At 13, My Parents Locked Me in a Flooding Garage During a Hurricane Because ….

Through the wood, I heard laughter. The soft clatter of Scrabble tiles. Brianna complaining about triple-word scores.

I knocked harder. “Please! The water is rising!”

The door cracked open. My father’s face appeared in the dim hallway glow. He looked inconvenienced.

“You are ruining this evening,” he snapped. “Stop overreacting.”

“I’m standing in water!” I shouted, panic cracking my voice. “It’s almost at the mattress!”