A Beautiful Dark

dark, like the storm headed our way was about to blow down some serious power lines.
    “Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling this morning?”
    I laughed. “I’m fine. I got up, answered the phone, and now I’m back in bed.”
    “Don’t tempt a guy, Skye; I’m only human. Are you wearing pajamas?”
    “Ian!”
    “Kidding! Kidding.” Only I had a feeling he wasn’t. He made jokes like that a lot, but he was a good friend and I’d never thought of him as more. “I really did call to see how you’re doing. It was kind of scary there toward the end.”
    Absently, I pulled the covers over my head, watching for cracks where the light shone through. “Yeah, you guys really put the ‘surprise’ in surprise party.” I yawned. “I’ve never heard of an earthquake hitting this area before.”
    “Is that what you heard?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It wasn’t an earthquake. The boiler in the basement exploded.”
    I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Wasn’t that thing brand-new?” I remembered last year when Ian was going on and on about how the installation was messing up his whole shift schedule. Ian’s job at the Bean included all kinds of odd fix-it jobs, and he’d been there before school some mornings to help oversee the installation.
    “Yup. Apparently it just overheated. It got so hot it even melted in places—that’s what caused the explosion.”
    “Whoa,” I said, bringing the blanket down from over my head. The cool air hit my face. “Weird.”
    “I know.”
    “Was anyone hurt?”
    “Not that I’ve heard. We were really lucky.”
    “Skye?” Aunt Jo knocked on my open bedroom door. “Babe, if I’m gonna drive you into town to get your car, we’d better do it now. It looks like snow; I don’t want it to get stuck.”
    I nodded at her. “Ian?” I said into the phone.
    “Yeah,” he said. “I heard her. Stop by the Bean if you get a sec when you’re in town. I’m here cleaning up the mess.”
    “That sucks.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “They couldn’t get anyone else to help?”
    “Rub it in, please?”
    I laughed. “See you in a bit.” I heard the sound of shattered glass being kicked, then Ian sighed into the phone.
    “I’ll be here.”
    I hung up, but the phone immediately started ringing again. Cassie.
    “We’re going to get a blizzard!” she sang. “How are you feeling?”
    “Head. Car. Snow. Town,” I moaned.
    “Got it. Call me when you get back and are feeling better.”
    The line clicked dead.
    We drove in silence for most of the way there. I just didn’t feel much like talking. When I’d gotten home the night before, Aunt Jo had been waiting up for me, so Cassie and I had to tell her all about the un-surprise party and what I’d thought was an earthquake. Cassie had explained that I’d been so shaken up that she’d had to drive me home. I didn’t want Aunt Jo to worry, but how could I explain what had really happened to me when even I wasn’t sure?
    Aunt Jo’s eyes kept shifting nervously from the road to look at me. I had filled her in on what Ian had just told me about the boiler exploding. It was scary to think that the night before could have been a way bigger mess than just a bunch of shattered glass.
    I let my head fall against the headrest and watched the trees flash by.
    Aunt Jo stopped in front of my black Subaru. I hopped out of the passenger side of her car, my boots crunching loudly in the snow. She got out, too, and came around to the curb. She slapped her left hand uneasily against the side of the SUV, and some grayish blond wisps swung loose from her ponytail. Her cheeks were just shy of burned, the result of last week’s mountaineering trek with Into the Woods Outdoor Company, the outdoor sporting goods and adventure company she owned and managed.
    She’d always been happy running the show from behind the scenes, until two weeks ago when her head trip leader, Jenn Spratt, had taken a terrible fall. Her carabiner hadn’t been secured during an ice-climbing trip. Jenn had broken her left leg and dislocated a shoulder. Aunt Jo had her office staff working on finding a temporary replacement, but until then, she was the only one qualified enough to take groups out into the backcountry. Lucky for me, growing up with Aunt Jo had taught me to be pretty self-sufficient. The past couple of weeks, she’d been away for long stretches of time, coming home sunburned, windburned, scratched, and bruised. But all of it just made