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My name is Everson Tabler.

Oh, God, it was Braylin mad when I called him that night and told him we needed to talk about the one thing, the one thing in the world we'd sworn we would never, ever talk about.

Our cell reception was garbage, even though we were just on opposite sides of Rocky Mount,

because the wind was kicking up something terrible.

It had been on the weather report all day, the probability that some

leftover from tropical storm such and such was going to wreak havoc on us, even without

any more rain.

At first, Braylon said, no, he wasn't coming out.

So I had to confess that things were really quite bad,

and we'd probably have to do something that very night to fix them.

So we agreed to meet me at Hilltop High, where we used to go to school. It's right

between our apartment complexes pretty much, though he was on the Falls Road side of town,

and I was more toward Koki. I stepped outside and the wind hit me pretty much full force,

and I thought, first thing, okay, this is not going to work.

We won't be able to stand 15 minutes outside in this, much less three hours, four hours.

The trees in the courtyard of Glen Green apartments were blowing around so intensely I didn't want to pass between them.

They looked like they were going to topple.

A dominoes flyer sailed up from somewhere and hit me in the shoulder. This night, of all nights, for maybe the

worst wind I'd ever felt outdoors. Of course. That's how my luck's been all my life. The wind was

either all or nothing as I walked through the neighborhood toward the high school.

...