omg

OMG

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

DID U SEE?

There was another in Wyoming!!!

A bigger one! It broke a barn!

!!!!!!

It was outside a town called Meeteetse

that town name is so cute

Do you know if the town is cute?

HAVE YOU BEEN TO MEETEETSE????

TESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

!!!!

ANSWER ME

Too tired to type, no Kennedy in sight, I told my phone to call Frankie on speaker.

“Did you see?” Frankie said instead of hello. She didn’t sound tired at all or angry that I’d yelled at her.

“I saw eight billion texts from you,” I said with a yawn. “I was up really late, and—”

“Isn’t it sick?” she interrupted excitedly.

“I guess,” I said, not really thinking tornadoes were that sick, but not wanting to make Frankie feel bad again.

“Have you been to Meeteetse, and don’t you think that town name is cute?”

She pronounced it like Ma-teet-see.

“No and yes,” I said. “Is that how you say it?”

“Of course.” She said it like she hadn’t just heard of the town a few hours ago. Frankie sighed heavily. “That’s disappointing you haven’t been there. I want to know if it’s cute.”

“That’s what the internet is for,” I said, eyes closed. “You can learn all about Meeteetse.”

“I know how to search the internet.”

“I know.” Why didn’t you just do that, then? “Did you go to sleep last night?”

“You sound like Mom,” Frankie said, her voice getting quieter like she was walking away from the phone.

“You sent messages in the middle of the night.”

She said something I couldn’t understand.

“What?”

Gobbledygook again.

“Frankie, come back to the phone. What are you doing?”

“Getting something,” she said, her voice louder as she returned to wherever she’d set down her phone. I heard a loud tink tink noise, then her voice was really loud, like she’d smashed her face against the microphone. “Is this better?”

I rolled my eyes, thinking that getting Frankie to focus on a phone call was harder than trying to get a golden retriever to do math.

“The tornado was an F3 with winds up to two hundred miles per hour,” Frankie said. “There’s a video of a moose just hanging out next to the demolished barn. Like, ‘Hi, guys, what’s up? I’m a moose.’” She laughed at her joke. I heard tapping, then she said, “There are only three hundred people in Meeteetse. Talk about teetse.” She laughed again.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry, but I have to go. I have to work on my project for camp. It’s the last week.”

“I know when your camp ends because you wrote it on my calendar,” she said in a loud, robotic monotone, breathing heavily into the mouthpiece.