“Ow!” she said.
I reached to take her hand so we wouldn’t get separated again. “Is that really necessary?” she griped, trying to pull away.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” I replied, crushing her fingers.
“God! Fine! Just loosen it up, would you?”
I did. But only slightly.
Matching our steps, we cut diagonally across the wet grass of the park and headed down the hill toward our house. I could hear the surf rolling into the shore up ahead and started to relax. We were almost there. Almost safe.
Then, somewhere deep inside the fog, someone laughed.
Darcy and I both froze. She squeezed my hand so hard I felt a pop.
“Did you hear that?” she said.
“Yes,” I breathed.
It came again. Another laugh. A low, menacing sort of chuckle. “Darcy?” I whispered hoarsely.
“Run,” she ordered.
We turned and tore off down the street, tripping off the unseen edge of the sidewalk and stumbling across the wide road. The fog tugged at my hair as I ran, pulling it from my cheeks and leaving its warm, moist trail along my skin. My toe hit the opposite curb, and I flew forward, going weightless, but Darcy stopped my fall with a stiff yank on my arm.
“The gate is up here!” she whispered.
We whirled around and screamed as we ran headfirst into someone’s chest. A strong hand clamped around my upper arm. I was about to start begging for our lives when I recognized the evergreen scent of my dad’s shower gel.
“Girls! Get inside! Now!” my father demanded.
I felt like my heart was going to burst. Darcy clung to my side, and we staggered through the open gate, up the steps, and into our house. The bright lights stung my eyes after the darkness of the street, and it took me a second to focus. My father slammed the door behind us, and I lunged to double lock it.
“What were you thinking?” my father fumed, whirling on us. “You leave the house without telling me? Stay out past midnight? What do you think this is, some kind of vacation?”
Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you expect us to do? Stay locked up in here all the time?”
“Yes!” he screamed, shaking as his face turned fuchsia. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do! We don’t know anyone in this town. You two could have been hurt! Or killed!”
“But we weren’t!” Darcy pointed out angrily. “We’re fine!”
But my dad didn’t seem to hear her. “From now on, you two are grounded. No leaving the house at night. And during the day you’re to tell me exactly where you’re going and who you’re going with. No discussions.”
He turned and started to stomp up the stairs.
“But, Dad,” Darcy whined.
“Don’t talk back to me!” he roared. “It’s for your own safety.”
Darcy’s eyes flashed. “When was the last time you asked me where I was going at night? When I was coming home after school? Who my friends were? Who my boyfriend was?” she ranted, tears spilling over onto her dark red cheeks. “You never ask me anything! You never listen to anything I say! And now all of a sudden you want to tell me what to do, who I can see, where I can go? No! No way! You can’t just suddenly decide to be a father again after five years of complete silence!”
She shoved past him and barreled up the stairs.
“Darcy!” he shouted after her.
“No!” she screamed back. And then her door slammed.
I stood against the wall, staring at our family photo on the table with blurry eyes, trying to catch my breath. Darcy had talked back to my father before, but never like that. She’d never screamed at him. Never laid out all his faults. And now here we were, the two of us, standing amid the destruction of her nuclear bomb.