The Hurricane Read Online Free PDF Page B

turbulent, rippling water:
    Plastic cups.
    ••••
    “Ten bucks.”
    Daniel handed the kid a twenty and took his change. The bill
he got back was soaking wet with what Daniel hoped to hell was pool water. He
wadded the tenner, shoved it in a pocket, and took his cup.
    Someone did a handstand on the keg while Daniel waited in an
amorphous blob of a line. Once they were done, several people squeezed through
from behind to get topped up, and Daniel realized he’d have to be a little more
assertive if he was going to get a drink. He pushed through and held his cup
out alongside a cluster of two others—plastic rims crinkling together—while
someone showered gold-colored beer in all three and across their knuckles.
    Daniel came away shaking foam off his hand. He wiped his
palm on his shorts, then realized how that smell was going to linger. He tried
to remember if he’d told his mom he wasn’t going to drink at all, or if he’d
said he was just going to have one. His brother was driving, he reminded
himself. He took a sip from the cup, foam tickling his nose, and wondered if
his brother had also promised not to drink.
    “Are you in line?”
    Somebody tapped Daniel on the shoulder. He spun around and
realized he was standing by the keg, sipping on his beer. A pack of thirsty
animals with empty cups were arranged behind him, all of them staring.
    “No, go ahead.”
    Someone mumbled “rando” loud enough to hear, and Daniel
wanted to point out that he wasn’t random at all. He’d been invited by someone
who’d been invited by someone.
    “Jeremy Stevens would’ve taken summer school if it weren’t
for my best friend,” he wanted to shout out.
    He shuffled out of the way and back into the house, dodging
elbows and potential spills as he went. The number of people in and around the
house seemed to have doubled since his first tour through. Daniel rose up on
his toes and looked for the distinctive dark curly head of his best friend,
wondering where they’d gotten to. He thought of asking people, but could
foresee the wrinkled faces and the confused “Who?” he’d likely get from most of
them. But hey, at least he had his accessory. His drink. He took another gulp,
waved his hand toward the far corner of the kitchen like he saw someone he
knew, then squeezed through the crowd in that direction.
    Daniel was rounding the center island when someone bumped
into him from behind, sending him and a splash of his beer into the girl ahead.
Daniel cursed and apologized, but his efforts were drowned out by the girl’s
startled screams. He reached to brush the foam off her back when she spun
around as fast as a tiger—and he smacked Amanda Hicks on the boob, instead.
    “What the fuck?” Amanda looked down at her accosted breast,
then twisted around like a snake as she tried to reach the back of her shirt.
“Was that beer? ”
    “I’m sorry,” Daniel said. He pulled his hand back before she
could bite it off.
    “I’m so fucked,” she said. She looked up at Daniel. “You’ve
totally fucked me.”
    Daniel wanted to point out that the most they’d done was
kiss, and just that one time.
    Amanda punched his shoulder and stormed off, the crowd
parting before her huffed rage like a running of the bulls that had been
soberly reconsidered.
    “Nuts,” Daniel said. He took a swig of his foamy, sorta-cold
beer and fought to look inconspicuous. The DJ went back to bass thuds; a plate
in the Stevens’s kitchen cabinet rattled to the beat.
    “Daniel?”
    A familiar and piercing voice squealed at him from behind.
Daniel turned and saw the last person he ever expected to see at the party. He
would’ve been less surprised to see the girl from the summer before—the second
person whose tongue he’d had in his mouth. Instead, he saw his sister, Zola.
    “What in the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Both of
them looked down at the red cup in her hand, and then at the one in his.
    “Don’t you tell mom,” she