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It was raining something fierce, but my dad and i stood in watching the water rush into the gutter. It was days like this that made my head look like a cumulonimbus cloud. My parents would take one look at the curls that had gone from millions to one giant cloud and suck their teeth. Stormy weather. 

I could barely breathe for the joy of beating my dad in a popsicle stick race. Round one: We’d see who could clear the frozen juice off a stick the fastest. Round two meant racing outside to a puddle that sped into a stream where the road met sidewalk. We’d start at one end of the street, setting our sticks beside one another. “One, two…Nooo Avery, you’re cheating.” 

And something would go bright behind my eyes. Laughter barrelling through my body with unforgettable power. And I think the scene would go slow motion at this point. I’d dig my feet into the mud and look at the gray sky. Raindrops tickled and the grass made a popping sound when I squeezed my toes together. The wind made the air on my arms stand up, but I don’t think I ever shivered. My dad might rush toward me for a spin in his arms and sometimes we rolled on the ground. The ground smelled just right. 

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these are jelly fishes and idk what im typing or doing and im tired of this project even though im real excited

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