Chapter 1: The Fall

The storm hit Maple Street at 3:47 PM, which I only know because I was timing the lightning.

Three chapters into The Hound of the Baskervilles (re-read number four, don't judge), and the first bolt cracked across the sky like the universe was trying to get my attention.

One-Mississippi. Two-Mississippi. Three...

BOOM.

Three seconds. That's less than a mile away. Close enough to make the windows rattle and Mom's voice echo in my head: Stay away from the windows during storms, Alex. Lightning doesn't care how curious you are.

But here's the thing about curiosity. It's not something you can just turn off. Trust me, I've tried. It's wired into my brain the same way other people are wired for sports or music or knowing when to stop asking questions that adults find annoying.

The lightning came in sets of three. Exactly twelve seconds apart. Three flashes, forty-second pause, three more flashes. I counted six full cycles before the rain started, which meant this wasn't a natural storm. Natural storms don't follow mathematical patterns.

"Alex! Get away from that window!" Maya yelled from downstairs, not looking up from her phone. My sister has perfected the art of sounding concerned without actually being concerned. It's a gift, honestly.

"The last bolt was half a mile away!" I called back. "I'm using the flash-to-thunder method! Five-second delay equals one mile, so..."

"NERD!"

"THANK YOU!"

The storm moved on at exactly 4:23 PM. Thirty-six minutes of perfect mathematical patterns. Someone had engineered this, I was sure of it. Which sounds paranoid, except you don't read 147 mystery novels without developing a nose for when something's off.

I grabbed my rain boots and jacket. The gray hoodie with all the pockets. The one Mom says makes me look like a teenage detective who thinks she's Sherlock Holmes. She's not wrong. I even have the atom-symbol t-shirt underneath because if you're going to investigate strange weather patterns, you should at least look the part.

"Going outside to investigate the aftermath!" I announced.

"Whatever! Don't die!"

Maya really needs to expand her vocabulary.

But here's the thing I pretend not to notice: as I headed for the door, I caught her glancing up from her phone. Just for a second. Watching me go with that expression she gets sometimes. The one that says you're weird, but you're MY weird.

"Hey." Her voice stopped me at the door. "Be back before dark, okay? Mom's working late and I don't want to explain why I let you get struck by lightning."

It was the closest Maya ever got to saying she cared.