Thunder Cake by Patricia Polacco

Child, you come out from under that bed. It's only thunder you're hearing, my grandma said. The air was hot, heavy, India, allowed clap of thunder, shook the house, rattled the windows, and made me grab her close. Steady child, she could, unless you let go of me, we won't be able to make a thunder cake today. Under cake, I stammered as a hub to even closer. Don't pay attention to that old thunder, except to see how close the storm is getting. When you see the lightning, start counting. Real slow. When you hear the thunder, stop counting. That number is how many miles away the storm is. Understand, she asked, we need to know how far away the storm is, so we have time to make the cake and get it into the oven before the storm comes, or it won't be real thunder cake. Her eyes surveyed the black clouds away off in the distance. Then she strode into the kitchen. Her worn hands pulled a thick book from the shelf above the wood stove. Let's find that recipe child. She crowed as she lovingly fingered the grease stained pages to increase spot. Here it is, thunder cake. She carefully pinned the ingredients on a piece of note paper. Now let's gather all the things we'll need, she exclaimed, as she scurried toward the back door. 

We were by the barn door when a huge bolt of lightning flashed. I started counting like grandma told me to. One, two, three, four, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, ten. Then the thunder roared. Ten miles. It's ten miles away. Grandma said, is she looked at the sky? About an hour away, I'd say. You'll have to hurry a child, gather them eggs careful like, she said, eggs from mean old Nellie peck him. I was scared. I knew she would try to peck me. I'm here, she won't hurt you. Just get them eggs, grandma said softly. The lightning flashed again. One. Two, three, four, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, I counted. 9 miles, grandma reminded me. Milk was next. Milk from old kick cow, as grandma melter, kick cow turn and look mean right at me. I was scared. She looks so big. Zip with the lightning. One, two, three, four, 5, 6, 7, 8, I counted, but room went the thunder, 8 miles child, grandma croaked. Now we have to get chocolate and sugar and flour from the dry shed. I was scared as we walked down the path from the farmhouse through tangle weed Woods to the dry shed. Suddenly the lightning slipped the sky, one, two, three, four, 5, 6, 7, I counted. Oh. Baboo. Crushed the thunder. It scared me a lot, but I kept walking with grandma. 

Another jagged edge of lightning flashed, as I crept into the dry shed. One, two, three, four, 5, 6, I counted, crackle, crackle, boom. Kaboom, the thunder bellowed. It was dark, and I was scared. I'm here child, grandma said softly from the doorway. Hurry now, we haven't got much time. We've got everything but the secret ingredient. Three. Overripe tomatoes and some strawberries, grandma whispered as she squinted at the list. I climbed up high on the trellis. The ground looked a long way down. I was scared. I'm here child, she said, her voice was steady and soft. You won't fall. I reached three luscious tomatoes while she picks strawberries. Lightning again, one, two, three, four, 5 I counted, kabang. The thunder growls. We hurried back to the house and the warm kitchen, and we measured the ingredients. I poured the mint to the mixing bowl while grandma mixed. I churned butter for the frosting and melted chocolate. Finally, we poured the batter into the cake pans and put them into the oven together. Lightning lit the kitchen. I only counted a three in the thunder rumbled and crashed three miles away, grandma said, and the cake is in the oven, we made it. We'll have a real thunder cake. 

As we waited for the cake, grandma looked out the window for a long time. Why, you aren't afraid of thunder, you're too brave, she said as she looked right at me, I'm not brave, grandma, I said, I was under the bed. Remember? But you got out from under it. She answered, and you got eggs from mean old Nellie peck in. You got milk from old kit cow. You went through tingle weed Woods to the dry shed. You climb the trellis in the barnyard. From where I sit only a very brave person could have done all them things. I thought and thought as the storm rumbled closer, she was right. I was brave. Brave people can't be afraid of a sound child, she said, as we spread out the tablecloth and set the table, when we were done, we hurried into the kitchen to take the cake out of the oven, after the cake had cooled, we frosted it. Just then the lightning flashed and this time it lit the whole sky. 

Even before the last flash of faded, the thunder rolled, boomed, crashed and burned. Just above us, the storm was here. Perfect grandma coup just perfect. She beamed as she added the last strawberry to the glistening chocolate frosting on top of our thunder cake. As rain poured down on our roof, grandma cut a wedge for each of us. She poured a steaming cups of tea from the samovar, when the thunder roared above us so hard it shook the windows and rattled the dishes in the cupboards, we just smiled and ate our thunder cake from that time on, I never feared the voice of thunder again.