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Authors: Maria V. Snyder

Storm Watcher (14 page)

BOOK: Storm Watcher
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“He’s okay. What answer did you get for problem two?”

They solved proofs until Jacob and Scott burst into the kitchen.

“We came to check on the lovebirds,” Jacob said.

“Puppy love is so cute,” Scott said. “I bet their hands accidentally touch while they picked up poop. Love at first scoop.”

Luke ignored them, but he worried about Megan. She was fresh blood, and she had been coming long enough to no longer be considered a guest. In other words, fair game.

Megan’s brown eyebrows pinched together in thoughtful confusion. “How old are you?” she asked Scott.

“We’ll be seventeen in May. Why?” Scott asked.

Luke had to fight to keep from smiling. It was the middle of January.

“Juniors, right?” she asked.

They nodded.

“You have jobs. Drive a car. You’re both training to be SAR volunteers. Right?”

Jacob and Scott exchanged puzzled looks.

“I was just making sure,” Megan said. “You’re acting like a couple of fourth graders. I thought I was wrong about your age.”

They stammered.

“Maybe you’re just mentally delayed.” She tapped a finger on her lip as if considering.

They didn’t wait around to hear the prognoses.

“Awesome.” Luke high-fived Megan across the table.

She laughed. Both in a good mood despite having to do proofs, they finished their homework. When Megan heard her dad’s voice in the living room, her smile disappeared. Without another word, she packed her books.

Luke had only met Megan’s dad a couple of times. Mr. Duncan had the same dark hair and eyebrows as Megan, but his fashion sense matched Alayna’s. He dressed like one of those clothes models in the glossy flyers in the Sunday paper. According to Megan, Alayna had been thrilled by their dad’s arrival.

Megan’s dad acted nice. If Luke hadn’t known about the stolen puppies, he probably would have been taken in. As it was, Luke felt uneasy in the man’s presence.

“Come on, Meggie. Time to go,” Mr. Duncan called.

Luke and Megan entered the living room.

“I still can’t figure out why the electricity doesn’t work,” Mr. Duncan said to Dad. “I’m sick of using the wood stove and kerosene lamps. Can you stop over sometime and help me?” He glanced around the room. “I’ll pay, of course. You could probably use the money.”

And where would Mr. Duncan get the money? By stealing more puppies? Luke waited for his father to explode.

Instead Dad said, “I’ll give you a call,” in that flat, dangerous tone.

Megan’s father had no clue. “Great. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He waved good-bye and ushered Megan through the door.

In the silence that followed their departure, Luke searched Dad’s face.

“Idiot.” Dad shook his head.

“You’re not calling,” Luke said.

“You got that right.”

Due to an especially snowy January, Luke missed a number of school days. He started bringing Lightning home every night and then returning her to Willajean’s before school. To avoid getting caught, Luke let Lightning outside for a bathroom break after Dad went to bed. In the morning, he waited until Dad had left for work.

One night in mid-January, Lightning woke Luke from a sound sleep. She whined and pawed at his arm. The clock read 2:20 a.m.

Groggy, he blinked at her for a moment. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, giving her the quiet signal.

She jumped off the bed and stood next to the door. Her impatient jiggling cut right through his sleep fog. Lightning needed to go out. Now.

Groaning, Luke rolled from bed, then picked her up. He crept downstairs because Dad’s bedroom was next to the stairs. He let her down, grabbed his coat, and shoved his bare feet into his cold and still damp snow boots.
Ugh
.

A blast of icy air hit Luke as he opened the door. Lightning dashed through his legs and into the snow-covered yard. Luke flipped on the back porch light. Snowflakes swirled in the beam of light. Pulling his coat around his shoulders, Luke stood on the porch, waiting for her. He hoped Hounddog and Moondoggie wouldn’t bark.

“What are you doing out here?” Dad asked.

Luke jumped. “Ah! You scared me.” His heart slam-med in his chest.

“Sorry.” Dad waited.

He thought fast. “I’m…um checking the snowfall.” He gestured to the ruler he had buried in the snow during a previous storm. “Seeing if there’s enough snow for school to be canceled tomorrow.”

“And you had to do this now?”

“Yeah. I…uh couldn’t sleep.” Luke kept his gaze on Dad, but silently willed Lightning to stay away.

“Well?”

“Oh. Only a couple inches so far, but we might get more by morning.”

“Come inside, it’s freezing.” Dad shooed Luke into the house. He closed and locked the door. “Go back to bed.”

“Uh, I’m going to heat up a glass of milk. Maybe that’ll help me sleep.”

Dad gave him a long look. Unable to keep still, Luke broke eye contact. He hung up his coat, filled a glass with milk, and put it into the microwave. Guilt over lying to Dad warred with fear. And a part of Luke wanted to get it over with so he could have it out with his father. They hadn’t spoken much since the whole dog fiasco. So Luke didn’t know where he stood with Dad.
Does he still hate me?

Dad finally said, “Don’t be up too late.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Luke waited until Dad’s bedroom door clicked shut before checking on Lightning. She sat on the porch. Snowflakes clung to her long hair. He let her in and dried her off before taking her and the warm milk up to his room.

Unable to sleep, Luke stared at the ceiling, his chest tight with an uneasy feeling. He should ’fess up about Lightning. Except Dad wouldn’t let her stay, and Luke wouldn’t be able to face his empty room. He’d have to sleep in the kennel with Megan.

Megan still avoided her dad. But Mr. Duncan kept trying to spend time with her. Unlike his dad. Luke guessed he’d have to make the first move. Too bad he had no idea how to do it.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Megan leaned against the locker next to Luke’s.

