The fishing trip fiasco earned him the longest punishment in all of Henry's life. By the time he emerged from his coat closet it was the summer season holidays. Henry felt mixed feelings about summer. Of course the weather was nice in Newcrest and school work wasn't on his mind. However, in the summer, Curtis and his motley crew were free to pester and torment on Henry as much as they'd like. Which was pretty much twenty-four hours a day. Simdependence Day was always fun...the fireworks and the like...but there was an air of excitement for September. Henry was done with primary school and beginning his journey as a first year at a secondary school. This was a big step in any kid's stage of life. The best part? Curtis was going to Uncle Vincent's old school, Smurlings School for Boys. Ross was going as well along with the other in Curtis' normal crowd. Henry, on the other hand, was going to Newcrest Academy. It was local so the Dooflys could snatch him away if he misbehaved but away from Curtis...again...away from Curtis.

"It's the wimpiest school in all the worlds," Curtis had commented when Uncle Vincent made the announcement. "It's for nerds and geeks and dweebs and morons."

"Perhaps we have time to still fill out your application? Surely you qualify for that last bit, eh?" Henry replied smartly but quietly enough that Mr. or Mrs. Doofly couldn't hear him. It took Curtis to process for a good second before he went red and more than a little sweaty. Faster than Henry would have liked, Curtis ensnared the smaller boy by his collar and pulled him close. Henry remained calm.

"I hear they string up first years by their tighty whities the first day...raise them up right there on the flag pole for all to see," Curtis was grinning devilishly. "Shall we practice, eh mate? I know there's a flag pole in Fern Park."

"I don't think we can mate," Henry's mind was buzzing, "you see, it's not worth the trouble hoisting your fat arse up the flagpole, just to watch it bend in two!" With both hands, he shoved Curtis backward and took off into a sprint to run from the house down the street. Curtis, Uncle Vincent, and Aunt Daisy were both screaming for him to come back, but Henry only laughed as his feet carried him further down the road.

One day in July, after Simdependence Day, Aunt Petunia took Curtis to San Myshuno to buy his Smurlings uniform. Henry was to stay with Ms. Snealy. She was in better spirits after her case of the sickness. She also was not in the mood to talk about her children, much to Henry's delight. Apparently, her youngest was the one that passed the bloaty head to her.

So instead, he was in her musty living room watching the television and eating a weird concoction she put together that was not as horrible as many before it. I guess banana pudding on graham crackers can be a treat...if the graham crackers in question didn't taste four months stale.

Curtis looked absolutely atrocious in his new uniform that he paraded proudly in the Doofly's sitting room that evening. Henry briefly wondered just how much pressure you could apply to one's lower lip to stifle giggles before you could draw plasma. Smurling's School for Boys had a uniform that called for vomit colored pinstripe suits with oversized tailcoats, shorts that stopped just above the knees in a putrid rusty hue, and ashy black boiler caps that flattened Curtis' top head almost as comically as if he were wearing a showercap. What's more, all Smurling boys are required to carry fancy walking sticks. For posture? Compensation? Who knew, but any one with a brain knew that the brutes just used them to smack each other when teachers weren't looking...or place them in inappropriate places to symbolize inappropriate appendages.

"I don't think I've ever been prouder, my Watcher son you look like a man!" Uncle Vincent actually was shedding a tear which Henry didn't believe any liquid could come from those eyes except for metaphorical liquid anger and resentment. Aunt Daisy stared slack jawed with tears freely flowing. Her bottom lip was trembling engredously.

"MY BABY!"

Henry didn't think his body could physically conceal this much mirth any longer so he thought better of speaking. Instead he awkwardly upturned his two thumbs and nodded vigorously wondering briefly why in the world he was invited to this nightmare of a fashion show.

The next morning, Henry woke to loud sounds of fabric ripping.

RRRRIIIIP

RRRRIIIPPPPPP

He made sure to dress himself before coming into the kitchen. Aunt Daisy was there, with a pile of brown fabric. Her eyes rose to meet Henry's briefly before she sighed in sheer annoyance at his presence. Mrs. Doofly always had a way about her in knowing when the nosy, no-good Puffer was about to ask a stupid, sniviling question. She wished she could amend the DUH Rules to permit Henry from asking any questions but she knew he'd go off and find a smart way to use it to her loving family's disadvantage. Like, she thought, he wouldn't be able to take over the cooking for her because he wouldn't be able to ask how to turn on the stove...and the like. Her thoughts frustrated her to the point that she dropped her fabric and slammed her tiny fists down with a muted thunk.

