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Show Twisters . . . 52 things that were blowing loose, I fell a couple of times. We were so intent on sweeping both sides of the street with our lights, we sometimes crashed into each other in the dark, "Mom . . . Mom!" I tried yelling at first, but the wind shredded my words. She'd never hear me over that howling, spitting storm. Once my heart leaped. I thought I saw her. A figure caught on my light . . . someone thin, wearing jeans, hanging onto the back door of a van. When a man and a boy appeared and I recognized Jason Miller from school, I knew the lady wasn't my mom, but his. They shone their light at us and Jason's dad yelled "Who is it?" We slowed, answered back. "Have you seen my mom?" I shouted. They looked at each other, shook their heads. Closer now, we could see they were inspecting their "Miller's Plumbing" van that had been slammed against a tree in their side yard. Jason, shirttails flapping, appeared stunned at the sight of us running by. Until Stacey got hit in the face with what she thought was a flying shingle, we hardly stopped at all. Then we had to. We made her sit down on the curb so Arthur could inspect the welt rising on her cheek, but Stacey only pushed him away. "I'm okay, you guys, really," she insisted, though she was blinking hard. I knew she was hurting. "I can take Ryan," I offered as I gulped in the air, "want me to?" "No, he's fine." Stacey hooked her hair behind her ears, sniffling a little, then awkwardly got to her feet. She hitched the baby up in place again, "Look, Dan--" she pulled me over, "-just look at him," I shone the light so I could see Ryan peeking out from inside her dad's jacket. |