My Favourite Season Summer Better [Updated]

My name is Leo, and summer is my church.

Around nine o’clock, the air grew heavy. The crickets stopped chirping. A hush fell over the neighborhood. Then, a flicker of light behind the hills, too brief to be lightning, more like a camera flash from God. Sam would look at me, eyes wide. We’d grab our skateboards and race to the highest point of the street—the old fire road.

The sound of a basketball dribbling on the driveway pulled me off the bed. My best friend, Sam, was already outside, his tank top stuck to his skin. “You coming, or are you gonna hibernate until August?” he yelled up. my favourite season summer

The thunderstorm.

It hummed and rattled in the window of my bedroom, making all the right noises, but the cool air it promised was a myth—a faint, apologetic whisper against the tropical onslaught outside. I lay on top of my sheets, a sweaty starfish, listening to the cicadas fire up their tiny, frantic engines. It was the first official day of summer vacation, and the world had turned into a green, buzzing, delicious sauna. My name is Leo, and summer is my church

“Pool,” I confirmed.

I grinned, grabbed my gloves, and slid down the stairs’ banister, burning the back of my thigh. It hurt. It was worth it. A hush fell over the neighborhood

But the best part, the beating heart of summer, came last.