"If you must know...Newcrest Academy calls for plain white, collared shirts, black trousers, black socks, and a crimson ascot. Boring. Dull. Not like my Curty Wurtlekins's outstanding and sophisticated ensemble of dress!" She lost herself in the wistfulness of her son for a half a second before her features fell dark again as she appraised Henry. "I'm not buying you new, boy," it came to Henry's ears like a slap. "Ms. Snealy says she needs the hobby and doing it for nothing. All I need to provide is the material. I've got it from my Vincent's golf shorts, Curty's primary recital shirts...and my nightgowns…" as she trailed off, Henry suppressed a gag.

He was not going to argue, but a pain in his heart began to throb at the knowledge that whatever uniforms Ms. Snealy was going to Frankenstein together for Henry was going to make his first impression in secondary school a total nightmare. He was going to look like he was absolutely mad.

"Curtis, dear? Get mommy the mail, please?"

"Not a chance, mother. I can't miss the commercial break," Curtis said from the armchair in front of the TV. His Smurling walking stick was leaning against the sidearm. He carried it everywhere he went now. "Make Henry do it."

"HENRY! The mail!" She wasn't even looking up from her project, and Henry was standing literally five feet from her. He felt smart.

"Make Curtis do it."

"VINCENT, dear! Instruct Curtis to smack this boy a good one with that Smurling stick, hm?" Mrs. Doofly said with a sing-songy, motherly tone.

"You heard your mother, boy," Uncle Vincent said, not looking up from the newspaper.

A beefy hand shot out to make for the stick but Henry thought better and turned on a dime towards the front door. On the doormat below the mailslot sat bills, magazine subscriptions, a postcard from Vincent's sister, or Curtis' Aunt Midge. Suppose her vacation to Sulahni was treating her well. Dear Watcher, the image of what that woman would look adorning a bathing suit made Henry gag for the second time that day. The pile had weight to it this morning and when he sifted through again his heart skipped a beat and outright doubled in rhythm. Henry had a letter? He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck spike in excitement and with trembling hands he brought it to the front of the pile. In all his ten years of life Henry had never gotten an email, junk or otherwise. Who would write to him? His only friends may have been those minnows all those months ago and fish certainly cannot write. He belonged to no clubs or organizations to invoke letters of reapplication either. And yet here it was...a letter. Addressed so outright you could never miss it. He began to read:

Mr. Henry Puffer

The Closet next to the Bathroom

3 Oak Alcove

Bridgeview

Newcrest

The paper was dingy and old. Like it was soaked in coffee and laid to dry. The elegant calligraphy was written in deep emerald ink. It had no stamp.

With a turn, he barely could hold it in his shaking grasp. There was a red wax seal with what looked like a coat of arms from medieval times. A llama, an owl, a rabbit, and a fish surrounded by a large letter 'H.'

"Do you move in slow motion, boy? Get in on with it!"

Dragging his feet with his nose in the letter, Henry emerged from the foyer into the sitting room. Uncle Vincent was impatiently staring at him and Mrs. Doofly paused her fabric tearing to collect what Henry had retrieved. She didn't notice that Henry was still holding his letter as he handed her other other pieces.

"Ugh...your sister, Midge got a fungal infection on the beach and enclosed a picture," Aunt Daisy informed her family, "what in the world are we…"

"HEY! How did HENRY get a letter?!" Curtis shouted as the credits rolled from his cartoon. "DAD! MOM! Henry has a letter and is keeping it SECRET from you!"

"Am not!" Henry snapped but the adults were already on their feet and towering him.

"What's this," Uncle Vincent snapped and quicker than he looked, ripped it from Henry's fingers and gave the young boy a paper cut in the process.

"OW! Uncle Vincent that's mine!"

"Who in their right mind would be writing to you? You don't have anybody," Aunt Daisy sneered. She was bobbing up and down on her tiptoes to also see the curious letter. As Uncle Vincent's eyes finished scanning the letter the most terrifying but otherworldly thing happened.

