Chapter Thirteen
A storm wakes me early on Tuesday morning. I lie in bed and think of when I was little and I’d suffer through sweltering, sticky summer days at school, only to change out of my uniform the moment I got home and jump into the pool. Then I’d spend the afternoon doing homework with my wet, chlorine-infused hair dripping down my back, providing temporary relief from the heat. And then finally, as evening drew closer, clouds would gather, blown in on a cool breeze, and the sky would take on that oddly luminous look. Fat raindrops would start to squeeze themselves out of the clouds and plop down, sizzling on the still-hot concrete. And suddenly the heavens would tear open and unleash a deluge of water and electricity and house-shuddering booms. And we’d finally have the relief
