The Odds of Lightning Read online

  By the time Nathaniel got there, the guys were already in the den playing Golf on the Playstation, drinking Will’s dad’s Bud Lights, and texting the girls to come over.

  “SATs!” they shouted every time they swung.

  Nathaniel stood in the doorway and looked from the TV to the guys to Will.

  Will didn’t want to be taken on a guilt trip.

  “Dude.” He smiled, knowing Nathaniel wouldn’t argue. “Early study break?”

  * * *

  There were so many things Nathaniel should have been doing instead. He should have been studying. He should have been sleeping. He should have been relaxing and letting his brain rest the night before the biggest test of his life, as his parents had advised him to do. The voice in his head was telling him to go home. But he couldn’t go home. Now that he was no longer working toward the Anders Almquist Earth Science Scholarship, Nathaniel didn’t know where he was supposed to go anymore.

  * * *

  The first flash of lightning lit up the sky outside Tiny’s window. Her mind filled with images she couldn’t control and couldn’t stop: the churning black water of the East River, the shimmer of heat lightning above the skyline, the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass.

  The memory of her first kiss and everything that came after.

  All she wanted was to forget. But lightning would always make her remember.

  * * *

  Come over if you dare. Lu picked up her cell phone and speed-dialed Tiny’s number. Whatever—there was no one home to stop her.

  * * *

  Will took the six-pack and cracked open a beer. He tossed one across the room to Nathaniel.

  * * *

  Nathaniel looked at the blue can in his hand and then back at Will. He thought about the books in his backpack on the floor by the foot of the stairs.

  * * *

  Tiny’s phone rang in the bedroom. Without another thought, she pulled the curtain closed and went to get it.

  * * *

  It’s not like my mom would even notice if I tanked, Lu thought.

  * * *

  “Here’s to tonight!” Will boomed, raising his can. “Carpe fucking diem!”

  * * *

  “Here, here!” Nathaniel heard himself shout.

  * * *

  There comes a time in your life, Tiny realized as she answered the phone, when you just have to say—

  * * *

  At a certain point, Lu thought as she heard Tiny pick up—

  * * *

  “Because sometimes,” Will said to the group, “everyone knows you gotta just—”

  * * *

  “What the hell?” Nathaniel said, taking a sip.

  “Fuck it.”

  THEN

  THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER BEFORE HIGH SCHOOL

  THREE YEARS AGO

  8:00 A.M.

  CUMULONIMBUS CLOUDS

  Tiny

  There were some things you just couldn’t put into words.

  “Tell me again how you got your nickname,” Luella said through a mouthful of Lego candy.

  It was the last day of summer, and Tiny and Luella were sitting outside the Guggenheim Museum, contemplating their futures. They wore shorts and flip-flops and tank tops, and still felt overdressed. It was the hottest day of the year by far, and the entire city was engulfed in a sticky, thick, edible humidity. The heat was a tangible, visible, moving thing, rising up off the sidewalk as if it were alive.

  Tiny just hoped they could get everything on their Last Day of Summer Itinerary done before the skies opened up on them. It was eight in the morning. They had the whole day in front of them, and there was a lot they still had to accomplish. Traditions were important. They gave your life purpose and structure and meaning. When the world got crazy and nothing felt permanent anymore, they helped tether you to the ground. They helped you remember who you were.

  Tiny felt like she’d hardly seen Luella at all this summer, which is why today’s traditions were extra important.

  Tiny and Luella—Tlu, as they called themselves often, or Talulah when they didn’t feel like abbreviating, or Tine or Tine-O or Loozles when they referred to each other individually—met at eight in the morning on the first and last day of every summer. They walked through Central Park to the Guggenheim, by far the coolest building in New York, and sat on the wall out front, watching the tourists. Luella would eat candy. Tiny would eat normal breakfast foods. It was always the same. It was comforting. Some things between you and your best friend should never have to change.

  Other traditions on the last day of summer were:

  Meeting Will and Nathaniel for a picnic lunch at the Alice in Wonderland statue by the boat basin.

  Getting gelato that night, and everyone had to pick the weirdest flavor possible.

  Doing one thing you’ve never done before.

  The last one was Tiny’s favorite. She looked forward to it every summer. She made lists throughout the year, saved up all of her firsts for that one special day, to keep the tradition intact.

  “Tell me again how you can eat candy for breakfast?”

  “It’s just one of my many lovable quirks.” Luella grinned. Her teeth were pink with melted candy. “Now tell me.”

  “You know how I got my nickname,” Tiny said.

  “Yes, but it’s hot and I’m bored and I want you to tell me.”

  Tiny put her notebook down.

  “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Emma. She lived in New York City, the biggest, craziest, best city in the world. She wanted nothing more than to grow up into a strong, well-respected cultural icon. But one day, she angered a vengeful troll. And so he cursed her. With tininess. In perpetuity.” She picked her pen up and started writing again.

  “Hm,” said Luella. “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “I took some storytelling liberties.”

  “Good job, Sister Grimm.” Luella squirmed, trying to see over her shoulder. “What are you writing?”

  “A poem.”

  “What’s it about?”

