Tornado Brain by Cat Patrick

Author:Cat Patrick [Patrick, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2020-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

chapter 13

Fact: It’s possible to have a tornado and a hurricane at the same time.

TESS AND I stared up at the two-story redbrick building where we spent so much of our time: Ocean View Middle School.

“What time is it?” Tess asked, her arms wrapped around her middle, hunching over. I don’t know why some tall girls do that. I wouldn’t: I’d stand up straight and touch the ceiling to see how it feels.

“Four fifteen,” I said, putting my cell back in my pocket.

“Maybe this is a bad idea. We could get in trouble.”

“We won’t,” I said casually.

“I’m seriously so nervous right now,” Tess said, biting her nail. “I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack.”

“You won’t,” I said, because she had never had one.

“How are you not nervous?”

I shrugged. “I don’t get nervous.”

Sometimes I think that twins get unequal traits, like one gets all of something and the other gets none of it. Tess got all the nervousness and artistic ability and niceness and I got all the . . . I don’t know what I got.

Not wanting to think about that, I walked up to the front door of the school and yanked it open.

Tess’s eyes widened. “It’s unlocked?”

“Some of the teachers work weekends,” I said, shrugging again.

“How did you know that?”

“Because of when I did that Saturday kite-making class.”

“What if they see us?” Tess asked, looking completely freaked out. I didn’t know how someone who loved haunted houses thought going into our school on a Saturday afternoon was so terrifying.

“We could say we forgot a book or something?”

“How did you think of that so quickly?” She was still frozen outside the door.

“I just did,” I said impatiently. “Are you coming or not?”

“Ohmygod,” Tess whispered as she walked through the door I was holding open. I followed her in. She looked down the hall to the left, then the right. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Good! Let’s go!”

I started walking down the main hall toward the lockers for our grade. The gym where Colette had made the singing-dare video was just beyond our lockers. Tess followed me instead of walking next to me. Once she and Colette tricked me into watching a horror movie where the girl who went last got killed first: I didn’t remind Tess of that. She didn’t seem in the mood to be scared—any more than she already was. We went by classroom after classroom and they all had their lights off. They weren’t dark—just dim—because it was still light out, and they all had windows. The storm clouds had cleared.

“Maybe Principal Golden’s here,” I said.

“I hope not!” Tess whispered.

“When did you turn into such a scaredy-cat?” I said. This wasn’t normal for Tess.

“Shhh!” she whispered. “Be quiet!”

“No one’s in the hallway,” I said in my regular voice.

“Frankie, stop it!”

“Fine,” I groaned, walking in silence for a few minutes. But then, without warning, I became very aware of my socks crowding and tickling my feet inside my shoes; the scratchiness of the tag in my sweatshirt at the back of my neck; the elastic gripping my wrists.

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