Chapter 38
Pane
Rowe jumps up from the floor, where she’s surrounded by pigs. She throws her arms around my neck and holds me tight. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I was so worried.”
I hug her with Tallulah tucked under my arm. “Not even a tornado could keep me from you,” I joke, butnotjoke. “I brought a friend that you might be missing.”
She takes Tallulah and hugs her close. “Where did you find her?”
“She ran up to the truck when I pulled in.”
“And Stella?”
The unicorn neighs nervously. “Was with Tallulah.”
Rowe balks. “What?”
Stella steps into the shelter, dragging her chain behind her.
Rowe runs a hand down her leg. “She must’ve gotten scared and pulled it from the wall. But whatever. It doesn’t matter how, just that she’s here. Come in.Come in.It’s a tight squeeze, but we can do it.”
Rowe coaxes the unicorn inside, and I grab the door to shut it. The screaming wind changes in pitch. The sound becomes deafening, resembling a freight train.
The hairs on the back of my neck stiffen.
The tornado is here.
Tree branches and leaves fill the air. Twigs scrape against my arms when I grab the door. Tiny shards of leaves wedge themselves into my eyes, blinding me. It’s impossible to see, and all I can hear is the blaring tornado as it bears down on the farm, and I pray that, God willing, the storm jumps over the Wadleys and spares us.
Through the grit filling my eyes, I manage to see enough to find the knob and pull the door tight.
The silence inside the room is somehow more terrifying than the howling outside. Rowe puts Tallulah on the floor and moves to me. I wrap my arm around her, hugging her close as we both listen to the storm.
Beside us, Stella blows out air. The unicorn takes up most of the room. The rest of us are wedged together, but the piggies don’t seem to mind.
They’ve found the starfizz berries and are keeping their mouths occupied.
I wipe debris from my eyes and look down to see Rowe smiling at me. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For getting Tallulah and Stella.”
My arm tightens around her. “You’re welcome.”
Above, I hear a crash. Even though the noise is muffled, it sounds and feels like the earth is being ripped apart. The shelter trembles and shivers like the wind is doing its best to grab hold of it and yank it right out of the ground.
Concrete spills from the seams in the ceiling, sprinkling my hair and shoulders. The single bulb in the center of the compact space flickers.
Rowe holds her breath.
This could be it. We could die here. The top of the cellar could be ripped right off and all of us sucked into the storm.
I will not die without having told Rowe how I feel about her.
My grip on her tightens just as she wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. I pull her in, inhaling her sweet scent, and cradle her head.
“If we die here—”
“We’re not going to die,” she says, sounding muffled and not very sure of herself.
“You need to know how I feel.”