  Tiny flipped the notebook closed. “I can’t tell you.” It was a love poem, kind of. Luella would make so much fun of her if she found out.

  * * *

  As always, the real story of how Tiny got her nickname was less epic than the fairy tale she’d made up about it.

  It all started when Tiny was little, in nursery school, or maybe kindergarten. Nathaniel had made up a game called Science Club. The four of them—Tiny, Nathaniel, Lu, and Will—used to huddle over Nathaniel’s kitchen table after school, pouring different ingredients into glass jars and documenting the results.

  Salt + Water = Salty Water

  Vinegar + Baking Soda = Frothy Bubbles

  That was back when Tiny went by the name Emma. Because that was the name her parents had given her, and no one had ever called her anything different. Even at five, Luella was always the dramatic one, and Nathaniel was the smart one, and Will was the funny one. Emma was just . . . Emma. The quiet one.

  Until the day everything changed.

  It was the day Tobias walked into the kitchen, carrying a robotic hand made of balsa wood. Four years older, Tobias was the real scientist. He won the science fair every year and always had the coolest project in the class. He had curly dark-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a T-shirt with Han Solo and Chewbacca drawn in the style of Calvin and Hobbes.

  “Greetings, earthlings,” Tobias said. He pulled a rubber band at the base of the hand, and the fingers contracted in a wave. “Nathaniel. William. Luella.” Luella snickered. Tobias stopped on Tiny. The hand reached over and patted her on the head. “Tiny,” he said. She was at least two feet shorter than he was.

  “Am not,” Tiny said.

  “Are too.”

  Tiny felt her cheeks turn pink.

  “Am. Not.”

  Tobias laughed. “Bye, Tiny!”

  “Shut up, Tobias!” Nathaniel called after him.

 
But it was too late. Her head wasn’t the only thing Tobias had held in his robotic hand. He had plucked her from obscurity. He had noticed something special about her—even something as dumb and insignificant as not growing as fast as the others—and he had shone a light on her.

  He was now holding her heart, too.

  * * *

  “Are you going to submit it to the lit mag?” Luella was still trying to read the poem over Tiny’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know. Probably not.” Tiny blinked. It was amazing how much of your life could be defined by one singular memory. Ever since that day, she had been Tiny.

  “You totally should. How cool would it be to write this amazing poem and have everyone know it’s yours?”

  “This one’s private. The only way I’d submit this is if I did it anonymously.”

  “If you say so,” said Luella. “I love being the center of attention. I’d want all that glory.” Luella smiled to herself and hummed under her breath.

  “Luella,” Tiny said. “What’s up with you today? You are acting like you do when you have a secret.”

  “I don’t have a secret,” Luella said, and kept humming.

  “Uh, yes, you totally do!”

  “Do not.” Luella stuffed a piece of candy into her mouth and crunched down audibly.

  “Okay, weirdo.” Tiny nudged her with her elbow. “You always hum when you have a secret.” They sat in silence for a minute or two. Well, silence, except for Luella’s crunching and the sound of heat thunder rumbling in the distance.

  “Hey,” Tiny said, swinging her feet out. “How are you and your mom doing? With the move-out and everything?”

  “Fine,” Luella said absently.

  “Fine?”

  “Just trying not to think about it.”

  “Oh,” Tiny said. “Yeah. Okay.” She struggled to think of something else to say. Luella was clearly done with the subject. “So, I have an idea about tonight. It combines two of our traditions: meeting up for gelato, and the thing I’ve never done before.”

  “Oooh.” That got Luella’s attention. “Tell me.”

  “Well, okay. Tobias leaves for Boston tomorrow and has to get some final data to submit with his interdisciplinary course proposal for EAPS. Something about climate change and cities and electrical energy. Nathaniel asked if we wanted to go with him to the Brooklyn Bridge and watch. It’ll be very Benjamin Franklin.”

  Luella looked skeptical.

  “Yeah, okay. Maybe.”

  “Luella! You mean no, don’t you?”

  “I mean maybe. But, Tiny, here’s the thing. We start high school tomorrow. Tobias is going to college. Isn’t it time to get over him? Put him behind you and start the year fresh?”

  Tiny frowned. “I’m fine. I don’t need to put him behind me.”

  Luella grabbed the notebook. “What’s this? I see his name! In your di-a-ry.” Tiny grabbed the notebook back.

  “It’s not a diary. It’s a poetry journal.”

  “Whatever. Well, then maybe just bite the bullet and tell him you like him already and want to have ten thousand of his little genius babies.” Luella bit down on a piece of candy. Hard. It broke in half.

  “Er. Maybe,” Tiny said, meaning no. But Luella was getting excited.

  “Yes! That’s the thing you’ve never done before! I’ll go tonight if you do that!”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Then my answer is still maybe.”

  Tiny eyed her. “Why are you being so mysterious? Do you have other big plans tonight that you’re not telling me about?”

  “No.”

  “Is that why you’re acting all weird?”

  “No.”

  “Because we have to check off all of our traditions! If we don’t, life will have no meaning!”

  Luella snorted. “I thought I was supposed to be the drama queen.”

