The Storm King(98)

He imagined Tom upstairs, spraying and wiping and drying and fretting. Every few minutes a wail sounded from upstairs, lonely like the cry of a bird that was the last of its species.

Finally, the sounds ceased. When Owen was sure Tom had left, he took a lantern and reopened the boat launch. Nate never allowed them to take a light out on the water, but this was a special situation.

The lake returns what it takes. If Lucy had drowned, then maybe her body had floated to the surface. If Owen found her and hid her, he might be able to keep Tom from getting into trouble. It would be a secret just between the two of them. It’d be a bond unbreakable through the summer and all the way through college. It was the kind of thing that would tie them together for the rest of their lives. If he kept Tom’s secret, Tom would help with the Thunder Runs. Nate would be gone, but Owen, Johnny, and Tom would be stronger than ever. Maybe they’d even be strong enough to get back at his mother in the way he really wanted to. Something that would hurt her for real. Something that would hurt her forever.



As he unlocked the boat launch, Owen felt truly happy for the first time in ages. Then the skirt of his lantern’s light bounced off the lake’s dark waters and illuminated the stiletto eyes of a soaked girl clinging to one of the pilings.

“I’m going to destroy him,” Lucy said. “I don’t care who his dad is.” Her voice was hoarse and as flat as ice.

“Oh my God, Lucy!” Owen tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. So much for his friends. So much for the things he wanted. They slipped through his hands like water.

The launch creaked under his feet as he descended to help her out of the water. She sat on the launch shivering with cold and rage.

“I’m going to make him wish he was dead.”

Owen listened to Lucy’s expletive-laced summary of events. He’d already guessed at the generalities, and the details didn’t much interest him. He nodded and gasped appropriately, but mostly he was wondering what to do next. He tried to think like Nate. He tried to imagine being the kind of person who knew exactly what he wanted and stopped at nothing to get it.

“First we’ll call 911. The doctors will check me out and have everything on the record. The police will ask me for a statement, and I’ll tell them everything. He hates himself so much he’ll probably confess, the weak little shit.”

Alarms sounded in Owen’s head. If they did what Lucy said, it would pull them all apart, not bring them back together. “Nate wouldn’t want us to turn on each other.”

“Nate wouldn’t want his best friend to nearly murder his girlfriend, either.” Her clothes were soaked. The silky green thing she’d had on at the party was gone, and her white top was almost transparent.



“It must have been an accident. A misunderstanding.”

Her body was slight but leanly muscled. He’d seen it before in more revealing circumstances than this, but never so close.

“Tom almost killed me. You think Nate’s going to shrug that off?”

Owen tried to imagine a world in which Nate and Tom weren’t best friends, and he didn’t at all like the look of it.

“He’d want us to get along, to figure it out together.”

She squinted at him. “He’d want revenge. That’s why he burned down Adam Decker’s house and started this whole thing. He burned it down because of me. I made him who he is, just like he made me. We created each other, and that’s why he’ll side with me no matter what.”

Owen’s head spun. He’d never been as quick as Nate or Lucy. They spoke in full paragraphs and recited doctrines of their own convoluted design, and it was usually all Owen could do to nod and pretend he kept up. But something Lucy said was wrong. It wedged itself into the gears of his brain until they could turn no further.

“You fell in love with Nate for burning down Adam’s house?” Owen asked.

“That’s what made us. All of us. Don’t you remember? That’s what made him the Storm King.”

“But that was me,” Owen said. “I’m the one who poured gas on the Deckers’ house and lit it.”

“I didn’t—I mean—yeah, okay, you lit it. But the reason you were there was because of Nate. He’s the reason for everything.”

“But I’m the one who got your revenge on Adam Decker. It was me.”

Lucy frowned at him for a moment. Her glare softened into blankness, and then she burst into laughter.

“Oh, Owen! You think I should have been with you this whole time? Instead of Nate?”



An image, unbidden but well-treasured, came to Owen of Lucy writhing in the dawn light of the dance floor. He felt himself flush. He spoke slowly, trying not to stutter. “I’m just saying that everyone thinks Nate has to be at the center of everything, but he doesn’t.”

“Jesus. Me and the Porker.” Lucy’s laugh glittered like a blade. “I mean, seriously?”

Owen shot a hand out to grab her wrist. It was a reflex, like a reptile’s tongue plucking an insect out of the air.

“Don’t call me that.”

Her hand was a spindle in the meat of his palm.

“Watch yourself.” Anger boiled across Lucy’s face. She was a terrifying creature, but Owen saw the appeal. He witnessed it firsthand at least twice a week, bucking across the dance floor planks. She was like a challenge. A crucible. If you could have her, you could get anything.