“I could tell,” said Mom. “She seems mature for her age, and she seems to love you.”

That word should have made me squirm, but it didn’t. I loved Jasper too. I nodded. “Well, anyway, thank you.”

“Next time she comes over, she should stay for dinner. So Dad can meet her too.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Well, I guess that was all I wanted to say.” It wasn’t, of course. Things felt so soft and safe in the kitchen, better than they had in a long time, and I wanted to spill everything that was inside me. I wanted to tell them about Jasper, and her mother, and her sister. I wanted help for her, and also, I think, I just didn’t want to carry the secret alone. But I didn’t say any of that. I couldn’t. I’d made a promise, and so I only said, “Good night.”

“Good night, Leah,” said Mom, as Dad took the last sip of his wine and rose to set the glass on the counter.

In that moment, the air felt electric. The kitchen windows filled with blinding light. The hairs on my arms buzzed, and a split second later, the house shuddered with a massive crash of thunder. I gasped and looked around at Mom and Dad, who both looked alarmed too. Somewhere nearby, I heard branches breaking.

And then the lights blinked off and the room was totally, totally dark.

“Oh God,” I said.

“It’s okay, Leah.” Dad’s voice was certain, soothing. “Probably just a limb hit a power line. But it feels like that was right over the house. Let’s wait a sec and see if the lights come back on.”

We all stood still, in the absolute darkness, waiting. Outside, the storm sounded much louder now. Rain pummeled the window, and the panes shook from giant gusts of wind that seemed to have come out of nowhere—blowing hard, then softer, then harder again. After a minute, I heard a chair scrape against the tile.

“Mom?” I said. “Dad?”

“Right here, kiddo.” A hand fell on my shoulder.

Then I heard the gas jets on the stove flare on, and Mom was lighting a candle that she’d found somewhere and walking it over to me, putting her arm on my shoulder too.

“Why don’t we all just go to bed now?” said Mom in a soft voice. “It’s late, and Dad and I have work in the morning. The lights are sure to come back sooner or later.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Sure,” said Dad. “Just let me check and make sure there isn’t a tornado watch first.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled around in it, and for once it made me feel better to see that. “Nope,” he said after a minute. “It just looks like a really bad storm. Maybe it’ll pass quickly.”

“Let’s hope,” said Mom. “Now bedtime.”