Free Red Lightning by Laura Pritchett Page B

been a bad summer. Winter is coming, though, and that might make it better.”
    â€œThe fire won’t get here. You said it wouldn’t.”
    â€œNo, it won’t get here.” I move the carrot chunks to the side of the cutting board with my knife and then pick up a tomato. “Hey, Amber? Where’s White Wolf Canyon? I never heard of that one. Could you do a search for me? Which part of Colorado is burning? I’m just curious.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Tess’s heart is pounding or quitting
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  or she doesn’t know what,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  and she grabs on to the kitchen counter, and the room
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  spins, and her heart spins, and the universe spins.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  She needs Amber out of the room.
    She disappears and after a pause yells, “Near Alamosa. That’s in the southern part of the state, they say. It looks pretty, on the images. The mountains, I mean. They’re big. They go on forever.”
    â€œDid they say when it started?” I keep my voice steady.
    Pause. “Yesterday.”
    â€œThat many acres in one day? That’s impossible.”
    Amber comes into the kitchen. “The wind, they say. The wind gusts are super bad. I’m glad you’re not in the mountains, that you came to visit us now.” Those almond-shaped deep brown eyes have the smallest lines of green near the pupil. Just like mine. But the green is like flecks of fishscale, flecks of mica, flecks of lifegreen. “That would be scary, wouldn’t it? To be there now? You okay?” Amber whispers it, with real concern.
    â€œOh, maybe. It’s because your eyes are so pretty,” I whisper, calm, fading out. “They’re so beautiful, Amber. You are so beautiful.”
    â€œThank you.” Shrug. But she’s smiling. It meant something. She feels seen. Then she adds, “Tess? Are you really all right?”
    I lean against the counter to brace myself. “Amber, can I say one thing?” Still my voice is quiet, a calmness enforced by the universe, a solidness pushed into me by some outside force. I clear my throat. “When you walk behind a horse, you’re supposed to walk right behind the horse. As you know. Because if you step back a bit, and that horse kicks, it has more power, more momentum, and he’s gonna get you good. You need to get way behind the horse, or stay up close.”
    â€œI know. Kay taught me. Baxter too.”
    â€œYes. Life is like that. Move toward danger. It’s safer that way. Either that, or get the hell out of the way.” I pause. Try to look brighter, more alive. “Not that you are in the mood to be taking any advice from me. For sure. But I learned something from leaving you.” And here, I take my hand off the counter and put it over my eyes so I can have the dark. My voice goes soft again and not even really of my ownaccord. I just hear it, with a bit of surprise. “To me, Amber, you were a danger. Your infant self. Because you represented everything I didn’t want to give up. My freedom, my partying. So I ran off. I got far away from that danger. Which was you. I’m sorry to say. But Libby did the opposite. She looked right at the danger, which was you—because you were also a danger to her—she had no money, no real job, no love, no nothing—and she pulled you in. In close .”
    I open my eyes to find her staring at me, biting the inside of her upper lip. “Okay.” And then, because I look so pleading, she adds, “Either get far away from the danger, or move in really close. That’s what you’re