I’m fifty percent worrying and fifty percent excited about what it’s going to look like out there when morning comes.

I open my window a hand’s width so I can hear the sound of the rain that’s not really rain. No one is saying what will happen if the blue moving water streaming over Bower Hill Road can’t be stopped. When he drills a well, Dad always tells people you can never have too much water, but this water can’t be controlled with a shutoff valve. So I worry that once the sun is up, we might see what too much water really looks like.

Chapter 8

The larger the meteoroid, the brighter the meteor. The brightest ones are known as fireballs.

—Heather Couper and Nigel Henbest, Space Encyclopedia

“HENRY, WAKE UP.” James is standing by my bed. “It’s crazy out there. There’s a helicopter in Nana’s yard. And it looks like a town meeting in your house. Here, your mom said to give you these.”

He hands me a pile of folded clothes that are still warm from being next to the wood stove.

“The newspaper people are outside ready to interview your family, but your mom said they needed to wait for you.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty. Our neighbors across the road told us about the flood this morning, and Dad let me ride my bike over. I can’t believe how much water there is down there.”

I put on the warm pants, socks, and flannel shirt. I’m still thirsty, but it’s the first time in days I’ve felt dry.

“What’s it doing?” I ask James.

“Still flooding the road. It’s moving really fast.”

All I remember hearing when I woke up during the night was the sound of the water through my window. I didn’t even hear the helicopter land on top of Bower Hill.

It does look like a town meeting in the house. There are maps spread open on the kitchen table. The people crowded in the kitchen have shirts and jackets that say emergency management and forest service and maine state police. The town manager is there, too, and some of our neighbors. I smell coffee and something sweet.

“You slept well, Henry, even with all this commotion?” Mr. Emery, the town manager, asks me.

“Yes, I think the water put me to sleep,” I say.

I look for my coat and hat. They’re hanging by the wood stove, so they’re warm, too. Before we go outside, I pull off one of the two round magnets holding Birdie’s cloud drawing on the refrigerator. I center the remaining magnet so the picture hangs straight and put the other magnet in my front coat pocket.