  “Luella, pleeease. It’s the last night of summer. Tomorrow is high school. It’s not going to be like this forever. Tonight is, like, pivotal. I need you! Promise!”

  “God, Tiny, yeah, I promise.”

  Maybe Tiny would tell him tonight. Maybe it was her last chance before he went away to college and she started high school and everything in her life changed.

  Luella

  Luella walked back across the park, thinking about what Tiny said. Tomorrow is high school. It’s not going to be like this forever.

  If you took away traditions, did life really have no meaning? Were things supposed to stay the same, always? Was she supposed to want them to? Tiny clearly did, but Luella wasn’t so sure. She was excited about making way for the new. She was ready to let go of some things from the past.

  Suddenly, the way one memory will sometimes flash at you while you’re trying to remember something else, a scene from finals week popped into Luella’s head.

  She and Tiny had been sitting cross-legged in the fifth-floor hallway, their backs up against the lockers, working through some geometry study sheets.

  “I don’t get this,” Tiny muttered, frustrated.

  “Oh, hey,” Luella said. “So, my dad is leaving.”

  Tiny didn’t look up. “Where’s he going?” she asked, erasing something and then blowing away the eraser shavings. “Somewhere on business? Anywhere cool? You should get him to take you.”

  “Actually,” Luella said, “he’s just leaving.” Tiny stopped scribbling and looked at Luella. Luella nibbled on her lip but didn’t look up from her homework. “He’s leaving us.”

  “Like, moving out?” Tiny said quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh my god, Luella.” She put her arm around Luella’s skinny shoulders, but Luella pulled away.

  “No, whatever, it’s cool,” she said. “It’s fine. He’s probably taking all the dude stuff, so Mom and I are, like, excited to redecorate, and—”

  “Luella,” Tiny interrupted. “How could it be cool?”

  “It just is,” Luella said, looking past Tiny’s shoulder down the hall, as if someone more interesting were walking up.

  “Luella, how can it be? Your dad’s leaving. It’s, like, anything but!”

  “Tiny,” Luella said sharply, suddenly, turning back and focusing her green eyes on Tiny. “It just is.”

  “But—”

  “Because if it weren’t, things would be so, so, so the opposite of cool. So it has to be cool. Okay? It has to be.” Tiny was looking at her like she wanted to say more, so Luella cut her off before she could. “Geometry is so fucked up,” she said. “How is this going to be remotely useful in my life? Why don’t they teach us anything useful here! What about some real-life skills for a change!” She threw her notebook across the hall, where it slammed into the row of lockers, and a few people turned to look at the noise. Then Luella got up, picked up the notebook, shoved it into her backpack, and stalked off down the hall without saying good-bye.

  * * *

  Luella didn’t know why she was thinking about it now, as she walked back across the park on this last day of summer. A lot had already been changing this summer for Luella. Things had been happening that she didn’t tell Tiny about. It’s not that she didn’t trust her best friend. It’s more that she didn’t know how to put them into words. Tiny was a words person. She valued strong communications skills.

  Luella was not especially strong at communicating. Or so her mother told her all the time.

  She’d lied to Tiny. She did have a secret.

  She kept it inside of her for now.

  It had started like this.

  Back at the beginning of the summer, Luella had been standing outside the Kaye Playhouse at Hunter College trying to get cell reception on her phone after her summer acting class, when some boys in glasses walked past her.

  “Keebler?” She looked up, then immediately kicked herself for responding to that stupid nickname. Will had peeled off from the group and was walking toward her, grinning.

  “Hey, Will.”

  “I knew
that name would catch on,” he said. “How could it not?”

  “Beats me,” said Luella. “It’s so flattering and complimentary.”

  “Whatcha doing? Are you done pretending to be someone else for the day?”

  “Hmm? Oh yeah. Acting class just finished. I gotta go somewhere and memorize these.” She held up a stack of pages. “I’m auditioning for the summer play.”

  “What play?”

  “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. You know it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  Will shuffled his feet.

  “Do you, like, play the cat?”

  Luella squinted at him. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  There was a pause that lasted a few seconds too long. Will pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  “Hey,” he said. “I have some homework and stuff too. Want to join forces and do our work together? I know somewhere quiet.”

  Luella didn’t say anything right away. She and Will had been friends since they were kids, but they usually hung out in a group with Tiny and Nathaniel. They had never hung out one-on-one before. Will blinked, waiting for an answer.

  “Look, if you don’t—I mean, if you’re busy, it’s—”

  “Okay,” Luella said. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her bag.

  “Really?” Will beamed.

  “You don’t have to throw a parade or anything. It’s just homework.”

  “Surly,” Will said, then turned and began walking. Luella stepped out into the glaring sun and walked quickly to catch up to him. She held her arm in front of her eyes.

  “Here.” Will handed her a pair of knockoff Ray-Ban Wayfarers.

  “Did you get these at Rachel’s Rockin’ Eighties Bat Mitzvah?” Luella said dubiously, looking at the writing on the sides.

  “You should know,” Will said. “You were there, remember? Look, is the sun in your eyes or what? Just put them on, you vampire.”

  Luella put them on. “They’re huge on me.”

  “They’re fine.”