The Storm King Read online

  Someone was handing out pills, and Tom gobbled three or maybe four on his way to the keg. He never did this. Was four too many? Must have been, because everyone around him gasped. They were either blue or yellow.

  Maybe it was the pills or the pot, or the strange sensations of beginnings and endings that collided inside him, but for Tom the next hours passed like a series of slides oversaturated with sound and color.

  He talked to Sarah Carlisle. He stood near Lindsay Stone. Tom was conscious of Johnny and Owen together, as they often were. One moment they were by the keg and the next they were on the periphery, watching the people at the center of the glade and talking about what, Tom could not imagine.

  He, Nate, and Johnny had been as one for nearly their whole lives. But fault lines had formed between them over the past year and a half. Lucy and Owen’s additions had changed things, and the ever-shifting hierarchies of high school had pulled others into various ranks within their circle. The three of them were still best friends, but some best friends were better than others. Would Johnny miss him next year? Would Nate really meet up with him a few times a week once they were in the city? Tom didn’t know. The constants in his universe were about to become variables.

  Like the cars of a racing train as it begins to slow, Tom’s syncopated senses gradually blurred back into a stream of linear experience. He was standing on a stump at the edge of the clearing and his arms were out as if he’d been giving a speech, and indeed he seemed to have the full attention of the three underclassmen girls who stared up at him.

  He jumped to the ground, just managing to stick the landing. His shoes were gone. Winston Chu, wearing an eye patch for some reason, thrust a bottle at Tom’s chest. He dutifully took a chug before passing it back. It tasted like sunscreen.

  The fire was bigger than it had been.

  Put it out, Tom almost cried. They’ll see it. They’ll know. Then he remembered he wasn’t in the Night Ship. This was the other world he lived in, the one with simpler secrets.

  Nate sometimes called Tom the Creature of Catastrophic Futures. He was so worried about the ramifications of the present that it was as if he didn’t live there at all. The Storm King had tried to teach Tom about the thrill of the moment. But for Tom this always came with a hangover of regret.

  And no matter how he pretended otherwise, Tom knew that Nate was in no way a native of the Now. Tom could tell this from the look in his friend’s eyes when he drifted.

  But Tom tried his best to appreciate the treasures of the present as he absorbed the sights, sounds, and smells of the clearing. He watched his class, his friends, writhe and jump and laugh. For a few moments he stood outside of the current they were all caught in. It’s never going to be like this again. And Tom didn’t know if this made him happy or sad, grateful or wistful. It was so many things.

  There were three kegs, and bottles of whiskey, vodka, and some flavored liquors being passed around. Pot was smoked along the periphery, and every few minutes a group of three or four would return from the woods pawing at their noses. The substances and their combinations addled them in movement and voices and dance, as though each dwelled within their own pocket universes governed by different laws of physics.

  Of course, Nate was at the center of the dancing tangle. In the crowd he seemed to give off a light that rivaled the bonfire. His shirt was off, and most of the other guys had followed his example.

  Lucy was in Nate’s arms, and they were the gravity well around which the others orbited. Whether they were a sun or a black hole depended on the day. Today, Tom thought they might be something else. A neutron star of irresistible luminescence.

  Girls ran their painted fingers across Nate’s back as he twirled Lucy past them. Michelle Duchannes and Sarah Hernandez cut in for a moment to sandwich Nate between them. Grinding up against him, Michelle was unable to stop herself from touching his chest.

  “There you are!” Emma appeared out of the crowd and threw her arm around Tom’s neck. She kissed him wetly on the lips. “Let’s dance.”

  “I don’t really—”

  She grabbed his arm and yanked him closer to the center of the gathering.

  “Aren’t you hot in that?” she asked. She ran her hands over his flanks.

  Tom realized he’d sweated through his shirt. Emma pulled at its hem, and it was so wet it took them both to peel it off.

  “I’m hot, too. You know what? I don’t even care.” She tugged her top over her toned stomach.

  “Are you sure you really—”

  She whipped off her tank top to reveal a lacy black bra. She twirled the shirt above her head as if she were a cowboy. When a bunch of baseball players from the class below them whooped from the sidelines, she chucked it at them.

