Lightning forked across the afternoon sky. Thunder came after it. More streaks of hot white split the sky, more booms and long, slow-dying rumbles crashed around the little cabin. Larry ran inside, ducking under the branch of the tree in front of the screen door. He got drenched by the first drops, the thick, warm rain coating him just a second as the summer downpour caught him and his friends on the volley ball court.
“Look at that rain. Coming down in buckets,” Larry said. He stood close to the door, fascinated by the wild display of lightning. The wind gusted past, whirling the loose leaves and lashing the tree-branches against the cabin. “You can hardly see the lake at all,” Greg said. He stood next to Larry. looking at the storm.