So that was how all three of us walked down the hall together. Mom was on my right and Dad was on my left, and they both kept their hands on my shoulders. Connected that way, the three of us stumbled in the darkness, with our candle, until we reached my room.

Then they were tucking me into bed, both of them. Patting my head, like I was little again, but I didn’t complain. I only said, “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams,” said Mom.

“The sweetest,” said Dad.

Then they shuffled out with the candle, back to the hallway, and off to bed. Together. Arm in arm. I lay there under my covers and watched them go as the room turned to pitch. I snuggled down under the blanket and closed my eyes. I tried to sleep.

But with the power off, there was no air-conditioning, and the room quickly got hot and stuffy. Outside, the storm didn’t let up. It got worse and worse as I tossed and turned, kicked off my covers. Thunder growled overhead, and wind whipped the house, spattering the window beside my bed with bullets of rain. Now and then, I heard the cracking sound of branches breaking above the house, followed by the thunk of wood hitting the roof; and each time lightning split the sky, it was so bright I could see it through my eyelids, no matter how tightly I squeezed them shut. Then, somewhere close by, a cat started yowling, and I realized I hadn’t seen Mr. Face all day.

I sat up and stared through the window, searching. It was hard to make out anything at all. The clouds blocked the stars and moon, and even the streetlights were dead. But things were definitely happening out there. I could feel them. There was so much going on in the sky and the air and the trees. I heard the cat again, screaming.

So I climbed out of bed. I raised the window, and the screen too. I stuck my head out. “Mr. Face?” I shouted into the blowing wind, as rain needled my tired eyes. Even here, under the overhang of the porch, the rain was falling sharp and quick, nearly sideways.

“Mr. Face!” I didn’t want to wake my parents, but I doubted anyone, including the stupid cat, could hear my call over the wild thunder and the windy night. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

No luck.

I thought again about Jasper, alone in her house. I hoped her solar battery had lasted this long. Maybe for once she had light, while I was in darkness. I tried to imagine her cozy, under the blue blanket, with lights twinkling around her. Maybe she had fallen asleep before the storm got so bad. Maybe she could sleep through it.