R. Stine - Red Rain

Daniel gave him a hard two-handed shove and laughed again, shaking water from his hair.

“You’re okay? He’s okay?” Ethan shouted from the side, his voice high and shrill. “Is he really okay?”

Ira still hadn’t spoken. He bobbed in place, eyes on Daniel.

“Why’d you let me up?” Daniel pushed Ira again, more gently this time. “I didn’t signal. I wasn’t finished.”

“But. .” Ira struggled to find words. “It was five minutes.”

Daniel laughed. “Did you forget? I told you Sammy and I were swimming before we could walk.”

“But. . that’s impossible.” Ira shook his head. “Five minutes?”

“I can’t believe he’s okay,” Ethan called. “Hey, get out of the pool. Let’s get some snacks or something. Come on. I can’t stop shaking. Get out, guys.”

Samuel could see that Ira would love to climb out of the water and catch his breath. But Daniel raised a hand. “Whoa. It’s Ira’s turn.”

“Huh? No way.” Ira slid back, rippling the water. “No way. I can’t stay under for five minutes. You win.”

Daniel grabbed Ira’s shoulder. “You have to take your turn. Maybe you’ll do better than a minute. That would be cool, right, lad?”

Ira didn’t reply. “No. You win, Daniel. Let’s get out.”

Daniel grabbed Ira’s hair. “Take your turn. Let’s see how you do. Give me a signal. Just wave your arms when your chest starts to hurt. Okay?”

He didn’t wait for Ira’s reply. He gave him a hard push and sent him sinking. Ira’s head disappeared under the water.

Samuel knew the smile on Daniel’s face. He’d seen it before.

Behind him, he heard a splash. He turned to see that Ethan had dropped into the pool. He was wading toward them. “Ira can only do a minute. I’ve seen him.”

Daniel gripped Ira’s hair tightly. He kept his arm stiff, pushing the boy down. A few bubbles escaped Ira’s mouth.

Daniel, still smiling, turned to Ethan. “What about keeping count? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to time him.”

Ethan peered down at Ira. “I told you. He can only do a minute.”

A shadow swept over them as two large birds flapped overhead, squawking loudly. Samuel glanced up quickly. He lowered his eyes in time to see Daniel slide his other hand over Ira’s head and push down with both hands.

Ira’s legs kicked slowly. Distorted by the water, they reminded Samuel of pale, rubbery snakes. And then the boy’s arms shot out. He began waving wildly.

Ethan stared at Daniel. “The signal. He wants to come up.”

Daniel pushed down on Ira’s head with both hands. The smile never left his face.

Ira kicked and thrashed. He tried to twist his head out from Daniel’s grasp. But Daniel held on tight. A stream of bubbles rose up from Ira’s mouth.

“Let him up!” Ethan shouted. “He’s signaling. He’s done.”

Daniel held on tight, not moving. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring.

“Let him up! Come on, Daniel. Let him up!”

Ira shot his feet out. Twisted his head. Raised both fists above the surface. Beneath the water, his body flopped like a frantic fish caught on a hook.

Daniel scrunched up his face, his eyes shut, and pushed down on the struggling boy’s hair, holding his head under the surface.

Samuel wanted to sink under the water and never emerge.

Please, Daniel, don’t do it. Please don’t do it this time.

Please stop now. Yes, I know why you are doing it. I know the new pa doesn’t want us. I know you want to rule the pool. But, please, Daniel. It’s too soon.

Please don’t do it to Ira. Please.

“Why is Axl crying?”

Roz squinted at Mark. “Why does the sun come up every morning? You’re the child shrink. You tell me .”

Mark set down the book he’d been reading, a treatise about how sibling order determines your fate. So interesting how often the oldest sibling is the achiever in the family. He pulled off his reading glasses and folded them carefully. He grinned at his sister. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

“Oh, wow. Genius. I never would have thought of that.” Roz rolled her eyes. She tossed the ball of dirty laundry she was carrying onto his lap.

He pulled a red pajama top off his head. “He’s bored, that’s all. Let’s pick up the boys and take everyone to the ocean.”

Roz started grabbing up the dirty clothes. “I thought doing the laundry might be more fun.”

She turned as Axl came toddling into the room. “Beach! Beach! Beach!” He could always stop crying in a split second.

Mark chuckled. “He was listening to us.”

“He listens to everything,” Roz said. “He’s a little spy.”

“Beach! Beach! Beach!” He reached for his mom to pick him up, but her arms were full of laundry. So he wrapped his hands around her knees.

“Where are the boys?”

“At Ethan’s house. All three of them. We’ll have to pull them from the pool. I’ll probably have to bribe them with ice cream to get them to come with us.”

“They’ll come. Axl, let go of me. I can’t walk. Is Lea coming?”

“No. She’s working. I’m not sure what’s up with her. She’s writing a piece about death rituals.”

Roz squinted at him. “Odd.”

“Yes. Odd.”

“It’s that island. The hurricane. She saw so much death. I think she’s having trouble shaking it from her mind.”

“We’ll have to be very nice to her.” Roz struggled across the room with Axl clinging to one leg. Giggling. He’d turned her into an amusement park ride. “The ocean will tire him out. That’s good. Only thing I hate is that he eats the beach.”

Mark nodded. “He’s definitely a sand eater. I had to pry a huge glob of sand from his mouth last time, remember? Maybe he learned his lesson.”

“Learned his lesson? Go ahead. Say something stupider than that. We’ll just have to watch him like a hawk.”

“Yes. Like a hawk. I’ll start loading up the car. We’ll take your SUV. More room.”

“Do we need food?”

“No. Bring something for Axl. We’re only going for an hour. No one will starve. And we can buy them ice cream from the truck in the parking lot.”

“Let me just drop this laundry in the machine.” She turned back to him. “This is the twins’ stuff. It’s so clean, you’d think they didn’t wear it.” She held up a white T-shirt. “But look at this. This ragged, dark spot on the sleeve? I think it’s a burn mark.”

“A burn mark?”

“Yes. The sleeve was definitely burned. Weird?”

“Weird.” Mark stared at it. “Hope they’re not playing with matches in their private hideaway back there.”

“They love it back there, Mark.”

“Really? Think they’re happy here?”

“Well. . I walked by the guesthouse last night after supper and I heard them in there giggling and giggling.”

“Think they already feel at home?”

“They have funny jokes. One of them kept saying, ‘smoked meat, smoked meat,’ and then they’d laugh and laugh.”

“I don’t get the joke.”

“They were being silly. I think they’re doing a great job of fitting in. I mean, losing their family and all, moving from their home, it can’t be easy.”

Mark climbed to his feet. He glanced at his laptop monitor. No email. No one ever emailed him on Saturday. “Well, we’ll see how they fit in. I mean, we haven’t asked much of them. They live by themselves in the back. They don’t share much about school with us. They don’t-”

“Mark, there was a horrible murder right in our driveway. Maybe they even witnessed it. But they haven’t seemed messed up by it. They haven’t acted out or anything.”