Twisted (#1 Deathwind Trilogy)

The trip back to the park cycles between numbness and terror. Sometimes I run, tripping on every fallen branch that I’ve left. Most of the time, I’m too out of breath to do more than drag myself closer to the park. I must have traveled four or five miles through the woods during my transformation. I don’t know. Which subdivision was that?

  I had to have dreamt that. There’s no way I could have turned into—

  Birds explode out of the leaves and scatter, horrified that I'm coming back through. Did I kill anybody? I only tore up one yard, so I probably didn’t, but that tree and the way it jabbed into someone’s back door like that—

  I should go back and check.

  But I can’t.

  I grab a stick lying on the ground and throw it. It snaps against a tree trunk, breaking in two. "I didn't want your stupid gift!"

  The river flows through the woods, lazy and oblivious. The dead tree lies over it like an ancient guardian, snarling at me for my crimes. I look away and focus on the water instead, plodding across and watching it splash up to my knees.

  I kick at it, watching the spray sail towards a cluster of fallen tree branches.

  Those two freaks in the barn turned me into this.

  Brought me into their "family."

  I slog onto land and stagger through beaten underbrush. The sky's clearer now save for some wispy clouds and an airplane far overhead. The storm's floating away. It's a giant, swollen jellyfish turning pink from the sun growing low on the horizon.

  Sweat beads at my temples and my eyes are full by time I break through the underbrush and step onto the lawn of the park. An hour must have passed. Maybe two. The sun's hot and unforgiving, the sky clear. My shirt sticks to my back and an army of thorns have lodged into my clothes. My ankle yells out in pain whenever I step on it wrong.

  The park's a mess.

  Tables lay overturned in the pavilion where it all began. A swing set sits on its side, leaving pits in the grass. Red and blue lights turn on police cars, casting the second pavilion in a sad light show. Plates lie on the ground. Food’s everywhere. The cooler's wide open, its contents long melted. People stand around. The crowd's dotted with police. Nicole speaks with an officer, arms wrapped so tight around her chest that they might as well be a straitjacket. Her sisters flank her. Dianna's still with her friends, of course, holding up a phone and watching a video on it. They gather around tighter, blocking my view. A white van's parked in the dirt lot, and the logo on the side tells me that it's the local news station.

  My knees wobble, threatening to give out.

  I did this to them. Freaked them all out. Ruined this for Nicole. Worried my friends to death. If they’re even still alive, that is…

  My heart leaps into my throat. I can’t see my friends anywhere in the crowd. There’s police officers and a couple of firefighters milling around. I suck in a deep breath, trying not to freak out completely. “Tommy! Bethany!”

  "Allie!"

  I jump and whirl around. My parents rush towards me, pumping their legs with relief.

  Relief that I'm not injured or dead.

  Mom reaches me first, hugging me so tight that there's no escaping her perfume. I hug her back, glad she’s there, glad that Dad’s patting me on the back. I must have gone missing for at least a couple of hours. They probably thought I was dead. I worried them to death, too.

  Mom kisses me on the forehead. Normally I’d be embarrassed, especially in front of Dianna, but right now I don’t care. “Allie, where were you?” she asks. “Are you OK? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “I’m fine.” We hug again. People crowd around and watch our happy reunion, including, to my horror, a guy from the news van with a camera. Dad tells him he’ll talk later, that he wants to get me home first. Nicole checks us often, asking if I'm okay, if my parents are OK, if we need anything.

  No. I'm not OK.

  I just turned into a raging tornado in front of my friends and carved a path of destruction through the woods and right into someone's back yard.

  And worse, people could be hurt or even dead. It could be Tommy and Bethany. They were right there when I transformed. Tommy tried to grab me. Oh, God. Where is he? I’ve got to find out.

  "I’m so glad you’re safe,” Mom says every time she takes a break from hugging. "You've had enough in the past two weeks. You’re ungrounded."

  “Thank you.” It comes out automatic.

  "We should have let you keep your phone," Dad says, stepping leg to leg on the grass. It's flat from his fidgeting. "That way you could have called us when you were--"

  "Wandering through the woods," I fill in for him. My throat tightens and I swallow, determined not to break down until I reach the privacy of my room. "I still don't remember what happened. Tables fell over and I ran, then I think I got lost in the trees and--"

  "It's over now," Mom says, patting me on the back. We separate again. She manages a tight smile. "You panicked, Allie. You just had a normal reaction after what happened on your…trip. Anyone would have."

