The colors were wrong.

Logan stood on the cold driveway and couldn't look away. Red, orange, and purple smeared together across the sky like sunset, except it was after nine at night.

It was a chilly Friday evening in April, which was already weird enough for Middle Tennessee. But the sky was stranger.

He had heard of the northern lights. Everybody had. But he'd never actually seen them, not this far south, and whatever this was didn't look like the pictures or videos online.

This was different.

Logan tried to make sense of it. He ran through every news story, science lesson, and half-remembered thing his dad had ever said that might explain why the night sky suddenly looked broken.

Behind him, the front door burst open.

Fast little footsteps slapped across the entryway. Logan didn't even have to turn around.

It was Charlie, his little sidekick. The youngest of the three brothers and every bit of four years old.

"What are you doing, Lo Lo?" Charlie yelled. "You've been out here for like ever!"

Logan glanced back at him, standing on the porch in pajamas, bare feet, and absolutely no concern for the cold.

"Just looking at this crazy sky," Logan said.

Then, in his sweetest little brother voice, the one he had somehow mastered before kindergarten, he asked, "Why is it all different colors like that?"

Logan looked back up.

"Well, bud, I was just trying to figure that out."

Charlie looked serious for a second, then nodded.

"Well, when you do, let me know. I'll be playing checkers with Tripp," Charlie yelled, then spun around and ran back inside, leaving the front door wide open behind him.

Logan laughed under his breath.

Yep. Definitely didn't shut the door.

Because — Charlie.

He pulled the door closed and looked back at the sky one more time.

The only thing that made any sense was the solar flare stuff everyone had been talking about all week. The news wouldn't shut up about it. His dad had mentioned it too, though in that calm, trying-not-to-sound-too-interested way he used whenever Mom was close enough to hear him.

They kept calling it a coronal mass something. Logan remembered the acronym, though.

"CME," he said quietly.

From inside the house came the sound of Tripp yelling about an illegal double jump, followed by Charlie yelling back that it was not illegal because he made the rules.

Then Tripp yelled something about a backward move.

Nope. Apparently, it was both.

Logan smiled and went back inside.

His parents were standing between the sink and dishwasher, finishing up the cleanup from dinner. It had been another healthy meal with a bunch of vegetables and other stuff Logan hated.

He always seemed to find a way to disappear around cleanup time to avoid kid duties, which was how he found himself outside staring into the sky. Conveniently disappearing was probably one of his superpowers, along with building block mansions, video game battles, and procrastination.

Standing there watching his parents laugh and flirt gave Logan the icks. He loved them fiercely, but they were lovey-dovey all the dang time. Still, he figured at least they were happy together. Several of his friends couldn't say the same about their parents, so he found ways to overlook the all-too-often PDA.

He had always looked up to his dad. They had been inseparable for as long as Logan could remember. Even when Tripp came along, and most recently Charlie, Dad had always found time for him.

His dad had grown up in Mississippi — some small town three hours south — and his mom had gone to the same school. High school sweethearts together for twenty-five years, three kids, and a mortgage. The walking cliché. Annoying in the best way.

As David placed the last plate in the dishwasher, he told the boys to get ready for bed.

"It's late, guys, and you know Mom and Dad have to go to Dallas tomorrow, right?"

Tripp piped up, asking, "Why are you guys going again?"

Nicole grabbed up Tripp, the middle child, and pulled him against her. "Well, tater tot, it's a parents' trip for the weekend, and we're going to see this huge boy band from the late nineties and early 2000s."

This prompted a quick look from Dad to Logan, accompanied by an eye roll.

Charlie, even at four, had laser-like observation skills.

"Dad, why did you look like that at Logan and move your eyes up?"

Nicole snapped around. "Yeah, why did your eyes do that, Dad?"

"I plead the Fifth," Dad said, quickly changing the subject. "Alright, hop to it, guys. Wash your faces, brush your teeth, and get into bed."

