My story so far.

TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 … BRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINGGGGGG!!!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHH HHHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” 6th grade was over! 600 screams drowned out the squeals of the bus brakes in front of Thomson Middle School, as the 6th, 7th, and 8th graders ran down the halls, leaving behind the smell of disinfectant and the worries, stress, and the drama of Middle School. On the buses, the 8th graders cried, even the toughest of them, the 7th graders got a head start on picking on the 6th graders, and as the buses approached each stop the kids’ anticipation grew. Hornets and spitballs flew, and gradually they filtered out, each returning home to tell their parents about their last day, or go to a pool party at a friend’s house. In the back of every kids mind though, they were sad, even nervous or unhappy about the summer. Knowing of the vacations to see Grandma, or succumb to the embarrassment with your way-too-loud-aunt at the Italian Restaurant. With all the excitement and nervousness and dread, no one noticed the rolling, black, cumulonimbus clouds moving directly towards the town of Thomson. Nobody noticed the slight breeze that sent shivers up the spine, and the not so gentle scent of wet grass. Not one person turned on the weather that would have warned them about a certain freak blizzard in the middle of June.