A vein so large near Uncle Vincent's temple began to appear so angry it made Henry queasy. His face went from red, to green, to white, to almost as gray as a lump of used cat litter. He began to sweat so profusely Henry was sure the letter would be soaked through and useless in no time. Mr. Doofly also seemed to go boneless and his hand that clutched the letter fell limp at his side. He began to waver on his large feet and Henry made a move to take the letter but Aunt Daisy was too quick with the interception. Then the stammering began.

"B-b-b-but...w-w-w-we...w-w-w-w-were...s-s-s-s-s-o...c-c-c-aref-f-ful…"

Aunt Daisy had a similar reaction but her face went straight to white as a sheet. She totally lost her footing and dramatically ended up having her body flung on the sofa. The letter was in her outstretched hand and she began to moan as if she was in agony. Curtis took notice of this and climbed onto the sofa to snatch the letter from his mother.

"I want to read it! Is Henry finally getting sent away? Is he sick? Another family found to take him forever? It took the slow boy a bit, but reading the room and seeing his parents reactions were not...gleeful, he ruled out those options. Plus, Vincent had already ensnared it while Aunt Daisy was crying out. Henry was fuming.

"VINCENT! They're SPIES! They could be THIEVES!"

"I WANT TO READ IT MOMMY, NOW!" Curtis shouted in brazen entitlement coupled with the simple truth of never being ignored or not the center of attention for this long in his life.

"It's mine and legally I should be reading it!" Henry said firmly and hoped that that was a sort of law that grownups had placed on your everyday mail postage. He was sure it was.

"BOTH OF YOU GET OUT! TO THE KITCHEN WITH BOTH OF YOU!" Uncle Vincent roared so loud and so unhinged even Curtis snapped his jabbering jaw shot and had the self preservation to look scared. He pointed ramrod straight to the kitchen for Curtis and the pompous boy booked it to where he was told. Henry stood steadfast until Vincent scruffed him and thrust him in the same direction. Then he slammed the kitchen door closed and locked the two boys in together.

It happened so quick but Curtis spread his entire hand to cover Henry's face and slam him down. He hit the kitchen floor and looked up at a blurry Curtis trying to listen in through the keyhole. Henry tried to fix his glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose.

"This address," Aunt Daisy rasped. "How do they know where he sleeps, Vincent? Cameras in the house? S-s-pe…?" She couldn't finish her sentence. Mr. Doofly was trying to calm his wife but having a hard time composing his own self. Maybe they were even following them! Training animal spies? His mind thought back to that blasted gray spotted tabby.

"We don't write back, we do nothing," was Mr. Doofly's reply. Once it hatched from his brain and left his lips an almost deranged grin formed fluidly on his doughy face. "If we ignore it...they will never get an answer...we. Will. Do. Nothing."

"But if they have the means to-"

"There will be NONE of those kinds of freaks in this house. That's what this place will do to him. Teach him and ignite it in him when we've been so careful to squash it away. We swore, my love, that if we took him in...we'd squash the doom that lays deep within his veins."

Henry was locked in his closet for the rest of the afternoon until Uncle Vincent returned from work that evening. At once, the closet door was yanked so roughly Henry thought it would snap right from the hinges. Mr. Doofly never visited the coat closet since it was converted to Henry's hideaway 10 years ago.

"Where is my letter, Uncle Vincent?" Henry asked point blank with an eerie calmness that chilled Mr. Doofly's plasma to the bone. "Who is writing to me and what is it for?"

"I am well within my rights to call a violation of #5 on you, boy," Uncle Vincent wheezed. "It was to no one from no one by no one about nothing...you hear?"

"I don't believe you," Henry was getting heated! "My name was on it! My closet was on it!"

"SILENCE!" Yelled Uncle Vincent and more spiders for Henry to name later fell from the ceiling. He put an arm out and leaned his weight on the door frame as if standing was the hardest thing to do at the moment. He was breathing for composure but Henry noted how it sounded more like someone was struggling to exercise. Grotesquely and with much force, Uncle Vincent screwed his mouth into a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"About this closet...," he began. Henry had no idea why he was rubbing the door frame like that. "Your aunt and I have thought long and hard and...really...you're a big boy that's going off to secondary school! Why, you're almost as tall as me, good boy!" He tried to chuckle and Henry could feel his nose wrinkle. Was this Uncle Vincent being...polite…? "It's high time we move some toys from Curtis' play room and fix you up a good and proper bedroom upstairs with the rest of the family."

