Page 11 of The Snake in the Grass: The Prequel

The hair on my back stood up, skin prickling, as the first boom of thunder crashed through the hills and a bright blue streak of lightning coursed to the ground.

I lost his trail; for a moment, confused, I stood in the woods, calves splashed with mud, searching for him in the darkening shadows of the trees. Then I found him, not with my eyes but with my heart and my mind. I turned towards the only direction he could’ve gone.

A few steps forward through the darkness; shivers ran down my back as the sky grew dark and thick with trouble. Then I saw him, leaning up against the wide trunk of an oak tree, hands on his knees, thick dark hair plastered across his face. His sides heaved. He looked miserable.

As I got close, he glanced up, eyes rimmed red. I stared at him and felt like I was seeing a stranger for the first time.

For a moment, silence.

Then I dared to ask for answers I didn’t want to get. “What were they talking about back there?” Reaching out, I grabbed his sleeve, tugging at him like a child—only we weren’t children anymore. “I know something happened at Coleridge, but you keep lying about it.Tell me,Silas. Tell me what’s going on.”

He yanked out of my grip, standing up straight, mouth a thin line. Lightning struck. I looked up at him—I’d been lookingupat him for years at that point—and saw, again, our father.

I gasped. Took a step back. Shivered, from the rain or the cold or—something else, some other kind of fear, the kind I don’t want to admit to myself.

Silas snarled, “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t understandanything.”

“Why?” I cried back in response. “Why wouldn’t I understand?”

He was contemptuous. “We’re both sixteen, but you’re naive.Sheltered.You’ve never dealt with the real stuff. You avoid it, Brenna. You couldn’t even deal with a security guard catching you stealing fucking ponytail holders.” Another bolt of lightning, nearer this time; the cool white light of it turned Silas’s skin a stark, pale color, his dark hair dripping rivulets of water down his neck. “Face it, Sis, you and I are nothing alike. Just like Mom and Dad.”

“No, that’s not true.” I shook my head, reaching for him, and this time he didn’t back away as my hands closed over his arms, as I pulled him closer and tried to look into his eyes even as he avoided my gaze. “We’re the same, Silas. We’re going to get out of here together. I just need you to tell me what happened so I can understand.”

His mouth thinned; his arms flexed beneath my fingers. I felt like I was holding a wild animal, or a bolt of lightning itself. Already he was slipping away.

“Please,” I begged, “just tell me. It was... it was a mistake, wasn’t it? You didn’t mean to.”

He flinched. His nostrils flared. And he pulled away from me again—but this time his hands came up, palms spread wide, and he shoved me so hard I went flying back.

Mud slipped beneath my sneakers.

Thunder boomed in my ears.

I went down,hard.The thick oak roots that rose from the soft ground hit my back. Air whooshed out of my lungs in ahumph. Ears ringing, I curled up onto one side, briefly aware only of the pain and the sound of the storm.

I think Silas said something to me then.

I wish I remember what. I wish I’d been listening. Maybe if I’d heard him—maybe if I’deverheard him—I would have known him as he tried to know me.

He reached for me with a pale hand.

And I snarled in anger, rising to my feet and rushing towards him. I was barely aware that my hands were fists until my right connected with his side, knuckles hitting him hard enough that I felt it reverberate back to me.

The shock of the punch connecting woke me from a rage. I pulled back, staring at him in horror, an apology already dropping from my lips. But it was drowned out by the sound of the storm descending on us in full force, thick with fury. I don’t think he heard it, but even if he had, he wasn’t listening.

All that was left in his grey eyes wasnothing. No fury, no rage, no confusion or fear. The lightning dissipated, leaving behind darkness. He turned from me, a silhouette in the dim light overhead, trudging through the mud towards a destination only he could find in the chaos waging war around us.

I stood there for a while, alone and confused, lost in more ways than one. Then I heard the sound of an engine idling, and turned to see Wally sitting in his pickup truck on the side of the road.

That whole time we’d been fifty yards away from salvation, but we hadn’t seen it through the darkness.

“Brenna!” He leaned over to prop open the passenger side door, heedless of the rain slanting in. “Get in. It’s about to get worse.”

“Wait a sec.”

I looked around for Silas but didn’t see him.

In that moment I heard my father’s words echoing in my head:good riddance. I thought—he’s a grown man, just like he says. He knows where he’s going. He has his Eagle Scout badge.

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