“The duality of weather.” I lift my tripod and walk in the direction of the storm, wanting to get closer. “The beauty is a contrast to its destruction. It can take away a life in the blink of an eye, but I also feel most alive when I hear a crack of thunder. When I stand out in the rain. It feels wrong to … to romanticize it, but I’ve always been this way. Long before I made it a career.”
“It’s the only thing humans can’t control.” Sebastian walks beside me. His long stride matches mine, boots kicking up dirt as we march on. One of his laces is undone. The tongue is hanging out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Chaos, personified. “Makes it even more desirable, doesn’t it?”
“Are you the one who’s secretly attracted to tornadoes?”
“You got me, Pres.”
“Someone in the comment section is asking if we have a green screen behind us because it’s not raining. Wall clouds, like the one you see up ahead, don’t produce rain. It’s beneath the main storm updraft and—”
“Think we’re going to get a touchdown.” Sebastian stops abruptly and spears the dirt with the legs of his tripod. “The moisture feels good.”
“You can’t honestly tell that from being out here, can you?”
“I can’t?” He tosses me a grin. “Nah, you’re right. The monitoring station hooked up to my old truck at my mom’s place helped me out.”
“There’s no way you still have that thing. It’s almost fifteen years old.”
“Thatthing?” He sounds appalled. I’m glad. “Her name is Okie. She might be shitty, but she was with me during my first chase.”
“Okie?You named your monitoring station?” I shake my head. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Listen up, kids.” Sebastian changes his position, nearlypressing his face against my phone again. “It’s Science Time with Seb. A mobile mesonet, which is the monitoring station Quincy is talking about, takes observations of temperature, humidity, wind … all those important factors in and around a storm. I named mine Okie, after the meteorological students at the University of Oklahoma who created a statewide monitoring network. Mine is shit compared to the professional ones, but she gets the job done.”
“We’re here for weather, not a history lesson, Dunn.”
“We might not be here for that either.” He lifts his chin in the direction of the storm. Frustration dances behind his eyes. “Funnel cloud is gone.”
“Dammit.” I sigh, shifting attention to my show and trying not to be too disappointed. “Sorry, y’all. These things happen all the time. Tornadoes can dissipate as quickly as they form, and it’s a bummer we didn’t get to see anything today.”
“What are you talking about, Monroe? Your viewers got to see me.” He flashes me another grin. His eyes are bright again, dimple sharp. His chuckle is breathless, carefree. Euphoria from the chase ebbing back to reality. “That’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to them. I bet it’s going to be your highest-watched show of all time.”
I dig my elbow into his ribs, proud when his chuckle turns into a groan. “If anything, I’m going to lose followers. They’re going to be sad they had to stare at the back of your head for so long.”
“We’ll see. I’ll make sure to collect my royalty check.” Sebastian pauses when we get to our cars. His rented SUV is a gaudy, fancy thing, with silver rims and a fully digital dashboard I can see through the window. “You heading out?”
“Yeah. Radar didn’t show any other storms having rotation today, so I’m going to get some work done at home.” I hold up a finger his way and look at my phone. “Thanks for tuning in, y’all.I’ll be back tomorrow. We’re going to talk about the wave off Africa that could turn into our third named storm of the year. Be kind. Take care of yourselves, and I’ll chase ya later.”
I stop recording and end my show. I wiggle my phone, popping it out of the tripod holder. When I glance up, Sebastian is looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing. You’re staring at me like I have four heads.”
“Maybe you do have four heads, Pres. I’m just reminiscing.”
“On what?”
“This.” He points to the sky, the clouds that are breaking. The sun making a reappearance and the breeze starting back up. “Being out here in the moment, you know?”
“I’m confused.” I lift my tripod and dust dirt off the legs. I fold the pieces up, making it compact and easily portable. “Your job is constantly being out in the moment, isn’t it?”
“Not like this.” His sigh is heavy, with a hint of strain. He runs his thumb along the links of his silver chain, distressed. There’s a droop to the corner of his mouth. Wrinkles across his forehead. Torn on telling me more, but he cuts off the thought with a shrug. A tiny part of me aches to know what he’s talking about, but I’d never admit it. “This is different.”
“Okay.” I pop my trunk and slide the tripod inside. I pause before I slam it shut. Something in my chest tugs, ties itself into a knot, and makes me ask this next part. “Is it a good different?”
“Is that your contribution to our Truth or Dare game because your earlier question was shit?”
