“Get on now!” he shouted. And I did. I stood and went to the bike and sat behind him. I had resigned myself to something terrible. It didn’t matter anyway. The air was heavy with ozone and the scent of locust flowers. I gripped the sides of the seat. The motorcycle accelerated forward, and in a sickening moment I understood that he was going to go back up the hill. It was like climbing a vertical wall. I shut my eyes and leaned forward. Several times Wilson had to balance the bike with his feet as we swerved or stalled.

Then we hit the trail at speed and raced up the path, the heavy droplets drumming against my skin. Wasn’t it more dangerous to be sitting on top of metal? I used to think that the rubber tires grounded the electricity, but on a school trip to the Benjamin Franklin Museum we’d learned that that wasn’t the case. The reason you were safe in a car was because of the metal shell you were in, which drew the currents to the ground. The motorcycle was a magnet for lightning. We came off the trail at the bottom of my street and revved up the road and into our driveway. Wilson pulled right up to the back door.

Lightning and thunder crashed together as I slid off the bike and lunged for the back door, trying to turn the wet handle. I pushed it open and went to shut it, but Wilson was right behind me. He put his foot against the door and stepped inside. I crossed my arms and looked at the ground.

Wilson took off his helmet as Marie came down the stairs.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” I wasn’t sure who Marie was referring to.

I looked at him: his smile, his bruised hands, the puddle of water forming at his feet. I’d left the trail. I couldn’t figure out how he’d found me down there. Had he been following me and Sage?

Thunder exploded in the room. The lights flickered a few times and went out.

“There goes the electricity,” said Marie.

“How’s Ellen?” he asked.

“She’s good. Still stiff and bruised, but she’s back to herself. Sullen and sketching.”

“It wasn’t hard to find the guy,” Wilson said.

I hadn’t told Marie what Sage had heard about Pottstown. I felt cold to the bone and, looking down, saw that my arms were goose-bumped, hairs on end.

“You found him? Who is he?”

“Some lowlife from Pottstown.”

“Isn’t that like a hundred miles away?” Marie said. “How’d you find him?”