The Hurricane

Movement inside the house startled him out of his optimistic revelry. Daniel straightened and turned toward the door. Despite the welcoming hand-lettered sign, he wanted to make sure it was okay, especially since he had so many items begging to be recharged.

Lumbering up the stairs, he found the front door propped open, a screen door shut against the bugs. Daniel knocked on the wooden frame of the door.

“Coming!” he heard someone say. Daniel heard feet stomping through the house. He remained on the stoop and adjusted his backpack.

A tall man with a smiling beard arrived at the door; Daniel recognized him as Anna’s father, or at least the man who had interrupted their soldering and had been working with her on the roof.

“Is that Daniel?” the man said. He pushed the screen door open and Daniel stepped back and out of the way.

“Yessir,” Daniel said, stunned that her father knew his name. But that meant she’s been talking about me, Daniel realized. His heart leapt with the idea that this lovely sprite with magical powers of soldering had uttered his name—

“Ah, yes,” her father said. “I asked Anna who her little helper was, but all she had was a name. Come inside. I’m Anna’s father, Edward.”

Daniel digested all that information, feeling himself sink and deflate as he did so. The conversation between father and daughter took a more realistic aspect: Who was that? A shrug. Some creeper named Daniel.

He suddenly felt like bolting through the screen door and sprinting down the street.

There was thunder on the stairs, followed by the squeak of bare feet on clean floors. Anna ran around the corner, her longish brown hair twirling behind her in fine wisps. “Cool,” she said, beaming at Daniel. “You brought your stuff?”

Daniel hooked a thumb in his backpack’s shoulder strap. The fear and hesitation he’d felt from the risky visit melted. It was as if Anna had been expecting him, or at least anticipating his return.

“Just a few things,” he squeaked.

“Bring ’em outside,” she said, hurrying past him and throwing open the screen door. “I’ll get back to my studies in a little while,” she called to her father.

Daniel smiled meekly at Edward, lifted his palms in a shrug, then turned and pushed open the door that had just cracked back on its springs against the jamb.

“Let’s see what you got,” Anna said. She crouched by the open doors of the little shed and waved her hand impatiently. Daniel hurried over and set his backpack on the walk. He rummaged for each device and paired them with their chargers.

“A Zune, eh?” Anna picked up his music player and squinted at it, then looked up and squinted even harder at Daniel, like she was looking past some glaring flaw to see if she still approved of him.

“I woulda pegged you as an iPod kinda guy.”

The way she said it made it sound as if she might’ve disapproved even further of that.

“What do you use?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t really do music,” she said. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stared at Daniel. He saw for the first time that her eyes were green. He memorized that in case there was ever a quiz between them, some marital dispute about how little he truly knew her.

She turned away and reached inside the small house. “Looks like you two are done.” She unplugged the two devices on the shelves and moved them to a separate waiting area.

“Are those yours?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her hair was so fine, it laid so silky flat on her head, that Daniel could see the shape of her skull beneath. He admired the way the back of her head curved out like a bowl and swept back to her neck, which was half exposed by the parting curtain of brown locks. Her skull seemed loaded with brilliant nerve endings, like Daniel could just cup it in his hand and feel the electrical shocks zap his palm.

“They belong to the Michelsons across the street,” she said, turning to face him. “My dad has a cell phone, but he hasn’t even tried to turn it on.” She held out a palm and curled her fingers. “Lemme see your chargers.”

Daniel handed them over one at a time. Anna took the time to check the back of each, reading out the wattage and nodding.

“What were you saying about studies?” Daniel asked. “Is your dad making you do schoolwork?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “School might be closed for you, but mine’s still standing.” She glanced up at the brick face of her house.

“You’re homeschooled?” Daniel asked.

Anna frowned. “You say that like I belong to some kind of satanic cult.”

Daniel laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s not that, it’s just that I was wondering why I’ve never seen you around school.”

“Oh.” She studied the last power brick. “Four point two watts,” she said, “so you have a total of just under seventeen.”

“Is that bad?” He couldn’t believe he was crouched down so close to her, that they were just talking, like they’d always known each other.

“It’s fine. I think the panel and inverter can handle around twenty.” She looked up at the sky, which was scattered with only the barest of gossamer-thin cirrus clouds. “I’d say these’ll be done by lunchtime or a little later.” Daniel handed her the cellphones and Zune one at a time, and Anna inserted the plugs that fit each one.

“So I should come back around then?” Daniel pictured coming over and grabbing the devices without her help. The thought depressed him. He looked across the street at another house full of people he didn’t know. He thought it was likely that a good-looking boy lived there who was also homeschooled and was Anna’s boyfriend. He felt the dangerous urge to ask her if she was seeing anyone—

“Come back at noon,” she said. She stood up and rested her hands on her hips. Daniel fumbled with the zippers on his backpack, then slung the now-light sack over his shoulder. “If you want, you can eat lunch with us,” she said. “It’s nothing special. We’re just having some salad to use up the tomatoes and cukes that survived the storm.” She frowned. “Of course, you don’t have to, you can always just pick up your things whenever—”

“Of course,” Daniel said. “I’d love to.” He nodded. “Noon.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a salad, much less as an entire meal, but it sounded like the most appetizing thing in the world right then.

Anna smiled. She held out her hand. Daniel grabbed it and felt her pump his arm up and down. “See you then,” she said.

20

Daniel practically skipped home, his hand and cheeks burning. The sweat from the humid Beaufort air stuck his shirt to his chest and back, but hardly bothered him. The awkward goodbye, the way Anna’s perfect eyes had darted about while waiting for him to accept her invitation, the handshake: Daniel was thrilled with the stiffness of it all. It was like every stuttering encounter he’d ever had with the opposite sex, but this time it had been mutual! She was almost as awkward as he was.

He ran past one of the brush piles and breathed in the air of injured timber and tree sap. He was pretty sure he was in love. His legs felt at once light and powerful with it, as if he could run a marathon. His brain tingled with the newness, the feeling of being let in to some august and exclusive club. He suddenly knew what so many others must’ve known for much longer. He could feel his hatred and envy of Roby dissipate. Even as he no longer cared about the storm’s aftermath or the loss of power, he desperately wished for some temporary line of communication, some way to tell his best friend that he was no longer a loser for not having a girlfriend and that Roby was lucky to have someone as well.

“Oh my god,” Daniel said to himself, slowing to a walk. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Some girl had invited him to share some salad for lunch, and now he was wondering if it would be better, for their future family, to have a boy first or a girl first. There were good arguments for both ways. An older brother