  Tom wrapped his arms around the small of her back and drew Emma to him. Her mouth tasted of cinnamon. It was okay, Tom realized. Dancing with beautiful Emma Aoki, next to a bonfire, half-naked in the forest on a summer night with people he’d loved his whole life. It wasn’t bad at all.

  “Buddy!” Nate cried, and wrapped him in a sweaty hug. “Where’ve you been? Are you having an okay time?” He peered at Tom with grave intensity, as if this was the most important question in the world.

  There was an uncertainty in Nate’s balance and a wayward energy in his eyes. The pills and who knows what else had been making the rounds.

  “Shots!” Nate shouted. “We haven’t even had a drink together yet.” He called for whiskey, and bottles traveled toward them across a sea of waving arms.

  “I think you’ve drunk enough, McHale,” Lucy said, materializing between them. Her smile was less smug than it had been.

  “I have to have a drink with Tom.”

  “Let’s take it easy, huh? I’ll get you some water.”

  Nate laughed at this. The Storm King did as he wanted.

  “What happened to your shirt?” he asked Emma.

  “I threw it away!” she said. Everyone within earshot ranked this among the funniest things they’d ever heard. Everyone except Lucy.

  Nate handed Tom and Emma bottles that had come their way.

  “He’s had too much,” Lucy told Tom.

  Too much.

  Too much booze or drugs? Too much misery or joy? Nate himself was too much. That was why he was so fiercely loved.

  “He needs to slow down,” Lucy said.

  Tom stared at her. Was she asking him to help manage Nate? Was his friend really in that rough a state? If so, Tom must have been even worse off, because he couldn’t do anything but laugh at her. Snorted at her like she was a dim child who’d managed to say something so stupid that it exceeded all previous standards of idiocy.

  Lucy’s eyes hardened to emeralds.

  While he, Nate, and Emma clinked the necks of one another’s bottles, Tom watched Lucy storm into the crowd.

  It was clear Nate had no idea that Lucy had stalked off. Nate said something to Emma, and they both laughed. The three of them took another pull from their bottles and jumped to the music and were so happy. They were all so happy.

  This is what life is.

  The tides of the night swept Nate and Emma away, and Tom found himself near Johnny and Owen.

  “Holy shit, Tommy,” Johnny said when he saw him. He’d stripped to the waist, but Owen was still fully clothed. Owen gleamed with sweat, but he never took off his shirt.

  “You guys having a good time?” Tom asked. Or that’s what he tried to say. His tongue and lips disputed the order of syllables.

  “Park it, dude,” Johnny said. “I’ll get you some water.”

  Tom collapsed into the grass and stared through the frame of trees that held the ball of sky. Sparks from the bonfire blazed and faded against the swirl of the galaxy. It was strange, Tom thought, how we are so small and yet so bright.

  “The Thunder Runs don’t have to end,” Owen said.

  Tom realized that the big guy had lain next to him. When Tom looked at him, the lenses of Owen’s glasses danced wi
th reflected flames.

  “Nate said that himself,” Owen said. “Back at school it sounded like you were up for getting Kritzler for Johnny. Are you still?”

  “No.”

  Tom was surprised at how easily this answer had come. The Creature of Catastrophic Futures would have equivocated. He would have worried and waffled and hedged. But Tom resolved to do what he wanted for once. Maybe he didn’t have to always worry about what other people thought. Maybe he was allowed to be selfish.

  Maybe this was the true gift of the Storm King.

  It was a few moments before Owen tried again. “Johnny said he won’t do it without you. He’s really pissed about everything, you know. He’s mad at Nate, too, even if he won’t say it. He’s sort of abandoning us here.”

  “You realize some people manage to be friends without committing felonies,” Tom said. “Nate’s not abandoning anyone, and neither am I.”

  “It’s not fair,” Owen said. “People still need to be punished, just like Nate always says. That hasn’t changed.”

  “But we have. We’ve changed.” Tom stretched his hands to the universe as clouds began to clot the ether.

