Rain Reign by Ann M. Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

Atlantic Ocean on the improperly folded map of New England. Even so, I turn on WMHT. The newscaster says that Hurricane Susan is an extremely large storm and will reach our area by the next night.
    Isn’t it funny that right has three homonyms and night only has one?
    I stand in front of the cupboards where my father put away our supplies. I begin to count.
    16 rolls of paper towels
    24 rolls of toilet paper
    2 large packages of napkins
    4 packages of paper plates
    2 packages of paper cups
    I look at our food. I wonder if we have enough supplies for a power outage that lasts two days, four days, a week.
    I wonder what will happen if a tree falls on our house.
    I sit on the couch with Rain until it’s time to walk her and then we go to bed and I put my arms around her and feel her chest rise and fall as she breathes.
    I cross my fingers and touch them to Rain’s heart.

 
    17
    Waiting
    The next morning my father wakes me up by saying, “You’re in luck, Rose. School is closing at noon today.”
    This is an unscheduled change. It’s not on our school calendar.
    I frown and sit up. “Why?”
    My father is standing in the doorway, looking at Rain and me in bed. “ Why? ” he repeats. “Because of the storm you’ve been talking about all week. It’s supposed to hit sometime tonight.”
    â€œIf it’s going to come tonight, why are they closing school today?”
    â€œGeez, Rose, I don’t know. So people have time to prepare, I guess. Just go with it. You get half a day off from school, okay?”
    Uncle Weldon drives me to Hatford Elementary and Mrs. Leibler walks me to my class. Everyone is talking about Hurricane Susan, the superstorm. It has made landfall south of us. Four people are dead. Thousands of others have lost their homes. Towns are flooded. Power lines are down. The storm is headed north and is expected to make an inland turn.
    We live inland, we live inland.
    Susan is 74, which is not a prime number name, and I haven’t thought of a new homonym recently.
    After Mrs. Kushel takes attendance, she asks our class if we’d like to talk about the storm.
    Everyone says yes.
    â€œThis is the biggest storm in history,” Josh announces. He sounds pleased.
    â€œPeople have already died,” says Parvani nervously.
    I stand up and shout, “Two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen!” Before I can say, “Seventeen,” Mrs. Leibler is marching me to the hall.
    *   *   *
    Uncle Weldon pulls into my driveway at 12:17 p.m. Usually he drops me off and goes right back to his job, but today he has special permission to wait with me until my father comes home. Neither of us talks about the note from Mrs. Leibler. When my father opens the envelope later he will read about the prime number incident.
    At 1:21 p.m. my father returns from the J & R Garage and my uncle leaves. “We’ll try to stay in touch,” he says to my father and me. “Hopefully, the storm will miss us. Maybe this is a lot of hype after all.”
    â€œI’ll call you tomorrow,” my father replies.
    Uncle Weldon heads down the driveway and I hand over the note. My father reads it as we stand on the porch. He shakes his head. “Geez, Rose, why can’t you just say those numbers to yourself?”
    *   *   *
    My father stays at home the rest of the day. He stays at home after dinner too, Rain and my father and I alone in our house with the eight tall trees outside.
    I can hear wind now, and a little rain.
    My father turns on the Weather Channel and I sit across the room with my back to the television.
    â€œWe’re right in the path,” I hear my father say. “It can’t miss us.”
    â€œMorgan broke a rule today,” I tell him, without turning around. “She didn’t raise her hand, and she interrupted Mrs. Kushel.”
    My father doesn’t answer.
    â€œYou know who else