The three boys raced upstairs, knocking and pushing each other the whole way. Somehow, it always seemed to be Logan and Charlie versus Tripp in these mini competitions.

Behind them, Mom called out, "Why is everything a race with these boys?"

"Well, they're boys, that's how we roll," Dad said.

Logan was halfway down the hall when he heard Dad add, "Come on, I'll race you packing our bags. First one finished doesn't have to fold the laundry in the dryer."

Logan smiled to himself. Of course Dad would turn that into a race too.

A little while later, their parents came upstairs for the official tuck-in routine. Charlie was first, mostly because if he wasn't, he'd yell questions from his room until somebody came in.

From his own room, Logan could hear pieces of it down the hall. Charlie's room was really more of a locker room, at least according to Charlie. Sports stuff covered almost everything. Balls, jerseys, helmets, random plastic bats — whatever he had collected or refused to throw away. NFL jerseys were his favorite.

Usually, turning off Charlie's TV involved at least one argument, some crying, and some form of negotiation. Tonight, there was barely anything. That surprised Logan.

Tripp was next.

From his room, Logan heard his parents move down the hall and stop at Tripp's door. Tripp was the easygoing, carefree kid of the house. Somehow, being stuck right between Logan and Charlie had not ruined him yet. Eight years old meant he was too old for Charlie's little-kid stuff and too young for most of the things Logan got to do, but Tripp didn't seem to care much.

Logan heard Tripp laugh, probably flashing that big Cheshire-cat smile with the missing bottom tooth.

"When we get back, we need to cut this mop, boy," Dad said.

Logan could picture him rubbing Tripp's messy blond hair, the way he always did when it got long enough to hang over his ears.

"We most certainly will not be cutting it," Mom said.

Logan smiled. He didn't have to see her face to know Dad had just gotten one of those looks.

"Well," Dad said, backing down, "it needs it."

Tripp said something about liking it long and how it was his style.

"Fair enough, my man," Dad said.

A few seconds later, Mom's voice softened. "Night-night, bud."

Then their footsteps moved toward Logan's room.

As his parents came into his room, he turned off whatever online gaming streamer was popular that day.

"Becca getting here early?" Logan asked.

"After breakfast," Mom said. "So don't act like you're in charge just because we're gone."

Logan gave her a look. "I wasn't going to."

Dad laughed. "That means he definitely was."

"Did you guys see the lights and colors in the sky tonight?" Logan asked.

"No," they answered in unison.

"We were getting ready for the trip, making dinner, and trying to keep your brothers from beating each other up all night," Mom said.

"What about it?" Dad asked.

"Well, I've never seen anything like it," Logan said. "It was the craziest colors I've ever seen in the sky, especially at night. I don't know what it is, but I'm afraid it has something to do with that solar flare stuff everyone keeps talking about. Do you think that's a real thing we should be worried about?"

His mom quickly responded, "It's certainly not anything you need to worry about, baby boy. Get some rest and let us worry about the grown-up stuff."

"I don't think it's anything to worry about, man," Dad added. "They've been talking about these things more and more lately. You know what, if it is something bad, you know we have a plan for that, right?"

"Oh, Dad, stop with the prepper stuff," Nicole said. "You sound like one of those tin-foil-hat-wearing conspiracy people."

As Nicole kissed Logan goodnight, David muttered to nobody in particular, "It's better to be prepared and not need it than to need it and not be prepared."

David gave Logan one of those tough-guy hugs and followed Nicole out, mentioning something about her folding laundry.

Logan wasn't sure why, but the way his parents answered felt a little too quick.

Like they were trying to make him feel better.

He stared at the ceiling for a while after they left, listening to the house settle around him. Tripp laughed once from down the hall. Charlie called out for someone to bring him water.

The normal bedtime sounds.

Logan told himself his parents were probably right. It was probably nothing. Some science thing adults would explain on the news tomorrow and then forget about by Monday.

Still, when he closed his eyes, he could see the colors again.

Red. Orange. Purple and blue.

Glowing quietly over everything.