Waiting for the Storm Read Online Free Page B

smile in the rearview mirror.
    We all sat in silence staring up at the house. The air in the car grew hot and thick, but still we sat, as if frozen.
    Finally Ella wrenched her door open and got out, slamming it so hard the whole car rocked. “I’m going in.” She grabbed one of her two suitcases from the trunk and stomped off in the direction of the house, her heels teetering in the loose gravel of the driveway.
    I slid from the car and stepped around to the back. I was rearranging the bags to reach mine when I heard Ella yell “Shit!” from the front of the house. I peeked around the raised trunk and saw her standing on the second porch step, her bag half sunk through a large hole in the third step.
    I had a sudden, strong urge to laugh, so I ducked back behind the trunk where Ella wouldn’t see me. Guess the porch was as rickety as it looked.
    The car shifted as Dad got out, and a second later I heard the two of them struggling to free the suitcase. More stomping from Ella, followed by the nails-on-a-chalkboard shriek of the screen door opening. I knew Ella would hurry upstairs to lay claim to the best room, and since I had no intention of arguing with her I decided to give her a head start.
    Pulling my bag from the trunk, I walked toward the house, carefully maneuvering around the gaping hole in the porch step and watching for places the wood might be rotting. Dad had been so scattered lately, I had a feeling he’d forget to call the repairman and it would fall to me like everything else did.
    I made a mental note to do it tomorrow.
    The inside of the house was in better condition than I’d anticipated. It looked like somebody had cleaned recently, and it didn’t smell musty, as I’d expected it to. Lilah must have aired it out in preparation of our arrival.
    The door opened into a wide hallway that branched off into the kitchen on the left and the living room on the right. I tugged my bag along behind me as I glanced into the rustic but spacious kitchen, then across to the living room. It was almost as big as our living room back home, although I had a feeling it looked much the same as it had when Mom spent summers here. The furniture was outdated but comfortable-looking, and there was one of those huge old TVs with a built-in cabinet from the ’70s.
    The rest of the details of the room were lost when my gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors across the room. I wound my way between the couch and chairs and unlocked the latch, pushing the glass open and breathing in the fresh air. The door opened onto a sturdier looking porch than the front, and led straight down onto the beach. The water was so close I could hear it lapping against the shore.
    I felt my lips twitch slightly. It had been so long since I’d smiled for real, it was like my muscles had forgotten the act of proper smiling. I may be afraid of open water, but I had no problem being near it, just as long as I didn’t have to go in it. I hoped the fresh air, sunshine, and the sound of the water would be what I needed to get me back on a regular sleep schedule. Mom joked that I’d become an insomniac, but I knew my screwy sleeping habits had worried her, and that she’d blamed herself.
    Filling my lungs one more time with summer-scented air, I decided Ella had probably chosen a room by now, which meant I could go see what was left. On my way to the stairs I noticed a hall off the kitchen, and upon exploration discovered a bathroom and a large bedroom, where my dad was currently sitting on the bed staring straight ahead.
    “Sorry,” I said when he saw me, his expression momentarily blank. It scared me how quickly he went from being okay to being Zombie Dad. “I didn’t realize there was a bedroom down here.”
    He nodded slowly and glanced around as if just realizing where he was. “I’m going to sleep down here,” he said. “You girls can have the upstairs to yourselves.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied my face, and he shook his