Ill Wind Page 0,56

"I liked the way you looked," he said. "I saw you at the diner, when the lightning came for you. You could have run back inside. Why'd you get in the car?"

"You're kidding, right? There were all those-"

"People," he finished for me. "You didn't want to put them in danger. I told you. I liked the way you looked."

"In Oversight." He didn't confirm or deny. "I didn't see you in Oversight, and I was looking."

"We've had this conversation. You can't see me when I don't want you to." He flickered, suddenly, like a failing TV picture, blinking in and out in strobe patterns. I almost ran the SUV off the road. "Sorry. Just a demonstration."

"This morning at the motel-you didn't leave. You were just-" Hiding. I had another thought. "You watched me! You watched me change clothes!"

He closed his eyes and made himself comfortable. The smile on his face made me smack him on the shoulder. Hard.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" I said. He didn't move, just sat there, relaxed and limp, eyes still closed. "Right. As if Djinn nap."

"We do." He did sound tired. "And I'm going to."

"Whatever."

"Fine."

I fiddled with the radio and worried more about cops, and Marion, and cell phones, and the fact that this damn British boat was all too conspicuous. Of the three stations available, two were country and one was rap; I settled for rap. If David had an objection, he didn't wake up long enough to voice it.

We made it safely past the six intersections and one Dairy Queen that made up Eliza Springs, and hit a farm-to-market road that headed vaguely west. I notched the Land Rover up to a comfortable purring speed and frowned at the speedometer, which told me kilometers per hour instead of miles per hour. Close enough. I had bigger problems than a speeding ticket.

One of them snored lightly at my right elbow, all the way to the state line.

Chapter Fourteen

Something about the way David affected me-and he did affect me, no doubt about it-reminded me of my first date. As dates go, it wasn't supposed to be very adventurous; Mom drove me and Jimmy to the movies at the mall. She bought our tickets, Cokes, and popcorn, wished me a nice time, kissed my cheek, and strolled off to go shopping.

Jimmy was sweating. He was trying so hard to be a gentleman that he slapped my hand when I tried to open a door, which sort of went against the basic principles of gentlemanly behavior. I managed not to smack him back. We seated ourselves in the theater with snacks and drinks, sat stiffly next to each other, and prayed for the lights to go down so we wouldn't have to fumble through too much conversation. We exhausted the bad points of Mrs. Walker, the math teacher, and Mrs. Anthony, the English teacher, and Mr. Zapruzinski, the boy's gym coach who always smelled like old sweat and cigarettes, and there weren't any girl-boy subjects either of us felt competent to attempt.

We had just added the band teacher to our mutual-enemies list when the lights went down. Way down. Like, out. And outside, the storm that had been looming overhead and shaking its fist for three hours . . .

... let me have it. Oh, yeah. It was pissed off. Thunder roared so loudly, I thought we were already watching Star Wars. As I sat there in the dark with a bunch of shrieking preteens and a few panicked adults and my (literally) blind date Jimmy, I heard rain hammer the roof like a million stones from an angry mob. It was a riot storm. An assault storm. I knew, immediately, that things were bad and going to get worse.

Jimmy tried to kiss me. It was a panicked, sweaty attempt, and he missed and smacked his forehead into mine, and for a second I saw Star Wars warp effects to go with the roar, and then he corrected and got his lips on mine and-

Oh.

Well.

That wasn't so bad. He sat back quickly when the house lights flickered on again and looked triumphant. As well he should. I felt-curious. Warm all over, especially in the middle, as if I had started to melt.

"Maybe we should go," I said hesitantly to Jimmy. The theater was emptying out, parents herding kids like frightened sheep, a few teens slouching