Page 29 of Stony Point Summer
Right as a gust of wind blows with a loud clap of thunder, which gets them to separate.
* * *
“I better go,” Maris whispers.
And she doesn’t waste any time. Quickly, she hightails it to shore with Jason following behind. Her hands sweep through the water as she runs. Raindrops spit down from the angry sky; lightning flashes again and again.
“Maris!” Jason calls as he splashes through the shallows.
Maris, dripping wet, scoops up her towel from the sand. She glances back at him and gives a slight wave after picking up her flip-flops.
“Hang on,” Jason says, grabbing his shoes and keys before catching up to her. He’s out of breath, and glances up as a clap of thunder rumbles close. “Hangon! Where are you going?”
“To Eva’s,” Maris tells him. She tugs the strap of her halter top while backing away. “She’ll be worried.”
“But that’s a long walk.”
“I’ll be okay.” As she says it, Maris barely meets his eyes before turning toward the granite stairs to the road.
She doesn’t get far, though. As she starts across the sand, Jason grabs her arm. “You can’t be out in this weather. It’sdangerous! Come on,” he says, tugging her in the other direction, toward the parking lot. “I’ve got my truck. We’ll wait out the storm there.” As he says it, the skies open up. Sheets of rain drop from the heavy clouds.
And Maris digs in her heels.
But he looks back at her and tugs her arm again. “Let’s go!”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t.”
“What?”
Rivulets of water stream down her face now. “Back there,” she says, motioning to the water, “I didn’t mean—”
A flash of lightning is so close, they both jump. And run for cover toward Jason’s pickup truck. Clutching their wet towels and shoes, they bolt across the boardwalk, to the gravel parking lot, where Jason opens the passenger door.
“Hurry,hurry!” he yells as thunder roars above them.
As soon as she climbs in, he slams the door and flies around the truck to the driver’s side. But once he’s inside and his door’s closed? Silence. Other than the labored breathing from their panicked run, and from rainwater pelting the truck, there’s nothing. No words. No thrilled laughter that they outran the lightning slashing the sky. No sighs of relief that they’re safe.
Just silence.
Until Jason dabs his face with his wet towel, scrunches it on his dripping hair, then looks to Maris beside him. “At least we made it okay.”
Maris nods. Lightning flashes. And each rumble of thunder is louder than the next. Between the damp, humid air and the close quarters in the small, enclosed space, it must feel stuffy. Because suddenly, Maris is rolling down her window.
“Leave it closed!” Jason tells her.
“Why?”
“Just roll it up,” he says. When she does, he explains. “The glass is a good insulator, from the storm. And … and don’t touch anything, either. Anything metal, I mean. The door handle. Don’t evenleanon the door.” He almost has to yell over the drumming rain. “Metal conducts electricity. If lightning hits the truck, you’d be a goner.”
“Oh.” Maris sort of raises her hands, as though uncertain what to do with them. Finally, she folds her arms across her front and just sits straight in the middle of her seat. Rainwater and seawater drip from her still.
When a bolt of lightning strikes particularly close, Jason holds up a hand. “Shh. Let me count.One, two, three.” He looks out the window, still whispering the numbers until the thunder follows that lightning. Distant trees bow beneath the wind and rain. “Fifteen,” Jason eventually says, turning to Maris. “Which means the storm is practically on us. Three miles away.”
“How do you know?”
“My father told me. When he was fighting in ’Nam, in the jungle, he did this when it stormed. Said he’d take the number of seconds between a lightning flash and the thunder, then divide by five. So that lightning and thunder just now? They were fifteen seconds apart, and divided by five?”
“Three miles.”
