Page 16 of Praying for Rain

“Oh, right.” Rain furrows her brow, considering my statement. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

I shrug. “You’re going to anyway.”

“If whatever’s coming is as bad as everyone thinks it is, then why are you trying so hard to survive it? I mean, what if you end up being the last person on Earth?”

“Then, I’d be king of the fucking world,” I deadpan. The tank is almost full, so I stand the bike upright to stop the flow.

Rain lets out a sad laugh as I pull out the hose and screw the gas cap back on. “Yeah, you’d be king of the whole busted, ruined planet.”

I shrug and push the kickstand back out. I never talk about my shit, but there’s something about the way this girl is hanging on my every word that makes them just start falling out of my mouth. “The way I see it, if I can survive the fucking apocalypse, then it makes everything I’ve been through mean something, you know? Like, instead of breaking me … they made me unbreakable.”

Rain’s big, sad eyes begin to glisten, making me wish I’d kept my fucking mouth shut. I don’t want her pity. I want her compliance. I want her resources. And, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind bending her over the hood of this truck right now either.

“Who is they?” she asks as I pull her death grip off the hoses and toss them into the overgrown grass.

“Doesn’t matter.” I pick my holster up off the ground and carefully pull it back on over my wifebeater. “All that matters is that, if I’m still here and they’re not, then I won.”

“Well, whoever they are”—Rain gives me a small smile as I fan my shirt in the air to smooth out the wrinkles—“I hope they die last.”

A laugh bursts out of me as I look at Rain’s angelic face. She starts laughing too, then snatches my lucky shirt out of my hands.

“Oh my God, were you seriously about to put this back on?” She cackles. I grab my shirt and try to pull it out of her hands, but she clings to it with dear life. “How are you gonna survive the apocalypse wearing a shirt soaked in gasoline?”

“I don’t exactly see any laundromats around here, do you?” I fake left and grab the shirt when she veers right, but she still doesn’t let go.

“I can wash it.”

“What? When your mom gets home from work and lets you in?”

Rain’s face pales, and she releases my shirt.

Fuck. I didn’t mean to call her out.

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes losing focus and dropping to my chest, “when my mom gets home.”

Shit. Now, she looks all sad and freaked out. Her hand is in her hair again. That’s never good. This bitch does stupid shit when she’s freaking out.

“Hey,” I say, trying to snap her out of it. “You wanna eat?” I drape my shirt over my good shoulder and begin untying the grocery bags hanging from my handlebars. “I saw a tree house in your backyard. We should eat up there—”

“In case the dogs smell the food,” Rain finishes my sentence with a faraway look on her face.

“No.” I grin, holding the bags with my good arm and guiding her into the almost-knee-high grass with my other. “Because it’s probably full of Justin Bieber posters. He’s so fucking dreamy.”

Rain snorts through her nose like a pig. “Oh my God.” She cackles. “Did you just make a joke?”

I raise an eyebrow at her and keep walking. “I would never joke about the Biebs.”

As Rain falls into step beside me, snickering at my stupid fucking joke, I realize that I might have been wrong earlier.

I already feel like the king of the world.

Rain

I shove all the thoughts of my mother back into the Shit I’m Never Going to Think About Again Because None of This Matters and We’re All Going to Die fortress, pull up the drawbridge, and light that bitch on fire.

Three more days.

As I climb the ladder to my rickety old tree house, I realize that it’s already starting to get dark outside.

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