Read Online Something Like Thunder by Jay Bell - Free Book Online Page A

whenever he’s off work.” She hopped up and grabbed a notebook and pen, turning to a blank page. “Let’s come up with an idea for every single day. We can hit a bunch of museums in Houston or—”
    “Road trip to Galveston?”
    She nodded and scribbled it down. “What else?” When he remained silent, she looked up, seeing the relief on his face. “It sucks that you have to hide from your own brother, but we’re going to have fun.”
    “You’re my best friend,” Nathaniel said. “Of all time.”
    Rebecca smiled, her cheeks a little flushed. “Then let’s make this a spring break to remember!”
    * * * * *
    Time was Nathaniel’s greatest weakness. No matter how often he promised himself to remain on guard or how much he prepared for the worst by working out each day, eventually his memory blurred at the edges, his instincts growing lukewarm. That’s when it would happen. His mind would be somewhere else—such as the old Savage Steve Holland movie he was watching at the moment. When his brother plopped down on the couch next to him, Nathaniel knew he should have gotten up before Dwight’s butt hit the cushion. But he didn’t, his intuition having failed him.
    Dwight reached for the remote, flipping over to a football game. Nathaniel was pushing himself up to stand when his brother grabbed his wrist, squeezed, and yanked him back down. He tried pulling away, but Dwight’s grip was strong, ensuring he couldn’t escape.
    “Watch the game with me,” he said, blue eyes flicking over to meet his. Then he smiled.
    Nathaniel felt sorry for any girl taken in by the perfect white teeth, the strong nose, and the eyes that danced with joyful glee. How many girls had been lured in by that handsome face, and how many had walked away damaged by the experience? Nathaniel tried jerking away, but Dwight’s jaw clenched and his expression grew dark.
    Nathaniel stopped struggling. He attempted to relax, to pretend that none of this really bothered him. He even tried flipping the switch to kill his emotions. Dwight still gripped his wrist, making Nathaniel want to recoil in fear, but he distanced himself from the situation as much as possible while staring at the television. The increasing pressure on his wrist made this impossible. Like a python squeezing its prey to death, Dwight’s grip grew tighter and tighter. For half an hour they sat together, but Dwight never stopped. His own hand must have been aching from effort. Nathaniel—brow sweating now—looked out of the corner of his eye to see Dwight’s forearm flexing, his knuckles white. Nathaniel’s hand had lost sensation, the circulation cut off. Not his wrist though. That seared with maddening pain, the bones seeming to be on the verge of cracking and splintering. Then the garage door rumbled, signaling their parents’ return. Dwight didn’t let go until the door connecting to the kitchen swung open. Then he released Nathaniel, casually wiping the sweat of his palm on the couch. When their mother called for help unloading the groceries, he reached for the remote, turning up the sound a few notches.
    Nathaniel stared at him, heart pounding. Then he rose to help his mother. His hand tingled painfully as sensation returned, his wrist burning, but he ignored this pain as best he could and carried in plastic bags filled with food. Once this chore was done, he went to his room, shut and locked the door, then curled up on his bed. Rebecca’s plan wouldn’t work. Any second that Nathaniel was at home meant being at risk. He needed more than an after-school job or a day at the museum. Karate lessons? A knife? A gun?
    Help. That’s what he needed most. Perhaps that’s why the next day, when his wrist had turned dark red and purple, he left it in plain view. His mother didn’t notice at the breakfast table because she was running late for an appointment. His father had already left for work. Dwight was still in bed. If anyone noticed at school, they didn’t say