"Bedroom? Family? Wait...wha-why?" Henry was thinking and speaking out loud.

"#5 YOU NUMB SK…" the facade reappeared right after the former outburst was contained. "Take your stuff in here and please relocate to the upstairs room before, supper, would you?" He then waddled away dabbing his brow with a cloth. From Henry's spot on his foam mattress, he could hear what sounded like quiet sobbing followed by the sound of a very large man throwing himself into the armchair by the TV. Henry's eyes scanned his little place. In one box he placed all of his belongings and took great care of the feathered quill.

Soon, he was sitting on the lumpy twin bed in Curtis' playroom. At Curtis' age, what once was a playroom now seemed to be a toy and gadget graveyard. Every toy up until this point that Curtis had broken laid strewn about forgotten at Henry's feet. His cousin never took care of his things for nicer and better models would always be given to him shortly after. Henry saw the trucks, cars, TVs, video game cartridges and consoles broken and dusty. He saw other things that were not broken just "out of date, out of season, or out of socially acceptable." Things like last year's favorite TV program knick knack, the original copy of a video game whereas now Curtis plays its sequel. Below his feet, Henry heard Curtis wailing.

"THAT'S MY ROOM! I NEED THAT ROOM! MAKE HIM GET OUT!"

If yesterday you had told Henry he would be up in this big room to himself he would have thought you crazy. Except now, he wished more than ever to be in his little hole in the wall with the secret letter more than anything in the entire world.

The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Doofly looked like they hadn't slept in weeks. Curtis had whacked Mr. Doofly with his walking stick and the adult man had bruises to show for it. Mrs. Doofly had been kicked and gotten her hair pulled, and the kitchen window had plastic over it from where Curtis threw a cast iron pan at it. To no avail, Henry was staying in the third bedroom.

The mail arrived and Henry made a move to get it.

"Nooooo, sweet boy," Uncle Vincent patted his shoulder a bit too hard. "Curtis will get it!"

"I hate my life," Curtis cried and left dents in the wall as he made a scene hitting anything and everything with the walking stick on his way to the front door. If Henry just would have opened that letter in the hall. The bitterness of hindsight made Henry almost want to cry. "He got another one, daddy! Mr. Henry Puffer, The insufferable Brute's Toy room, 3 Oak Alcove," he stopped reading," Daddy what does 'insufferable' mean?

With a choking sob, Uncle Vincent all but sprung from his chair and sprinted down the hall. Henry followed right at his heels. The father and son wrestled a bit to pry the letter away. Henry jumped in to try and grab Uncle Vincent around the waist...everyone got smacked with the Smurling walking stick and in a confusion, all three were panting and huffing and Mr. Doofly held the letter high in the air.

"Go to your closet...bedroom...WHERE YOU'RE AWAY FROM ME," he shouted and began to pant through his inhales and exhales raggedly.

Henry paced his new room and thought very long and hard. Whoever this person was knows that he moved from the closet. They're worried! They want him to get this letter! I made Henry positively giddy. Surely they would reach out and keep reaching out until there was finally an answer? He'd make sure his secret sender wouldn't fail. He had an idea.

It required an alarm clock.

At six o' clock on the dot Henry shut off his alarm and took great care to get dressed silently. He would sneak out of the house and not wake anyone. There, he would wait for the postman to come down Oak Alcove and intercept his letter! It was foolproof!

The house was dark as Henry tiptoed down the stairs. His foot was to be on the floor but instead, it caught on something squishy and round and Henry went careening forward. With a shout, Henry skinned both elbows and flipped his body over in a sitting position to see Uncle Vincent in a sleeping bag at the foot of the stair-obviously anticipating Henry's plan. Before the two could say anything, three identical coffee stained looking parchment letters fell from the mailslot. Henry was closer, but Vincent was larger and untangled himself just as Henry's fingers met the warm paper.

Aunt Daisy was on the landing of the stairs weeping as Uncle Vincent ripped up the letters. Henry was shoved to the side and noticed there was some wood and a toolbox by the door.

"I had to be sure and now I'm sure," he had nails in his teeth and was nailing the mailslot closed. "They will give up if the letters cannot be delivered!" Seeing an enormous Uncle Vincent, in his pajamas, a crumpled sleeping bag at his ankles, nails in his mouth, and hammering rapidly at his front door made Henry realize there was most definitely something important about these letters.