  "You had some rotten luck." Dad fishes in his pocket for his keys. "Two tornadoes in less than two weeks. Let's get you home, Allie. I don't think you want to hang around these reporters."

  "Thanks." I look around. My heart’s pounding. “I have to tell you something. Tommy and Bethany came here to see me. I don’t know where they are.”

  Dad smiles. “I saw them not too long ago. They were near the water fountain. I’ll tell you, they looked pretty scared. You might want to call them as soon as we get in the car.”

  I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. They’re okay. Well, physically. But they saw…Tommy saw me…

  The walk to the car is long. The park stretches from a lawn to a football field. Someone applauds as we go past. It's too loud in my ear, like they're clapping for something other than my safe return.

  "I don't feel good." I clap my hand over my mouth and run the rest of the way to the van.

  Nothing comes up, but I gag anyway, leaning over the dirt and gravel so long that I memorize the colors of the pebbles drying in the sun. Off-red. Speckled gray. Muddy blue.

  "Allie, are you okay?" Dad has his hand on my back. It's probably been there a minute already.

  "Yes." I straighten up to get in the car. "I'm--"

  Bethany and Tommy stand on the other side of the parking lot next to Bethany's old Park Avenue. They stiffen under my gaze. Bethany makes a reach for the car door. Tommy remains still, mouth hanging open.

  They know what I am.

  What I can do.

  An icy fist squeezes me, pushing the air from my lungs. I turn and get in the car, blinking away tears and hunching down in my seat like I'm a murderer getting taken to the courthouse.

  "Let's go."

  My parents climb into the car and we’re off. I don’t dare look up until we’re miles from the park.

  The world's so fragile.

  The buildings of my hometown are card houses, waiting for the next strong wind to bring them down. The Williams Town Dollar Store windows are fine china, ready to shatter. The trees, toothpicks. People eat inside Robin's Ice Cream Shoppe, escaping the heat of the day. They're dollhouse people, only alive until the next angry child breaks them.

  I say nothing on the way home. Mom and Dad talk about the freak storm, but they keep the radio off. I tune them out. Tears form, but they never spill. I keep my face pressed against the window, wanting to turn into the glass so no one can see me.

  Gravel crunches and we pull into the driveway. Home.

  I'm out of the car and in the entryway as soon as Dad unlocks the door. The drone of the television greets me. My parents never leave it on when we're not home. Not practical, Dad always says. They must have rushed out of here when they heard the news.

  "Go lie down." Mom pats me on the back and nods to the hallway. "You need it."

  "You have
my phone?" The words come automatic. “You know…before I forget it.”

  "Sure." She goes to the kitchen and returns with my phone in hand. "Here you go. You're never leaving home without it again." Mom places it in my palm and closes her hand over mine. She's shaking.

  "Agreed. And thanks." My legs quake and my feet turn into anvils. I can't breathe. Mom lets go and I rush into the living room to find something, anything to distract my thoughts. If I think about what--

  I stop.

  The TV lights the whole room up in blue and the local news guy talks in a low voice inside its frame. I can't make out what he's saying, but it doesn't matter. The screen switches to another image, a ghost of Dianna's open house. A roar sounds from the TV like a giant's blowing into the speaker. People bolt out from the pavilion and the phone camera sweeps towards the sky. The top of a pavilion trembles in the corner along with a swing set. Whoever holds the phone struggles to keep it straight.

  A narrow tornado twists away from the pavilion, cutting its way through the trees. Debris shoots up and sails through the air around the gray of the funnel, a gray that's the exact same shade as my T-shirt.

  I'm in my room and slamming the door a few seconds later.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, back against the door, staring ahead into darkness. Somewhere Mom tells Dad to turn off the TV, that I don't want to see that. I wonder if they're relieved that my fascination has turned to horror.

  I want to call Tommy. Bethany, even. But then I think of the way they stared at me back at the park. I can’t call them now.

  I need Uncle Cassius. He’s the only one who went on that trip with me.

  My phone lies dead in my hand. It's down to two bars when I power it up. I'm a klutz with the tiny buttons as I dial his number.

  The phone rings on the other end. Once. Twice. Three times, and so on.

  Uncle Cassius never answers.

  I dial again. Nothing.

  Again.

  Nothing.

  He never forgets his phone.

  I scream and throw the phone onto my bed. It bounces like a pebble on a lake and lands smashed up against the pillow. Turning, I let my forehead drop to the wall.

  Everything inside me growls.

  The noise rushes up through my being, eating everything in its path. I draw back from the wall, dive onto my bed, and throw the pillow over my head until it stops.