Thankfully, Marisol does all the talking. “It’s going to rain big-time,” she says, pointing at the dark clouds. “There better not be any lightning.” She looks at Danny. “I’m petrified of lightning.” “Yeah?” Danny says. “Well, isn’t Florida like the ...
JULY. We crouched in the bushes outside Tommy’s bedroom. Lola heaved loudly, like we had just walked a mile instead of a hundred feet. She looked like she might cry, but as far as I knew, Lola hadn’t cried all year. “What’s going on?” I finally as...