Eye of the Storm by Kate Messner Read Free Book Online Page B

funnel as if some potter’s hands were shaping it, all the while spinning the wheel faster and faster.
    â€œDad, should we go downstairs?” I felt like we should. The storm was getting closer, and tree branches were starting to scratch against the porch roof in the wind.
    â€œSoon.” Dad stared at the storm, mesmerized. Then he squinted off to the west. “Or maybe not.”
    Another cloud was approaching, a big brother to the first, taller, with broader shoulders. When they met, it was like the younger brother flinched. The tornado lifted up from the ground and never caught its breath again. We watched, creaking back and forth as it rose slowly back up into the cloud.
    Then we sat and listened to the rain.
    Later, when Dad tucked me into bed, I asked where the tornado had gone. Most fathers would have made up a story for a kid my age, maybe something about God pulling on the rope, tugging it back to the heavens, away from us. A cozy-under-the-sheets, sleep-tight story. Mine gave a meteorology lesson.
    â€œSometimes, Jaden, a cold outflow of wind from a storm system can cause a tornado to dissipate.”
    â€œYou mean go away?”
    â€œYes. And in this case, it was that second thunderstorm that came and wrapped up the first one in its outflow.” He tucked the cool sheets around me. “Bet you can’t spin around now either.”
    I wiggled, and giggled, and Dad kissed me on the head. “Night, WeatherGirl.”
    â€œTwenty-five minutes left.” Van’s voice snaps me back to now. I open my eyes and stare at the blank box on my screen.
    I have an idea. It’s an old one from a hot summer night that feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s all I have, so I start typing.
    IF a tornado-producing storm collides with a second, larger storm . . .
    That’s a good start. There will be data from different-size storms loaded in the simulator. I can choose two that should work.
    THEN . . . Then what?
    I fly through the procedural steps, and I’m thinking how to state the outcome when Van calls time, so I simply type:
    PROJECTED OUTCOME: Tornado dies.
    â€”just as he steps down the row, takes the DataSlate from my hands, and adds it to the stack teetering in his arms.
    â€œWell, now,” he says, lining them up on the counter outside the safety box that encloses the real control panel. “This is an interesting collection of theories.” He picks up the first few and sets them back down without saying anything. “I can see we’ll need to work on experiment design. Some of these aren’t even in a format that could be entered into our dome software.”
    He moves on to the next DataSlate, which he reads and tucks under his arm, nodding. He goes through the rest of the slates and picks up the last one, too.
    He holds those up and turns to us. “We have two theories that are developed enough—not perfect, mind you—but developed
enough
to run on the simulator. Mr. Carillo?”
    Alex stands up.
    â€œCome on into the control chamber with me. Miss Meggs? You, too. The rest of you head over to the observation area behind the glass. We’ll explain each simulation on the microphone so you know what you’re seeing. Let’s find out if either theory holds up in the Dome.”

Chapter 7
    â€œCan everyone hear me?” Van’s voice booms out of the speakers, and on the other side of the room, behind the safety glass, the rest of the campers nod. He turns back to Alex and me. “Who’s first?”
    I look at Alex. Is his stomach churning like mine?
    â€œI’ll go first,” he says. Van stands up, and Alex slides into the chair in front of the control panels. “Do you want me to explain what I wrote?”
    â€œOf course.” Van adjusts the microphone.
    â€œMy theory involves storm dissipation,” Alex says. His voice echoes through the dome.
    Van leans in toward the microphone, glancing back at me.