My house didn’t look like my house any more. The windows and the door were already covered by rollcages of metal wire, stapled across the front like a mask.

There was no sign of Mum or Dad anywhere. The garage door hung open, and a single light bulb swung inside. My bike stood leant against the wall, rattling in the wind.

‘There’s my bike,’ I said, pointing it out to Callum. ‘I’ll start bringing the boxes of repellent down to the shelter – my parents could be home any second.’

I walked over to the garage door and silently opened it.

‘Really?’ said Callum behind me. ‘Shouldn’t you … come with me?’

I stopped, and turned round. Callum stared at me. In the swinging light, he suddenly looked very alone.

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I have to get the boxes.’

Callum nodded. ‘Yeah, well – do it quickly, alright?’

He grabbed the bike, and raced out from the garage and into the street.

The house inside was still, and silent, and dark. Nothing but the moaning of the sirens outside and the wind on the windows.

‘Mum?’ I called out. ‘Dad?’

Silence. There wasn’t a moment to lose. I ran into the kitchen, throwing open the laundry cupboard. The boxes of repellent were stacked up in the back – enough for my parents to never notice a few missing …

‘Looking for something?’

I startled, and swung round. Mum and Dad stood in the unlit kitchen behind me. I could just make out their faces, stony and calm and somehow unreadable in the dark. I shook the twitch out of my neck.

‘M-mum!’ I said. ‘Dad! Er … no, I wasn’t looking for anything at all …’

‘Where have you been?’ asked Mum.

Her voice was calm, but with a note of panic hidden inside it. She stepped towards me, her arms crossed. I swallowed.

‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘I’ve been at Ceri’s. I just got ba—’

‘We’ve just come from the Dewbridges’,’ said Mum. ‘They said you were never there in the first place. They said she spent the day at her friend Pete’s.’

My stomach dropped. I looked at my parents. I still couldn’t see what their faces were doing in the darkness. I suddenly began to feel very uneasy.

‘I can explain,’ I said, stepping forwards. ‘You see …’

‘Don’t lie to us, Owen!’ said Dad, his voice suddenly high-pitched. ‘We know where you were today!’

My heart froze. ‘You … you do?’

Dad held a trembling hand to his face. ‘You were … you were …’ He could hardly bring himself to say it. ‘You were climbing trees again, weren’t you? Admit it!’

‘After everything we’ve said!’ Mum cried.

The two of them stared at me in the darkness of the kitchen. I looked between them, my heart beating. Outside, the wind whined.

‘You’re … you’re right,’ I said, shaking my head regretfully. ‘I admit it. I was climbing trees. I’m so sorry, Mum and Dad. I’ll never do it again, I swe—’

Before I knew it, the two of them had leapt forwards and grabbed my arms and legs, lifting me up into the air. I stared at them in horror.

‘Wait … what are you doing?’ I gasped.

‘Quick!’ Dad wailed desperately. ‘Before he tries to climb any more trees!’

Together they hauled me out of the kitchen and started dragging me up the stairs. I thrashed hopelessly in their grip.

‘Stop!’ I cried, kicking and heaving. ‘Where are you taking me? Stop!’

They flew through my bedroom door and slung me onto the bed. I sat up in disbelief. The bed was surrounded by sandbags and chicken wire. The carpet on the floor had disappeared. So too had the posters, the toys – everything. The windows were boarded up. It was the same miserable bedroom where the next day I would spend my 11th birthday, writing under the bed.

I swung round to face my parents. They stood in the doorway, their eyes wide and mad.

‘W-what have you done to my bedroom?’ I cried.

‘We’ve made it safe, Owen!’ said Dad, wringing his hands. ‘There’ll be nothing that can hurt you now!’

‘There’s no chance of you climbing any trees now – not in here!’ said Mum.

My stomach dropped. I had never seen either of them look so frightened before. I suddenly understood what Callum was talking about – my parents had gone completely insane. I leapt towards the shutters and tugged at the handles. They rattled hopelessly in my hands.

‘That won’t work, Owen,’ said Mum. ‘They’re locked from the outside. You don’t ever need to be frightened again, angel!’

‘It’ll just be for a while,’ said Dad desperately. ‘Just a little while. Until we can be sure you’ll be safe. Until everything’s safe again.’

I leapt to my feet. ‘Wait – what do you mean …?’

‘We’re locking you in your bedroom, darling,’ said Mum. ‘Until the storm has gone.’

‘Until the beginning of the next school year, actually,’ said Dad. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

I stared at them in disbelief, and stepped forwards. ‘What?’

‘Quick!’ said Dad. ‘Lock the door, before he tries to get out!’

Mum gripped the door handle and swung it shut. I stumbled desperately over the floorboards but I was too late. The door slammed shut, and the lock turned. I jiggled the foam handle hopelessly.

‘Mum! Dad! Please!’

I hammered and hammered against the door, but it was no good. They weren’t listening any more.

The wind suddenly picked up outside, pounding against the house and rattling the shutters like angry ghosts. I pressed myself against the door, my heart pacing with fear. And yet at that moment, what frightened me wasn’t the wind, or the dark, or even the realisation that my parents had lost their minds.

It was the thought that my friends had no idea what had just happened. They would wait for me tomorrow night. And when I didn’t turn up, they would think I had deserted them. That I had let them down. That I was a coward. And they would leave without me.

And the one chance I had ever had in my life to be a daredevil – to be a real-life Tornado Chaser – would be gone forever.

The last of the clouds covered the sun, and my bedroom was thrown into darkness.