  “If you think about it,” Owen said, “we usually went after people Lucy had it out for. Or Nate. What about the rest of us? Aren’t we allowed to get revenge, too?”

  Nate had put together numerous Thunder Runs for Tom and Johnny. They’d hit Owen’s mom on at least three separate occasions. Besides, Tom didn’t want revenge on anyone. At this moment, everything in his life resonated in perfect harmony.

  Johnny returned with a bottle of water and handed it to Tom. Tom thanked him, but Johnny had already fixed a scowl on the elated multitudes.

  Tom wished he could grant Johnny a measure of his own joy. He didn’t want his friend feeling so low on such a great night.

  “Sorry you’re upset, Johnny,” he said.

  “I feel better already.”

  “I told Tom we were thinking about keeping up the Thunder Runs,” Owen said.

  “I’m positive Lucy convinced Nate to go after Lindsay instead of Kritzler,” Johnny said. “She’s been pulling the strings behind the Thunder Runs the whole time. She may as well be keeping him on a leash. You know she’s the reason he’s ducking out in the first place.”

  “Get back at Kritzler if you want, but it isn’t going to make you feel better,” Tom said. This was the new Tom: a creature who said what he thought and felt not a moment of trepidation about it. “Your dad’s your problem.” This had always been the case. No matter who Johnny was mad at, it was always his dad.

  “And what am I supposed to do about that, Tommy?” Johnny’s voice was loaded with anger, but this bounced off Tom like rain off a leaf. “Especially now that I’ll probably be stuck here with him forever.” He jumped to his feet and headed for the tree line.

  Something had happened, Tom realized. Something had happened and he didn’t care. Something had happened and he didn’t care and this felt good.

  “Just think about it,” Owen told Tom before following Johnny to the edge of the glade.

  Tom lay back down on the grass. The bass from the music beat through the ground like the pulse of the earth itself. He searched for the stars, but clouds had taken them away.

  After a while—he did not know how long—he sat up again.

  The party was still going, but the crowds had thinned. There were fewer people dancing than there’d been. The center group had scattered into smaller cliques along the edges of the bonfire. The music had quieted slightly, its rhythm slowed.

  Tom stood, and this was harder than he’d expected. He made his way to everyone else carefully, as if his feet were not quite his own.

  He found Nate drinking beer near one of the kegs with Parker Lang and some of the other guys. His face lit up when he saw Tom.

  “I thought you’d left!” He tapped the keg with his foot. “It’s pretty much kicked, but I might be able to get some out.”

  Tom waved his hand. He’d drunk enough.

  “I think Johnny and Owen took off,” Nate said. “Not sure anyone else here can drive, either. We might have to hoof it back.”

  “Okay.” From the way the world tilted, Tom realized that going home was actually an excellent idea.

  “Emma was looking for you. Haven’t seen Lucy for a while, either,” Nate continued. “She wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

  It seemed like a very long time ago, but Tom remembered Lucy being angry about something. He remembered her stalking away, but Nate was right: She wouldn’t have left without telling him.

  The fire had burned down enough to let shadows take root within the glade. Some of the Chinese lanterns had fallen, and it was hard to pull figures from the darkness thick along the perimeter of trees.

  That’s when he saw it. And every day that followed, he tortured himself by wondering how different things might be if he hadn’t.

  Just as stray underclassmen snuck into the graduation celebration, it wasn’t unusual for older kids to make an appearance as well. A party was a party, no matter whose it was. It was among a pocket of these college kids that Tom saw Lucy.

  He squinted to make sure. He shaded his eyes from the glare of the bonfire. Even in the feeble light, her jade kimono wrap was unmistakable.

  Tom tuned himself to the activities of the college group, and heard a peal of laughter tear across the glade. Lucy had been hoisted into the air by one of the men. He held her above his head like a figure skater might lift his partner.

  If only he’d managed to restrain his reaction in that moment, Tom thought. If he had, maybe Nate wouldn’t have turned to follow his gaze to the fringe of trees.

  “Nate!” Tom rapped on his friend’s back, hoping to distract him. The Creature of Catastrophic Futures had returned, and ahead of him every string of fate screamed of doom, doom, doom.

