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Show Twisters . . . 102 Note: This final chapter might be set in italics or type which differentiates it from the rest of the book. No chapter heading would be needed. I guess we were lucky that Grandma still had a house. And a table-one that pulled out to seat six extra people. The Darlingtons, being such a big family, were forced to split up after the tornado. Stacey moved in with her friend Evelyn; Arthur spent most of the summer with me on the farm. Ronnie Vae, who didn't eat or speak for three days after being thrown into the Winegar's bushes, ended up in California visiting her cousins. They said she wouldn't shut up once she got there. Every night on the farm, after a backbreaking day's work in Grand Island, Arthur and I konked out on Grandma's sun porch. If the mosquitos weren't too bad, we carried our mattress outside and slept under the stars. One rainy, windy night the whole bunch of us took shelter in the storm cellar with the spiders and the mice. We were all pretty nervous, though Grandpa's dog, Princess Fleabag, was the biggest coward down there, shivering and howling when the wind reached a certain pitch. Even with my arms around her she wouldn't calm down. "I may just sell out and go to Arizona!" Grandpa said in disgust, as he lit the kerosene lantern for us. Nobody believed him. He was third generation on that farm, had seen hay straws driven through trees before. He wouldn't pull up his roots any more than we would. As it turned out, nearly everybody who lost a home did the same as the Darlingtons and the Hatches. "What else can we do," Dad said to Grandpa, "but clean up and start over?" |