On Friday, the whole family woke to Uncle Vincent screaming. When everyone was downstairs, there were at least thirteen letters all jammed under the space between the bottom of the door and floor. Five were even taped to the windows that faced the front yard. Stoically, Vincent went to the shed and returned with more wood. He whistled 'Living in the Sunlight' as he worked and would tremble if anyone tried to speak to him.

On Saturday, the family was awoken by the shrill cry of Curtis. The bathroom that was once next door to Henry's living quarters had twenty letters coming up out of the toilet and sink. They seemed impervious to water and would just float delicately as water streamed and flooded almost every surface. Uncle Vincent pushed passed Mrs. Doofly, Curtis, and Henry like old west saloon doors to brandish a plunger and furious pump the offending parchements away.

Even though it was the weekend, Uncle Vincent had called off sick from work two days in a row and Henry heard him on the phone asking for two more when letters started showing up in the family refrigerator, microwave, and oven. Mr. Doofly slammed the phone on the receiver with his boss only to pick it up again and speed dial the post office to complain or cancel or do SOMETHING to stop the infernal letters.

"I'm not even mad anymore...I'm outstanded. Who wants to get ahold of you this badly, Puffer," Curtis asked him and he could only shrug through a triumphant grin.

On Sunday Mr. Doofly was calm and rather chipper.

"Blessed day of rest! No mail on Sundays! NO stress!"

He was just about to put his lips to his coffee when he felt the tremors. He put his mug down and noticed the rings forming in his dark brew. The sound grew and grew until…

Like angry two dimensional groundhogs letters started to pop up from the floorboards. Mr. Doofly cried out in a shrill scream and Mrs. Dooly flew down the stairs to harmonize with him in her own screeching way. This must have been the right combination because fifty or so more in the shape of paper airplanes whizzed from the fireplace flying in elegant circles all around the quaint first floor of the Doofly house.

"Woah! Puffer! Check it out," Curtis stared in awe as Henry mirrored him. That is until he came to his senses and tried to capture one. Mrs. Doofly gagged at the one that flew right in her mouth as if sentience wanted her to shut up. Henry made a jump, one just in his reach but Uncle Vernon caught him around the waist and threw him, yet again, into the kitchen. Just like early in the week, Curtis followed right after. The two boys could hear the whistling still going on just past the thin kitchen door.

"THAT IS IT!" He barged in and grabbed both the boys by their wrists. He was covered in paper cuts and tufts of his hair was missing from pulling it out in his stress. Mrs. Doofly looked no better than her husband as she trailed behind him like a silent, traumatized shadow. "Pack clothing for as many nights as can fit and meet me at the car in twenty minutes or I'll throttle you!"

And so they drove. Drove for longer than Henry suspects he'd ever driven in his life. Even Aunt Daisy was stone cold silent in the passenger seat. She still had her 1,000 yard stare. Uncle Vincent would murmur things such as "That'll lose em', yeah ya like that do ya…?" every now and again as he would make sharp turns and go up and down roads maybe twice or thrice over.

At last they were at some dingy looking hotel outside of Riverview. Two tiny twin beds with starchy, stiff sheets greeted Henry and Curtis who had not stopped wailing since mile one of the journey. He had missed three television shows, a playdate with Ross, his high score streak on his video game was ruined, and he hadn't eaten in hours. It was his very worst day. Aunt Daisy offered canned beans to the boys and then they had to be put to sleep. Curtis gurgled and sputtered in sleep but Henry was wide awake alive with amusement on what tricks his secret sender would pull tomorrow.

Packets of sandy, instant oatmeal was stuck in every crevice of Henry's teeth that morning. Uncle Vincent looked a bit sheepish and Aunt Daisy's eyes would dart every which way as if she was wondering what could befuddle them next. A knock on their hotel room door started the four of them. It was the manager at the front desk.

"Pardon me, sir...you got a Mr. Henry Puffer in there? I brought the one but they all are copies on my front desk. It's kinda a nuisance, sir. There's like, 200 down there." She held up the letter and Uncle Vicent screamed so loud the poor gal had to take two steps back.

