When Lightning Strikes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 5: Moving Memories (Part 2)

Julie woke up the next morning, stretched, and got out of bed lazily. She threw on her  robe and went downstairs to the kitchen to find a late breakfast. She clicked through her phone as she went, seeing the last of the texts from friends talking about the shooting.

It was late when she finally got home. It was several hours before the police released her and her brother from the hotel. Dad came to the hotel to be with them as they waited and stayed with them while they were questioned by the police.

Her family was gathered around the kitchen island. Mom was leaning against it, munching on toast. Her brother and dad were on the stools finishing up large plates of food based on what was left on the counter. It was disgusting that they could eat like that and not get fat.

Yawning, she walked across the cold tile floor over to them. They all stopped talking and turned to her as one, faces looked serious and drawn.

 “Jamie, can you let us talk to Julie privately?” Her mom’s brows always drew together when she was worried.

“Sure.” He gave her a gentle punch on the arm as he went by. It was his signal that everything would be okay. Julie stiffened. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what was coming.

“Here.” Dad pushed a plate of eggs and toast towards her. “Eat up. Then we’ll talk.”

Julie took the seat her brother had left, ate a few bites of eggs, and picked up a piece of toast to munch on. Her parents stayed quiet. It was odd. Mom was never this quiet.

“Okay, what is going on? You are all starting to freak me out a little.”

“Well…there is no easy way to say this.” Her dad rubbed a hand over his face as if preparing himself for something unpleasant. “So here it goes.”

He paused again, glancing at Mom, who nodded once and looked away from them both. Julie took another bite of eggs.

“We are moving, leaving Atlanta to move back to the island we grew up on.”

Julie spat the eggs out. “What?”

“We are going to move. As soon as possible.” Her mother got a sponge to clean off the counter as she talked. “This week. Tomorrow, if we can do it.”

“What? Why? Tomorrow!” She felt as if all the breath was knocked out of her. This was their home This was where all their friends were. This was where their school was.

And most importantly, this was where her dance studio was.

She knew the island they were talking about. There was nothing there but a few stores, the two schools, and fancy houses. There was nothing there for her. Nothing at all.

A buzzing noise filled her ears, and she swore that she felt the inside of them vibrating. Dad was talking again. Taking a few gulps of air, she tried to catch what he was saying.