Page 7 of To Catch a Firefly

And then maybe, just maybe, he’ll stay.

When we leave the tornado shelter a half hour later, debris covers the ground. The sky is startlingly bright, as if it didn’t just rain destruction down all around us. Our houses are fine, apart from a single shutter at Lucky’s that’s hanging loose.

But the corn… There’s a long, warped path carved into the field that starts not 300 paces from where Lucky was standing.

I’ve never been more afraid that, one way or another, I’m going to lose my friend.

Chapter 3

Ellis

I was fifteen when I got into my first fight.

“Come on, asshole! Is that all you’ve got?”

I rush toward the sound of Lucky’s voice, gut dropping when I find him surrounded by three guys from our class. Brandon has a hold of Lucky’s shirt, pressing my friend against a locker as other students stand back, creating a wide arc around the scene. Brandon’s hand is clenched at his side, and Lucky is smiling around a split lip.

“Hey,” I bark, pushing my way through the crowd.

Brandon has only a moment to look over in shock before my fist is connecting with his jaw. He drops Lucky but recovers fast, driving his shoulder into me in a move that might work out onthe football field, but I’m bigger than Brandon—his friends, too—and I barely sway an inch. It’s all too easy to press my weight forward and connect my fist with Brandon’s nose when he takes a stuttered step back.

“Oh shit,” his friend, Riley, hisses.

I look his way next, and the guy’s eyes widen. He holds up his hands quickly, backing away and grabbing for Jace, their third, to follow. The two guys take off as Brandon groans on the ground, and when I look up, our classmates are holding up their phones, varying degrees of surprise and awe on their faces.

I grunt, and half of them flinch away.

“Hey,” Lucky says in a soothing voice, his hand landing on my arm. My pulse comes down as I turn, but only slightly. Lucky is grinning, blood smeared over his lower lip.

“Why are you smiling?” I grit out.

His grin widens as someone behind me gasps.

“Is your hand okay?” Lucky asks, taking a hold of my tightened fist. He cringes slightly, looking at the damage, but I shake my head. It’s fine. Lucky rolls his eyes. “Okay, tough guy.”

Brandon groans again from the ground as our classmates whisper behind us.

“Did you see that?”

“I’ve never seen the dude angry before.”

“Did you know he could talk?”

“Hey,” Lucky says again, hands on the sides of my face. He looks up at me with those clear blue eyes. I still haven’t figured out what to call them. Azure? Cerulean? “You okay?”

I nod, scoffing and touching the side of his lip.

“I’m fine,” Lucky says.

Right.

“Don’t give me that.”

Smartass.

“El, I—”

“What is going on here?” our teacher, Mrs. McMillan, says. She rushes up to us, parting the sea of gawking students, and her hands fly to her mouth when she catches sight of Brandon on the floor.

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