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Cyrus watched his brother’s Adam’s apple bounce and his eyebrows crash together.

“What are you doing here?” Dan’s voice had tightened. “What do you want?”

Billy or Bones or Billy Bones laughed. “Just a room. All I need is a room. One room in particular. Passing through and thought I’d say hello to the old place.”

“It’s my room, Dan.” Cyrus pointed at his brother. “He wants my room. Don’t give it to him.”

While Dan moved awkwardly behind the desk, the old man turned to Cyrus. Digging a key ring from his pocket, he held up a long gold key between his fingers.

“I’ll more than pay for the night. Park my truck. There’s something for you on the seat.”

The old man’s face was pained but smiling. Once more, Cyrus stretched out his hand to take something from him. This time, Skelton seemed less willing. His eyes were hard and nervous. His breathing had stopped.

He dropped the keys onto Cyrus’s palm, winked awkwardly, and turned away. The old man’s back was suddenly more bowed. His skin had grown pale.

Dan nodded, and Cyrus moved slowly toward the door.

“I’ll park the Baron,” Antigone said. “The keys in it?”

Dan nodded again, all the while keeping nervous eyes on the old man.

Cyrus forced the door open and stepped to the side to let his sister through. He pointed at Dan. “Don’t even think about giving him my room.”

Turning away before his brother could answer, he shivered out into the rain.

“Where’s your shirt, Tarzan?” Antigone asked. She wrapped the hem of her own shirt around her camera cases while they walked. The rain was fading.

Cyrus grunted.

“That lightning was crazy.” Antigone pointed at a new pothole. “It melted a hole in the parking lot.”

Cyrus didn’t answer. He was staring at the Golden Lady. She looked better than he would have thought possible — glowing, buzzing, hunting the sky.

Antigone followed his eyes. “When did that happen?” she asked. “Was it the lightning?”

“No.” Cyrus shook his head. “She came on when he leaned against her pole. Tigs, that lightning wasn’t normal.”

“Lightning never is. If it weren’t still raining, I’d film the Lady.” Antigone moved forward. “She looks amazing.”

Cyrus wiped the rain off his nose. Antigone shifted into a jog. “Hurry up. I want to look in his truck.”

Cyrus followed his sister, scanning the parking lot as he went. Lightning flickered silently behind distant clouds, and he felt his body tense. Everything had been moving so quickly, too quickly to understand. Mrs. Eldridge wasn’t just a half-cracked guest; she was all the way cracked. William Skelton had known his parents.

And he’d had a beetle that could call down lightning.

Antigone reached the truck.

“I wouldn’t open that!” Cyrus yelled.

She pulled open the door. “Why not?”

Cyrus caught up to his sister and stared into the cab. The seat was covered with old sheepskin, now worn down to flat wool. The passenger’s side was crowded with grease-dotted paper bags, ripped and folded atlases, paper cups, and a large metallic box that was probably a cooler. In the center of the driver’s seat, there was a small square of thick, rippled glass. Embedded inside, on its back with six legs folded in against its belly, there lay a single beetle.

“That’s a fat beetle,” Antigone said. “Is that what he meant? That’s your tip?” She reached for it.

“Don’t touch it!” Cyrus knocked away her arm.

Antigone faced him, raised her eyebrows, then reached up to flick her brother’s ear.

“Seriously, Tigs,” Cyrus said. “Don’t.” Antigone flicked, and Cyrus yelped, grabbing her wrist. “You don’t know what happened. Just listen for a second and don’t ask any questions. I have to get my head straight.”

Antigone pulled back her arm. “Your head?”

“My ears are still ringing, and I’m not sure how to say … nothing seems true right now. You’re not going to believe me.”

“Mr. Mouth can’t find his words,” Antigone said. “Should I take a picture?”

“Promise you’ll believe me,” Cyrus said.

“Maybe I will,” said Antigone. “There’s a first for everything.”

“Oh, shut up. You saw the lightning, right?”

“I did. Did you skip school today? And why were you late? I made Dan wait for half an hour.”

“Come on!” Cyrus slapped both hands onto his head, dragging them down his face. “Why now? I’m trying to tell you something.”

“No,” Antigone said. She pushed her short, wet hair straight back and then crossed her arms. “You’re trying to get me to believe something. That’s different. You want me to believe you? Hit me with the truth about school. And Mom. You never miss a Mom day.”

“Fine,” Cyrus said. “I skipped out of school today. Why wouldn’t I? And then I lost my watch in a stream and got back late. You should have waited for me anyway. Now will you please listen?”

Antigone refolded her shirt over her camera. “Why would anyone skip the last day of school? That’s what Dan wanted to know, and I think it’s a good question. All we did was mess around in class and clean out our lockers.”

“Exactly,” said Cyrus. “I glued my locker shut three months ago, and I actually skipped out early this entire week. Mrs. Testy Teal called to talk to Dan about it a couple days ago, but she got me instead. Is that enough truth for you?”

Antigone blew rainwater off her lips. Cyrus knew how this went. A lecture was coming. He watched his older, smaller sister try to look angry. They only ever fought, really fought, when she tried to be his mother, which she seemed to think meant never believing a word he said and hugging him in public.

A pair of headlights approached, slowed, and looped out around the station wagon.

“Cyrus Lawrence Smith,” Antigone began. Cyrus braced himself, but his sister’s eyes had changed. Her wide smile took over. “I can’t believe you glued your locker shut. Will they ever be able to get it open? They’ll probably have to buy a new one. What kind of glue?”

“Not important,” Cyrus said. It was hard not to smile, too. “I didn’t use a lot. It’ll pop open. Now listen to me, Tigs.” He pointed at the glass on the seat. “That’s a lightning bug. I swear it is. Not like a firefly. If you break the glass, it wakes up and then the lightning comes.”

Antigone’s hair fell forward. She brushed it back and scrunched her face. “You were right,” she said. “I don’t believe you. You’re worrying me, Rus. Did you get struck? Seriously. And if you hadn’t skipped school—”

“Seriously yourself,” Cyrus said. “Don’t start in on school again. And don’t call me Rus.” He watched his sister’s face. “You have to believe me.”

“No,” Antigone said. “I don’t. I don’t even believe that you believe you. You’re delusional. And shirtless. Probably concussed.”

“Fine,” Cyrus said. Leaning into the truck, he poked at the glass. No current. At least at first touch. Folding up a rag on the dashboard, he used it like a pot holder to pick up the glass. “Watch.”

“Not yours, Cy. Put the poor dead thing back.”

“It is mine. He said it was. It’ll come alive when I break it open.”

Antigone raised her eyebrows. “Like a cursed pharaoh?”

“Ha,” Cyrus said. “Keep talking.”

“Cy! Tigs!” Dan’s yell came from the courtyard. “What are you doing? C’mon! The Baron should be out of the road!”

William Skelton stepped beside him. Cyrus whipped the rag behind his back.

“Careful there,” the old man said. “Don’t waste another perfectly good bug. It took your father weeks to catch it.” He walked out into the parking lot and then down along the front of the motel, stopping at Cyrus’s battered white door.