Thanks.” I shrivel inside.

  He’s saying that I have to live like this.

  And he’s probably right.

  I take the phone. I can’t argue. Not in the face of what’s coming if Madeline fails.

  “Can you take her home?” Uncle Cassius says to Tommy.

  I ignore his question. “How are you sure everything’s going to turn out all right?”

  His face clouds. “Go home and get some rest, Allie. Don’t think about anything that’s happened in the last week. It should be a few days before we have storms again. And I’ll keep working on a way to keep us safe from hurting anyone here. Don’t worry about it.”

  “That makes me feel better,” I say, even though it doesn’t. I can’t not think about Evansburg now. And what Dorian and I left there. And the fact that Uncle Cassius sided with Madeline before he sided with me and that worse, Madeline might be right.

  It’s all there every time I blink. Every time I close my eyes.

  The drive home seems to take forever. We pass so many fallen trees on Uncle Cassius’s street that I can’t count them all. Chainsaws scream from somewhere else in town. A couple of guys push wheelbarrows full of branches towards the curb. Tommy keeps his hand linked with mine.

  I tell him about the conversation Uncle Cassius and I had. “Do you think that sounds like he was telling the truth about the Deathwind?” I ask.

  He squeezes tighter. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”

  “I don’t know what’s worse. My uncle betraying me for something that’s not true or Madeline being right.”

  “I agree. They’re both pretty sucky things. But we’re not giving up, Allie. Even if everything’s crap right now.”

  “Tommy, thanks again. Thanks for everything.” I look at him. “Not everything sucks.”

  “No problem.” He smiles at me, but fatigue lines his face. I must look the same. “Remember, I don’t care what time it is. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I suppose I should get my butt in gear and get my license. And a car,” I say. “I blew all my cash on that trip. Now I need to get a job.”

  “Don’t worry about that now.”

  “I think I have a lot to worry about.”

  We endure almost an hour of questions from my parents. I can tell they’re not happy with my leaving, but they’re not furious, either, probably because Uncle Cassius assured them that I was all right during the past week. Mom’s face has a few new wrinkles that I’m shocked I don’t share. Dad’s got a lot of coffee mugs sitting near the sink. My leaving has stressed them out.

  But I have to lie again. Just one more time. I feel awful about doing it, but there’s no other choice. They’ll never accept the truth.

  We tell them that I left town when that storm rolled in because I’m still traumatized from what happened during the vacation. That part’s true, but not for the reason that my parents think.

  “Allie, do you think you need to, you know, go and see a psychologist to get over your fear?” Dad asks when Tommy goes to the bathroom. “I understand why you did what you did. I’m sorry that we were so hard on you.”

  “It’s okay.” No, it’s not. I can’t tell him. I can’t tell either one of them. “I think I have it all figured out now. I’ll manage.” I pray this is the truth.

  Tommy pretends to leave at nine, then comes back through my window when the lights go out. We talk until almost midnight and play with the weather app, which buzzes everything from marine warnings on Lake Michigan to high pollen alerts right to my phone. “I can sleep easier with this, at least. The noise will wake me up,” I say.

  “And with this.” Tommy pulls me closer to the window and we embrace, our lips brushing and caressing.