“
You remember that documentary they showed us in sixth grade? The one about Hurricane Katrina?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, remembering how we’d all piled into the media center to watch it on the big, pull-down screen. I don’t recall much about the movie itself, but I’m pretty sure Brad Pitt had narrated it. “What about it?”
"I had nightmares for weeks. I have no idea why it affected me the way it did.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “Ever since, well…let’s just say I don’t do well in storms. Especially hurricanes.”
I just stare at him in stunned silence.
“You’re going to have fun with this, aren’t you?”
“No, I…of course not. Jeez.” How big of a bitch does he think I am? “I’m not going to tell a soul. I promise. Okay? What happens in the storm shelter stays in the storm shelter,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.
His whole body seems to relax then, as if I’ve taken a weight off him.
“Did you seriously think I was going to rag on you for this? I mean, we’ve been friends forever.”
He quirks one brow. “Friends?”
“Well, okay, not friends, exactly. But you know what I mean. Our moms used to put us in a crib together. Back when we were babies.”
He winces. “I know.”
“When we were little, things were fine. But then…well, middle school. It was just…I don’t know…awkward. And then in eighth grade, I thought maybe…” I shake my head, obviously unable to form a complete sentence. “Never mind.”
“You thought what? C’mon, don’t stop now. You’re doing a good job distracting me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Call it a public service. Or…pretend I’m just one of the pets.”
“Poor babies,” I say, glancing over at the cats. Kirk and Spock are curled up together in the back of the crate, keeping the bromance alive. Sulu is sitting alone in the corner, just staring at us. “He’s a she, you know.”
“Who?”
“Sulu. Considering she’s a calico, you’d think Daddy would have figured it out.
”
”