Rain Reign by Ann M. Martin Read Free Book Online

later when you’re asleep,” my father says at last. Then he asks, “Were you scared about the storm or did you get confused?”
    â€œI wasn’t scared,” I say.
    He frowns at me and then he grunts. Unh . “Look, the storm won’t get this far. The weather people just like to make a big fuss so everyone will watch their show. We might get a little wind and rain. That’s all.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go to bed now?”
    â€œBecause it’s too early.” My routine calls for walking Rain in forty-five minutes, then changing into my pajamas, and after that going to bed.
    â€œWell, don’t think about the storm.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI think I’ll go out for a while.”
    â€œOkay.”

 
    15
    Where We Live
    While my father is back at The Luck of the Irish I think about the superstorm named Hurricane Susan. I wonder how many miles Hatford is from the Atlantic Ocean. I need to see a map, but I don’t want to turn on the Weather Channel again. I sit on the couch in our quiet house and pat Rain for a while. Then I remember that there used to be a map of New England in our garage. I put on my sneakers and use a flashlight to shine my way across the yard to the square white garage. Rain comes along, walking so close to me that I can feel her shoulder against my leg.
    I turn on the garage light and find the map. It’s on my father’s workbench and is not folded up properly, the creases going in the wrong directions, which makes the map puffy, not flat. I spread it out on the workbench, fold it back up the right way, then spread it out again. I put my finger on Hatford. All of the state of Massachusetts and a little of the state of New York are between my finger and the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe my father is right. Maybe we live too far inland to be bothered by a hurricane. But why was the newscaster on WMHT warning us about the superstorm?
    I refold the map, making sure the creases are in the right directions, and Rain and I leave the garage and walk back to the house. I sit on the couch again. I think about Hud Road and my neighborhood.
    Here are some facts about where I live:
    1. The buildings on Hud Road are The Luck of the Irish, the J & R Garage, the house where I live with my father and Rain, and our garage. That is all.
    2. Our house is on a little rise of land. The yard slopes from the house down to Hud Road, and Hud Road runs downhill to the J & R Garage and The Luck of the Irish at the bottom.
    3. There are eight very tall trees in our yard. Four of them are maples, two are oaks, one is an elm, and one is a birch. Behind our house are woods.
    4. There are a lot of small streams in our neighborhood. They do not have names. The biggest of them runs alongside Hud, in between our yard and the road. It flows underneath the little bridge at the bottom of our driveway. I have never seen more than 10.5 inches of water there. The other little streams begin farther up Hud Road and feed into the one in front of our house, which rushes down toward the bottom.
    These facts are not as interesting as homonyms or prime numbers. They are informative only. But you will need to understand them when you read later chapters, such as “Chapter 19: Rain Doesn’t Come When I Call,” which takes place the day after Hurricane Susan.
    I finish thinking about Hud Road and our neighborhood. It’s time to walk Rain. Later, when I’m in bed, listening for the sound of my father’s car in the driveway, I hug Rain to me. We live inland, I say to myself. This must (mussed) be (bee) good. I say it over and over.
    We live inland, we live inland, we live inland.

 
    16
    How to Get Ready for a Hurricane
    It’s Monday when my father says the people on the Weather Channel just like to make a fuss so that everyone will watch their show. On Tuesday he frowns a little and says why can’t the Weather Channel people be more specific