a deadly storm, an unsolved disappearance, and a small town brimming with secrecy;
an outcast girl, a boy who only knows how to hide, and the world against them;
what could go wrong?
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The following morning, Jack Creek is brought to the waking world by a thunderstorm challenged only by the likes of Hurricane Monroe. Boo jolts awake to the sound of thunder shaking her tiny apartment, sending her heart into an early morning sprint. On the couch beside her is a tangled mess of blankets, the only evidence of Harry's lean body curled up with hers the night before. She vaguely remembers him leaving somewhere around three in the morning, when Boo could barely keep her eyelids open. Before the patter of rain can lull her back to sleep, a call from Frank pops up on her phone and Boo knows she's got no chance of having an easy day.
« • »
"Hey, Melly, long time no see!"
Upon trudging into the hardware store almost an hour later, Boo is immediately greeted by a cheerful-looking Luke.
"Hey, Luke," she mumbles wearily, shaking the rain from her umbrella. He bounds forward, preparing to crush her in a hug, but stops when he sees her melancholy expression. "What's wrong, babe?"
"Rough night," she lies hoarsely. Rough everything, honestly-her chest still aches from the buckets of smoke she inhaled and Martha is once again heavy on her mind. "Frank called me in last minute this morning. Said I'd be fired if I didn't come in."
Luke rolls his eyes. "You know he doesn't mean it. He needs us way more than we need this job."
"Regardless," Boo grumbles, stifling a sigh. "It's a pain in the ass to see his name on my phone."
Luke cackles gleefully beside her, and she can't help but crack a small smile at hearing his unabated laughter. "Ah, there's my sunshine!" he cheers, causing her smile to grow even more. "Come on, it's early so we can still get away with being lazy. I've just been stocking the small appliances, you can refill the paint color samples."
"Nice and easy," Boo exhales gently. Luke nods in agreement and she slides him a grateful grimace. "Thank you," she says softly.
"Anytime," he pipes. "When you're working in Hell, you gotta look out for each other."
Another wide smile crosses her face. Luke gives her an exaggerated salute before sauntering back to his stocking ladder. Boo takes a few extra minutes putting away her belongings and plows through a bag of cookies from the break room before grabbing an armful of paint samples. She passes Michael on her way to the paint aisle; he flashes her a bright grin but he's tied up with a customer and she isn't in much of a talking mood anyway. She returns his smile before retreating to her quiet assignment.
Time becomes inconsequential as she works. The methodical, mundane nature of her task is oddly comforting-a sense of grounding after such an emotionally turbulent evening. A rainbow slowly appears in her wake as she works her way through the small shelves, placing hundreds of colored slips in their designated spaces. By the time she steps back an hour later, an entire section of the paint aisle is a bright, colorful miracle. Boo smiles in satisfaction at her handiwork.
