Storm (Swipe Series)

grass, aching and tired and hopeful.
    But Logan couldn’t sleep. His mind raced groggily from one worry to the next. He flipped the pages of his Bible and skimmed its contents distractedly. “You awake?” he whispered finally. He turned to face Hailey, and his cheek brushed a few scratchy, brown blades of grass.
    “Reading, like you,” Hailey said, and she waved her copy of Swipe . “Or rereading, I suppose. Hey, when you went through this thing, did you happen to notice how much of a weirdo Evan Angler makes me out to be?”
    Logan thought about it. “You are a weirdo,” he said finally.
    And Hailey threw the book at him.
    For a few minutes, they both lay in the field quietly, just counting the stars.
    “You know, it doesn’t . . .” Hailey stopped, considering her words. “It doesn’t make sense to me,” she said. “Why Lamson would destroy the country he fought so hard to save. Why he’d ruin the land that’s already his . . .”
    Logan shrugged. “We’re on the brink of Markless civil war. Last time around, he blew up the dam and flooded the whole east coast. This time around, he’ll dry us all out. It’s not so unbelievable, when you look at his past.”
    “I guess,” Hailey said. “But why’d Lamson go to Lily about it? Why her , of all people?”
    “She’s his personal assistant,” Logan said. “Makes sense that he’d confide in her.”
    “Okay, but how’d she get to be in that position? Who put her there? And why?”
    “Like I said back in Beacon, months ago—of all of us, Lily was the one best positioned for the fight. She’s spent the last five years getting close to Lamson. She even betrayed me as proof.” Logan shrugged. “Now we’re finally seeing the payoff.”
    “I guess so,” Hailey said. “I’m just . . . worrying, I suppose.”
    “I know,” Logan said. “Me too.”
    There was a pause.
    “You see that?” Hailey asked, pointing up at the sky.
    “What?”
    “A shooting star. Supposed to be good luck, I think.”
    Logan smiled, though he hadn’t seen it.
    5
    It was late, and Connor was sitting in Steve’s room with the lights off, just thinking, when Steve opened the door and got such a shock that he nearly fell backward with surprise.
    “ Cylis , you just about scared the life out of me!” Steve said, clutching at his chest. “Man, what are you doing in here?”
    “Homework,” Connor said flatly.
    “In the dark?”
    Connor shrugged. “The sun just sort of went down.”
    “Yeah, but we have lights . . . ,” Steve said, flipping the switch next to the door.
    “Okay,” Connor said. He was squinting now, but other than that he hadn’t moved.
    “Also, your homework’s not out,” Steve said. “All the tablets in here are off.”
    Connor looked around slowly and acknowledged this was true. “I was getting to that,” he said.
    And for a minute, Steve just stood there, taking in the gloomy scene. It’d been a week since Connor started staying with the Larkins, sleeping on a blow-up mattress on the floor of Steve’s room. In the beginning, Steve was glad to have him. He enjoyed helping out as Connor transitioned into his new life, whatever that ended up being, and anyway, he liked spending time with the guy. Those first few nights, the two of them stayed up late reminiscing, joking around, and talking about girls. The one thing Connor never mentioned was his parents, or the scandal they’d been swept up underneath. And Steve was fine with that, of course. He imagined that in Connor’s shoes, he might not want to talk about any of that either.
    It was later in the week that things had started to deteriorate. First, it got harder and harder to drag Connor out of bed each morning. By Wednesday, Steve wasn’t even able to get him up in time for school.
    Second, what started off as nice Larkin family meals with Connor as the gracious and well-mannered guest had quickly turned into morbid affairs with little eating and even less talking. Eventually, Connor just stopped showing up for meals at all, even when called. Today, he’d spent the whole day in Steve’s room, just sitting in Steve’s desk chair. Not really doing much of anything.
    “I’m worried about you,” Steve said finally. “I think you’re depressed. I think you need help.”
    Connor nodded. “That’s probably true.”
    “I, uh . . . I invited Sally over for Mark-opoly tonight. Do you . . . would you mind if she joined us?”
    Connor shrugged. “Nah.”
    Sally poked her