"Get a grip, wimp,"
Sonja huffed. "Screaming like a little girl? Really?" Sonja's self-chastisement did nothing to alleviate her embarrassment or her anxiety. She hated these storms; they triggered a deeper gremlin.
Breathe.
It was day, but the storm's gloom had left her room dusky and shadowed. She wafted her phone flashlight around her room like a lighthouse beam. The electronic light was ridiculously reassuring.
Seconds later, Sonja heard creaking and uncertain footfalls on the stairs.
There was someone in the doorway.
"Sonja? You there, baby? I thought I heard a scream." Her mom, Jenny, appeared, also phone-lit. Dean, Sonja's stepdad, was two steps behind.
"Everyone okay then?" Dean's tone suggested concern, but he didn't wait for an answer. "Let's go find candles, batteries, and proper flashlights. I'll search the garage and the basement. You two search the rest of the house." Dean quickly took charge of the situation.
He should know. It's his house. Sonja kept the thought to herself and complied wordlessly. She began rummaging through kitchen drawers while Jenny foraged in the laundry room down the hall.
They found they were shamefully ill-equipped for an outage. Sonja located nubs of old birthday candles, a lighter, and a handful of stray batteries with unknown longevity rolling around in a drawer.
"Wrong size," Jenny told her, plucking the lighter from her hand.
"You find anything? You were in there a while." Sonja crossed her arms in the darkness.
"One D battery," Jenny chuckled. "But I found these lovely, tapered candles in the dining room, so we're saved for the moment." She sparked the lighter and rolled the wick of one taper in the flickering flame. She handed the candle to Sonja and lit her own from the first.
"We can get supplies tomorrow if we still need them. It'll be fine," Jenny said. "You won't die from one night without your video games. It'd probably do you some good."
The wavering flame twisted Jenny's smile into a sardonic smirk.
"Conserve your phone power," Dean told them as he arrived on the scene, shaking a dead flashlight.
Nodding, Sonja knew her phone and the sad assortment of candles they'd dredged up wouldn't last long. She retreated to her room with her single candle and sulked in the stormy gloom. No TV, no internet, no music, no gaming. Not even any warm food or heat. Only her and her parents.
Misery.
It didn't take long for Sonja to exhaust her pitiful library of dog-eared comics and tween graphic novels. All her other books were electronic or in her school locker. So, there she sat, slumped on the fraying cushion of her window seat, with gangly adolescent legs outstretched, book abandoned in her lap. Looking but not looking.
The slow, uneven ratcheting sound of the garage door opening drew her attention. Next, she heard the deep rev of a car engine followed by a rapid ratcheting, ending with a sharp thud.
"Who is that?" Sonja wondered out loud as she rubbed her eyes to focus. Sheet lightning flicked across the sky, and she caught a glimpse of Dean's taillights rounding off the end of the drive and speeding onto the main street.
"In this? Where the hell is he going?" she found herself mumbling. She quickly checked her phone, "Great. It's only been an hour. I'm going insane. Stop talking to yourself, Sonja. Stop referring to yourself in the third person, Sonja." She rolled her eyes.
Sonja popped off the window seat and headed to her bedroom door. As Sonja reached for the knob, it turned noiselessly beneath her hand. The door began to creak open. Sonja stopped breathing, immobilized, eyes wide.
"Sonja, baby, just checking on you," cooed her mom.
"Good God, Mother! Don't ever do that!" she yelped.
"Sorry, were you scared? I thought you might be afraid by yourself in the dark," Jenny chuckled.
"Not funny. I'm not ten. Where did Dean go? I thought I saw him leave. Didn't he notice it's kinda nasty out there?" Sonja said, trying to regain her composure.
"Um, he needed to go back to the dealership for some paperwork and thought there might be supplies for us there too," Jenny said nonchalantly.
"Right." Sonja rolled her eyes in the darkness, but her mom still seemed to see it.
"No, really," Jenny replied defiantly. "I told you about this already, Sonja. This is getting really serious, and he needs to check some documents, okay? You know how he is about his dealership."
"Obsessed? Neurotic? Zealous?" quipped Sonja.
"He's obviously upset. You think a little rain is going to bother him?"
"A little rain? Mother. The power is out. Trees are falling. And yeah, I noticed he's upset. Nothing's worth going out in this. Is he crazy? So what if he's having some work problems. He's already stupid rich. It's only a dealership."
"Not to him. And cool it. You have it pretty good here. Great house, a nice room, and you have friends. There's that girl—the one with the hair," Jenny said, snapping her fingers.
"Wow. You've got quite a keen eye there, Mother. Yes, I have a friend with hair. Now, if only I could go somewhere with my friend—" Sonja smiled and heard her mother vent a deep, exasperated sigh.
"Why do you even bother asking?"
Fair question. The answer never changed, but Sonja felt almost obligated to keep asking. Hadleigh wasn't terrible, exactly. It just catered mostly to the over-fifty and under-ten crowds. If you were stuck in the limbo of high school, you needed the escape of gaming, friends or—a car.
A car meant freedom.
But Dean never let Sonja or even his boys touch any of his six precious motor babies nesting in his garage. They ranged from the predictable BMW 7 Series in stealth black to the self-glorifying vintage models, including his most prized possession, the 1969 Dodge Charger.
Even Dean Jr. hadn't managed to wrangle so much as a used vehicle from his father. Jenny's cherry-red Miata MX-5 convertible—a wedding gift from Dean—was also, of course, off limits. Sonja loved the way it hugged sharp curves. She couldn't wait for the next couples' night event for another adventure with Phoebe.
"Listen, we obviously won't be fussing over dinner; the whole town is out. So, no take-out either. I'll throw something together when Dean gets back. Okay?"
Jenny turned and closed the door behind her, not giving Sonja a chance to object. Sonja shrugged and sighed. Before making it back to her bed, she'd already whipped her phone out of her back pocket, texting app at the ready.
Sonja: somethings wrong they're fighting
Phoebe: bad?
Sonja: yeah
Phoebe: why what's happening
Sonja: IDK she's lying
Phoebe: just try and stay out of it. U OK?
Sonja: not great. U?
Phoebe: I'm ok chillin with Len. No parents yippee
"Oh yeah." Sonja smiled. How had she forgotten her best friend had been on her own since last night? Phoebe's parents had gone somewhere exotic for the break and left her to take care of the house and their ancient dog, Lenny, the useless black Lab, as she called him. Phoebe, her fellow homebody, had naturally offered to stay behind. She and Lenny had essentially grown up together, and now, she said, he needed her.
Sonja: I shoulda come over
Phoebe: ya idiot :)
Sonja: TTYL loser
Sonja clambered back into bed with a broody sigh and fixed her gaze on the low dancing flame of the taper candle on her side table. Her eyes followed the slow slide of melting wax droplets, drawn to the candle base. The gloomy greyness of her room grew darker against the flickering flame and the trickling drops. The sound of rain. The scent of lilac.
Sonja snapped awake just as Dean's headlights crept up the drive. The garage door creaked and groaned unevenly as Dean yanked the pull handle, drawing it closed. Slow footsteps were followed by the distinctive clicking of Dean's office door.
Is he going through drawers in his office? Is that mom in the kitchen?
Every noise sounded so intense and random in the dark. Sonja wasn't going to check. Better to stay out of it, like Phoebe said. She didn't want to end up in the middle of things. At least for now, there was no more barking from Dean, no more muffled, frenzied arguing. Just the odd clinking or shuffling to interrupt an otherwise overwhelming silence and a taut peace.
© 2026 Nerissa Murray. All Rights Reserved.