Page 30 of The Storm

“Is he being a jerk about this? Is he? Let me talk to him.” Bridge’s voice rings out from somewhere a bit farther away, and the phone clearly changes hands because a second later Bridge comes through loud and clear.

“Listen up, buddy,” she says, “you better get your ass out of bed right this second or?—”

There’s a shuffling and a clank and then a few beats of silence before it’s Dia again.

“We—Bridge and I—might be a bit stranded.”

I sit up with a yawn. “Might be?”

“Might be. Are. Same thing,” she says flippantly.

“What happened?” I ask.

“We went to Jacob’s parents’ lake house with some people, and Jake went to pee in the woods and lost his car keys. We’ve looked everywhere, so now we either stay here for the night or find a ride.”

“Sweet dreams,” I say, but I roll myself off the bed anyway.

“Don’t be an ass,” Bridge shouts into the phone. “Just find a damn car. I’m sleeeepy.”

I mutter under my breath while I pull on a pair of sweats and a Henley. I quietly open the door and make my way to India’s room.

“Where are the keys?” I ask when I can’t find them anywhere.

“Yeah,” Dia says, and her tone immediately puts me on alert. “About that…”

I stop my search and straighten my back. “Did you also go to pee and lose them?”

“No, I know where they are.”

I wait for her to point me in the right direction. She doesn’t.

“Well?” I eventually ask.

“They’re in my bag.”

It’s way too late for me to have any patience for a treasure hunt. “Where’s the bag?”

“Currently? Right here with me.”

I sigh and drag my hand through my hair. “Dia…”

“The car is in Annapolis parked on Bridge’s driveway. Not like the keys would be of any use to you.”

I lean my ass against her dresser. “Then how exactly do you figure I pick you up? Walk to Jacob’s and give you two a piggyback ride? I’ll see you in about fifteen hours.”

“We have more cars.” Dia says it like the solution is obvious.

“Where? Because Mom’s not back from New York yet, so her car is in the airport parking lot, and Dad’s car is in the shop.”

“Yes,” she says. “But…”

I go very still when the unspoken part catches up to me.

“No,” I say slowly. “No. Come on, Dia. No.”

“Pleeeease. Pretty, pretty please. You’re our only hope, and you know it. Ihaveto be at school tomorrow. I’ll get another detention if I skip again, and you know Mom said she and Dad won’t pay for the summer acting classes in LA if I get detention again.”

My shoulders slump, and I close my eyes. Maybe this is just a bad dream? I pinch myself just in case.