  The man with Lucy in his arms was Adam Decker. His blond hair was freshly cropped, and his shoulders were astoundingly wide.

  Tom couldn’t imagine what Lucy thought she was doing. Why was she with the one person who was guaranteed to make Nate flip his switch? Why did she have to ruin everything?

  “Nate.” He tugged at Nate’s elbow. “Nate.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and he later hated himself for that, too.

  Tom watched Nate’s face go slack at the sight of Lucy with Adam.

  “Adam’s saying hello. And Lucy’s just being polite.” Tom darted between Nate and the scene unfolding at the edge of the clearing. Another squeal of delighted giggling came from Lucy. “I’ll tell her it’s time to go. That’ll give her the out she needs.”

  Nate’s eyes faded to some middle distance.

  Come back. Please, come back.

  Tom put his hands on Nate’s chest and found it dripping wet. It had begun to rain again. It was a downpour.

  Nate shoved Tom aside and began to make his way toward Adam Decker. Nate was strong and tall, but fresh off a season of Division I lacrosse, Adam Decker was like something made in a lab. He saw Nate coming and returned Lucy daintily to her feet. He prepared to meet Nate with a glowing smile and comic book biceps.

  He came here for Nate, Tom realized. After a year and a half, the blond giant had returned to teach Nate the lesson he’d failed to impart in that chemistry lab. This was a patient predator, one from whom no forgetfulness could be hoped or leniency begged. Tom could imagine Adam choosing this place and time so that he was at his best while Nate, after hours of partying, was at his weakest. Adam wanted to give Nate more than a beating: He wanted to humiliate him in front of everyone. And Lucy had given him exactly the chance he’d been hoping for.

  Lucy looked from Nate to Tom, and Tom couldn’t read the expression on her face. Was she happy to have Nate fight for her? Was she pleased that he’d left Tom’s side to rush to hers? Was she trying to prod Nate into being more attentive, or demonstrate to Tom who Nate most valued? There was a lesson here, but for whom was it intended?

&nbs
p; The scent of blood was in the air. Something was ending. Tom felt it, and so did everyone else.

  The masses coalesced on the pair as they braced for collision. Nate was the Boy Who Fell, and his fight against Adam was immortalized in the saga the town along the shore told of itself. Front-row seats to its sequel were first come, first served.

  When Nate tripped on his way to meet him, the hulking athlete’s grin widened. Tom understood that his friend was headed to slaughter. Nate had somehow gotten far ahead, but if Tom hurried, he could still save him. He could throw himself between the combatants. He’d get hurt, but he didn’t care.

  But people were in his way. They’d poured from the woods and were closing in from the edges of the clearing. Tom ran, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  “Move!” he yelled, but no one paid attention.

  There was a flurry of movement ahead, and the crowd gasped as one.

  Tom knocked people aside to see. He shoved them and elbowed them and pulled them apart. He imagined Nate already on the ground in the mud, staring hopelessly at the sledges of Adam’s fists. Blood running with the rain down his face.

  A scream built in Tom’s throat.

  He slipped in the mud, and tore through the forest of legs ahead of him.

  The crowd recoiled at something Tom couldn’t see. An animal desperation threatened to swallow him whole.

  I can save you.

  He clawed his way past the last people who separated him from his friend. Nate was somehow still standing, though wildly unsteady. He shuffled from foot to foot as if the ground beneath him bucked like a wild creature.

  Tom gained an unobstructed view just in time to see Adam throw a hook at Nate. Somehow Nate managed to avoid it by leaning backward. This looked like sheer luck to Tom. His friend was so muddled that he barely kept his balance. Adam tried an uppercut, but the same thing happened.

  How had he missed?

  Adam began to look uncertain, and Tom realized that the crowd hadn’t been reacting to the hits Nate had taken, but the ones he’d somehow dodged.

  Nate staggered in a semicircle, and Tom saw his face for the first time. He no longer looked drunk at all. His lips were curled between smirk and snarl, and his eyes glittered like the lake at dawn.