Mr. Henry Puffer

Room 27

Pleasant Rooms Inn

Riverview

Henry was literally unable to make a move as Uncle Vincent was using his...very large backside to block Henry's flailing hand towards the woman. She looked very alarmed and made a move for something tubed shaped in her pocket. He used his rump to bop Henry off balance and closed the door behind him. Henry could hear him follow the manager to where his letters were.

When Uncle Vincent returned he was white again.

"In the car...I have the perfect spot. Old girl pretty much screamed for me to take it; she was so gleeful!" (scared out of her mind more like it)

Henry was now fully cemented in the fact that his secret sender would not stop. It gave him some of the most exhilarating confidence he has ever had. He didn't even mind Curtis' constant complaining.

"I'm missing my shows! You're wasting my summer on a blasted Puffer of all people! I got a lousy fishing trip for my birthday and...and...Henry gets an across the world TOUR!"

Henry would have smacked himself! Yes! Henry's eleventh birthday was in just two days! July 31! He forgot with all of this letter business and also the fact that his birthdays were never something to really get excited about. Last year he got a pair of Curtis' old sneakers and a gumball with a hair wrapped around it. Uncle Vincent screeched the car into the parking lot. They were at the boat ramp.

"Darling, where are we?" The wind was chilling and Mrs. Doofly asked as she rubbed her arms to warm them. Curtis was too dumbfounded to speak. Newcrest was not an urban type of world to say the least, but it certainly wasn't anywhere near the salty air and crashing sea that laid before their eyes.

"HUGE storm! 8 to 12 foot waves! It's absolutely perfect!" He replied instead of answering his wife's question.

"Dad's gone crazy, hasn't he, mommy?"

"HOW'S YOUR LETTERS NOW?!" Uncle Vincent shouted to the sea as Henry, Curtis, and Aunt Doofly had to unpack the car. There wasn't much. Why offshore, on a little scrap of land, a lighthouse shined faintly on the horizon.

"Vincent Stephen Alexander Doofly," Mrs. Doofly enunciated as the former led his family plus his nephew to a row boat moored to the rickety dock. "We are not getting into this thing to go to that light house! The waves-" one crashed deafeningly against the rocks, muting her and proving her point simultaneously as her mouth continued to move. "-certain death!"

But Mr. Doofly was in too good of a mood, ignored his wife, and nearly picked up and threw everything the company had packed including his protesting wife and son into the boat. Henry, in contrast, got into the boat willingly. He was excited to see what tricks his clever sender would come up with next.

By some miracle, Mr. Doofly rowed and rowed towards the lighthouse just before his weather predictions came true. Inside the lighthouse, the walls would shake and sea mist would permeate through the cracks. Drops of water would fall on heads and noses, too. The wind sounded like a train whistle just above them. The plexiglass that covered the windows seemed to bow in and out and tremble with the pressure drops. Aunt Daisy did her best to make a sleeping area for Curtis on the decaying sofa with a slimy, grimy tarp as a blanket. Her and Uncle Vincent were able to share the only sleeping bag that was packed whereas Henry was left to the cold hard floor. He only had his dirty clothes from the day before as his blanket.

The storm pounded and continued throughout the night. Henry got up and looked at the angry 12 footers that looked like they would swallow the lighthouse at any moment. It was almost like being in a submarine instead of a lighthouse. Curtis had the fanciest and most sophisticated digital watch on the market and Henry snuck from the window to take a peek at it. The angry red numbers read 11:50pm.

Henry wasn't sure what time he was born, so he was more than okay to call his birthday being in ten minutes time. As time ticked closer to midnight and the sound of the storm grew louder, Henry did feel a glimmer of hope. Would the sender find him here? Why was he being punished for these mysterious letters? Would anyone remember his birthday? Henry clenched his eyes really tight and covered his ears. It sounded like something really big hit the shore out there. He pressed his hands tighter. Was that crunching sound someone walking or someone eating? He looked to Curtis to be midnight snacking on some chips. To no avail, he was still out like a light. Speaking of lights…

12:00am July 31

KNOCK! KNOCK! BOOM! BOOM!

The flimsy wood of the lighthouse door nearly caved inwards at whomever was outside knocking. Henry got to his feet as all three Dooflys shouted in fright.

"Yoooo Hooooo! ANYONE hooooome?" A booming voice called through the storm.

Henry's lips screwed up into a grin.