Me and Aunt Odie stood on the porch a long minute.
The blue OPEN light went out.
Overhead, the storm eased up. The sun tried to push through but couldn’t make a break past the clouds. I smelled wood rot.
I stepped into the yard as Aunt Odie said, “I don’t think so,” and plowed on back into Paulie’s house. Not even knocking, mind you.
“He’s gone,” I said. “He took that raincoat—”
“Like hell he is.”
The door slammed behind Aunt Odie.
A breeze rushed past. Tugged at my curls. Swirled. Twisted. Tried to pull me with it.
Then, “Now, Odie,” I heard Paulie say. His voice was a whine.
“You saw something,” she said. “I saw you see it. The lightning. That blast. I saw you see!”
I was a tree rooted to the porch. Listening in. Mist swirled around. Crawled up my legs. Fog rose from the earth. Tangled with the breeze.
“You know I didn’t.”
“I know you did.”
There was a shuffling sound and I heard whispering, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I leaned closer to the open window. The curtains from inside strained against the screen to get to where I stood.
“What?” Aunt Odie said. The sound of her voice stilled my blood. “What? Are you kidding?”
The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall, and my aunt hightailed it outta that place, like someone had set her afire.
Just in case Beelzebub had been revealed to her, I followed Aunt Odie lickety-split.