Page 48 of Praying for Rain

I feel Rain watching me as I pace the floor of her real boyfriend’s bedroom like a caged animal. “We’ve gotta go.” I don’t have to tell her why. Tomorrow’s date is hanging over our heads like the blade of a guillotine.

Rain nods once. She looks younger today without all that makeup on. Her wet hair hangs limp around her face and stops bluntly at her chin. The sleeves of her plaid flannel shirt are too long and bunched in her fists. And her wide blue eyes blink up at me with the trusting innocence of a child.

This isn’t just about me anymore, and that fact makes finding the bomb shelter even more imperative.

I pull my holster on over my wifebeater and cover it with my Hawaiian shirt. I couldn’t sleep last night until I got my gun from the kitchen. I can’t ever sleep unless I know there’s a weapon within arm’s reach. Even as a kid, I used to stash a kitchen knife under my pillow at night.

I wish I could say I’d never had to use it.

Rain slides off the bed and kneels beside the backpack while I pull on my jeans and boots. She shoves her extra clothes, the first aid kit, and my meds inside, but not the hydrocodone. That she uncaps and shakes into her palm without making a sound. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she covertly pushes a little white pill into her mouth and tucks the orange bottle into her bra through the neck of her shirt.

At first, I thought she didn’t want me to see her dosing because she was afraid I’d take her pills again, but the more I watch her, the more I realize she’s not afraid; she’s ashamed. She’s ashamed of her dependence.

I know the fucking feeling.

Crash!

The sound of glass breaking down the hall shatters our silence. Rain and I freeze, our eyes locking as a chorus of giggles and curse words echo through the house.

“See? I told you they left.” A girl’s voice.

“Damn. I was really hoping I’d get to fuck Carter Renshaw before I died.” Another girl.

“We all were, honey.” A guy.

Their laughter fills the house as the color drains from Rain’s face.

“You know them?” I whisper.

Rain simply nods and covers her mouth with her sleeves.

“I don’t know why the hell he wasted all his time with Rainbow Williams.” The way this bitch says her name makes me wish she were a guy so that I could go out there and bash her face in.

“Uh … ’cause she’s gorgeous,” the guy replies, lisping a little on the last S.

I want to bash his face in, too.

“I guess, if you’re into that whole goody-goody, Little Miss Perfect thing. But Carter was captain of the basketball team. He should have been dating a cheerleader.”

Rain’s eyes drop to the floor, and I see red.

“Oh, like you?” the other girl sasses back.

“Yeah. Duh.”

I hear cabinet doors opening and shutting as the trio continues their shit-talking in the kitchen. With the bedroom door wide open and no other sound in the house, we can still hear them clearly. Too clearly.

“Well, I made out with him senior year, so maybe he just had a thing for blondes.”

Rain’s eyes flick to mine, wide with shock.

“Oh my God, you little slut!” the cheerleader cackles. “I can’t believe you never told me!”

“Are you serious? You would have told the whole school by Monday, and Rainbow probably would have killed herself by Tuesday.”

“Ugh, you’re so right.”

I watch Rain shrink, disappearing into her flannel shirt until only her flushed pink face is visible.

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