The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.

Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.

Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.

I wished it was raining," he said.
"I don't need the rain," I said. "I need you.

What is it with you and that book?"
Rafael laughed. "We have a personal relationship.

This is my problem. I want other people to tell me how they feel. But I'm not so sure I want to return the favor.