“No.” Luke pulled out his science textbook. “But we have until February first to pick a topic.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

Oh no.
“I’ve got nothing. You took the best idea.” He slammed the locker door shut.

“You can’t use it. It’s against the rules.”

“I know.” Everyone knew Dad did search and rescue so Luke had to find a science fair project that didn’t copy one of his dad’s professions. Parents were allowed to help, but they couldn’t be experts.

Megan frowned. “Then why are you mad at me?”

Because he needed an excuse to hang out with his dad. But he couldn’t say that to Megan.

“Sorry.” He zipped his backpack. “Are you going to bring Lance to school for the science fair?”

Mentioning dogs always made her smile. It worked.

“If I’m allowed. I’m gonna make a poster on how to train a SAR dog, then have a few of the tools needed on display, and to top it off, I’ll demonstrate the technique to the judges with Lance.”

“Isn’t it risky to use Lance? He might slobber all over the judges,” he teased.

“You’re just jealous ’cause there’s a blue ribbon in my future.”

“No way. My electric potato is gonna rock the house.”

She laughed. “I hope you come up with a better idea than
that
.”

He hoped so, too.

“Think of what you’re good at, Luke.”

“That won’t take long.”

She swatted his arm. “You’re good at math.”

“Jenna’s better.”

“Okay, I give up. Have fun with your potato.”

CHAPTER 13

Spare Parts

In a panic, Luke read through the science fair rules again that night. The instructions suggested project ideas, but nothing interested him. Finally, he made a list of his skills. Math, science, and dogs. He’d gotten pretty good at training the papillon puppies in tracking. But Megan’s project was too close.

He tried another tactic. What would he want to do when he grew up? He’d like to own a kennel like Willajean’s someday. Own a farm with cows, sheep, and chickens. He’d install a big Doppler radar system instead of a little weather tower.

The weather tower
.
Excitement built inside him. They’d been collecting data since he fixed it. Maybe he could use the data to… What? He’d need years worth of data to predict weather trends. He could compare her tower’s readings with the National Weather Service’s data, but what would that prove?

Another idea hit him. He dashed downstairs to get the instrument manuals he still hadn’t returned to Willajean. Maybe he could make his own instruments and compare them to Willajean’s tower.
How hard could it be?

Sitting at the kitchen table, Luke read through the wind speed manual. Building one would be difficult. Unless…

Luke grabbed the manuals and went out to the living room. Dad sat at the desk, paying bills.

“Uh…Dad.”

“Yeah?” He typed a few numbers on the calculator.

“I thought of a science fair project.”

“Uh-huh. That’s great.” Dad ripped a check off and stuck it into an envelope.

Luke crushed the manuals to his chest. “I’m gonna build an electric potato.”

“What?” He glanced at Luke, scrunching up his nose so his reading glasses wouldn’t slide off.

Now that Luke had Dad’s full attention, he explained his idea about building weather instruments. “Can you help me?”

“Sure, buddy. It’ll be fun.” Dad smiled at him.

With that smile, some of the tension between them melted. But happy and guilty emotions mixed. Dad didn’t know Lightning was upstairs sleeping on Luke’s bed.

The next day Dad brought a bag full of electrical supplies home for their weather station. After dinner they rummaged in the basement for more supplies. Luke decided to focus on building wind speed and direction sensors.

They dumped their odd collection of gadgets onto the kitchen table.

“Now we need a design,” Dad said.

“We can copy the instruments on Willajean’s tower.” Luke suggested.

“We could, but that would be boring.”

Luke glanced up in surprise.

“Think about it. Both sensors spin and use magnets to create an electrical current. Maybe we can combine them into one instrument,” Dad said.

Luke considered. They’d need something that spun with the force of the wind, but that would also rotate to point out the direction of the wind. “An airplane,” Luke cried. “With the propeller measuring wind speed, and the body of the plane pointing to the wind direction.”

“Good idea. You have a head for engineering. Not like your brothers, who think an ohm meter is used for measuring the thickness of hair gel.”

Smiling, Luke sat a little straighter. Maybe Dad would teach him more about electricity. That would be cool.

They worked on their weather instruments every night for the rest of the week.

“We don’t have a fancy computer processor,” Dad said when Luke wondered how they would record weather data. “We’ll have to make do with some old-fashioned equipment.”

“Such as?”

“You tell me. It’s your project.”

Luke thought about it. Wind direction was basically a compass point so a metal circle underneath with the directions marked should work. He etched in the sixteen compass points so he would be able to record the direction. As for wind speed… He tapped his pencil on his lips. An ohm meter had a spinning magnet generating an electrical current so it should be able to measure wind speed. Luke could then calculate how fast the wind was by the strength of the current. Faster wind equaled more electricity.

On Saturday morning, Luke and Dad connected their homemade instruments onto Willajean’s tower. Lance, Lightning, and Hurricane had trotted after them. They played in the snow, while Luke and Dad worked.

After they finished, Dad watched the pups. Lance looked out of place with his darker coat and long legs.

“They’re cute little fuzz balls,” Dad said.

Luke quickly added, “And smart, too.” He called them over and told them to sit, go down, and roll over. All three obeyed.

Dad’s gaze returned to the weather tower.

Nothing special about those tricks. Time for some fun. Luke pointed to his nose. The dogs stared at him with their undivided attention.

“Tag,” he said. “Lance is it.”

Lance surged to his feet and chased the other two. When he butted Hurricane with his nose, Luke called, “Hurricane’s it.”

Hurricane spun and took off after Lightning. The dogs played tagged with Luke’s help. Lightning was never it for long. She could even catch Lance. Luke beamed at her. When he stopped the exercise, Luke had Dad’s interest.

BOOK: Storm Watcher
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