“What?”
Thia flew into high gear, peeling her scrubs off so fast she nearly tripped and shoving them into her locker. “I’m late.” It was a sixteen-minute drive from the hospital to the job that actually paid her, a part-time gig shelving returns at Topeka’s biggest library. And her shift started in fifteen.
Swearing again, she slammed her locker door and shouldered her backpack.
“Bye,” Riley called pointedly when she hastened for the door without further comment.
She flipped him off over her shoulder and was rewarded with his laugh.
“And wear something cute for once!” he demanded, just before the door swung shut behind her.
She probably wouldn’t have time to go home and change between the library and the party.God.She resisted the urge to rub her forehead and pulled out her phone to read it properly as she sprint-walked for the exit.
Call me.Odd. Usually her Grammy was more loquacious.
Out in the parking lot, the sky was a bright blue. A classic August evening in Kansas, it was warm, though there was an unusually strong breeze. She brushed back a curl as it escaped her braid, before scooping her keys out of their designated spot in the outer pocket of her backpack.
Her car, a beat-up Chevy Sonic she’d bought second (or probably third, fourth, or fifth) hand, was one of the last in the lot. She climbed in and hooked up her phone, preparing to call her grammy, when it rang, beating her to the punch. But it wasn’t her grammy’s name that flashed with the first ring. It was her boss.
“Hi, Mr. Wilson.” Had she somehow gotten her schedule wrong? “I’m nearly there.” She turned her keys in the ignition and pulled out of the lot.
“No, no, don’t come in. That’s why I’m calling. Didn’t you see the storm warning?”
“Just finished at the hospital.”
“You work too hard, kid.”
“You could pay me more. Then I wouldn’t have to.”
He barked a laugh. After two years, they had a good rapport, and there was nothing Mr. Wilson loved more than dry humor. “Would that I could, Thia. Would that I could.” A voice sounded in the background, too soft for Thia to make out the words. Then Mr. Wilson added, “Anyway, I gotta go. We’re closin’ up early here, so get home and stay safe!”
“Thanks, Mr. W—” He was already gone.
Storm warning. It must have been bad for them to close. That explained her grammy’s text. She used a gas station to turn around and commanded her phone to dial Grandma Winnie next.
Her grandma picked up on the second ring. “Dr. Sanbrooke! How was the shift?” Her voice had a unique blend of rasp and pep, like a cheerleader who smoked six packs a day.
“I watched Dr. Bowen’s femur fracture open reduction and internal fixation surgery. It went well, though Riley nearly upchucked.”
“Hey,” Grandma Winnie said with a distracted tone, letting Thia know she hadn’t registered any of her granddaughter’s comments. “You’re not heading to the library, are you?”
Thia turned right, leaving the density of the city center for the rolling greens and yellows of farmland that lay between urbanity and her home on Topeka’s outskirts. “No, they’re closing early.”
“Good,” her grammy said. “You heard about the storm.”
“Tornado?”
“Nah. But lightning probably. Some trees might come down.” Grandma Winnie paused, and Thia could make out what sounded like a box thudding against the ground. “I’m checking our emergency medical supplies.”
If there was no tornado, hiding in the cellar was overkill, but her grammy was weird about storms—likely a side effect of losing her only daughter to one. She was probably already prepping the cellar to lock them in for the night. It wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening; the space was renovated into a cozy hideaway set with sofas, a plush rug, and enough snacks to last until the end of days. But if the power was out, Thia couldn’t do research for her report, and that meant she would just be sitting there, wasting time she didn’t have.
“Thia?”
“Sorry.” She hit the gas a little harder. “I’ll hurry.”
Thirty minutes later, Thia pulled into the driveway, wind rattling the decrepit shell of her car. She dashed for the house, only to be nearly blown back off the porch as a particularly strong gust slammed into her.
The front door opened before Thia could wrangle her keys, Grandma Winnie appearing in the gap. She must have been watching from the window. She ushered Thia inside with a tug on her arm and pressed the door shut. “Hey, sweetums.”
