She couldn’t wait for Ivan to come home. What if the storm passed before he arrived and she missed her opportunity? She called Ivan’s cell phone, but he didn’t pick up. Still, she knew where to find him. At the high school, practicing with the team he’d wanted so badly to be a part of.
But they were about to get a new family, a new team. The man in white had promised. He had said they had work to do. Great work in the name of God. Iris had never thought much about God. She’d always believed in her and Ivan, and that was enough. But Ivan had abandoned her, and only the man in white’s God could bring him back.
Iris brought her dark cloud along as she rode her bike toward the high school, but she commanded it to rise higher into the sky so no one would notice it following her. She searched the sky for the storm the man in white said was coming, but the clouds were as white as his hair. The only dark cloud belonged to Iris, a stain on snowy floating mountains.
When she arrived at the high school—an institution she now knew she would never attend—she found the football players finishing up practice on the field. She parked her bike next to the bleachers and watched, trying to pick her brother out of the tangle of uniformed, grass-stained boys on the field. She spotted him quickly. He was taller than most of the other boys, even the seniors. Iris realized after only a few minutes of watching that he had talent. He could throw the ball with startling accuracy. And when he took off his helmet at the close of practice, Iris saw her twin smiling in a way he never did at home. He looked happier than she’d ever seen him, basking in male camaraderie as his teammates slapped him on the back or pounded fists with him.
Then Ivan saw her leaning against the bleachers, and his smile disappeared. He looked around at the other departing players, and Iris realized he was nervous about his new friends seeing his freak of a sister with her lashless eyes and head of ice-colored bristle.
Iris didn’t give her twin the option of joining the other players. She strode out onto the field and met him there. Glancing up, she saw her dark cloud trailing her, fifty feet up.
“What are you doing here?” Ivan asked.
“I have to tell you something,” Iris said. “Mom’s not coming home. She was driving drunk and caused an accident. She’s in the hospital now, and after that she’ll be going to jail because people got hurt. Oh, and we’re going to lose the house.”
Ivan’s eyes grew round as she spoke. His helmet hung like a stone in his right hand, and he dropped it on the grass so he could rub his hand over his face, as though by doing so he could scrub away reality.
Reality. The reality was that the man in white had told Iris about their mom and the house. Then, after he left, Iris received a phone call from a police officer, informing her of the accident. Iris didn’t need proof about the house. If the man in white said they were going to lose it, then they were going to lose it.
Ivan surprised her by suddenly kicking his helmet. It flew across the grass.
“Why can’t my life ever be good for two seconds?” he wailed. His face was red, and his eyes filled with angry tears. He fell to his knees in the grass and hung his head. His hands lay in his lap, palms facing up, as though waiting for someone to place a gift in them.
Iris lowered herself to the grass in front of her twin and settled her hands in his. He gripped them tight and looked at her, tears streaming from his eyes. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I didn’t mean them. We have to stick together,” he said. “Always.”
They were the words Iris had been waiting to hear.
It was time for the storm she was promised.
She turned her face to the sky, spotted her dark cloud. Saw it growing, staining the white cotton clouds that hung above them, turning them black.
“We should go inside,” Ivan said, worry in his voice. “I read somewhere that people who’ve been struck by lightning once are more likely to be struck again.”
He tried to rise, but Iris held him where he was, clenching her fists tighter around his. She felt far away, like a part of herself had risen with her cloud.
“Stay with me,” she said. “Forever.”
A burst of rain spattered them. “Seriously, Iris, we need to—” That was all Ivan had a chance to say before lightning split the air and found him.
Iris was still holding her brother’s hands when the lightning entered his shoulder. She felt their skin go molten like metal and fuse them into one being, the way they’d been born. The way they were meant to be.
Some stories live with you gently, and ripen after sane and steady work. Others rage out of the forest and cross your threshold and sink their teeth into your leg. “Nocturne” was of the latter sort.