At 2 P.M., I Walked Into My Parents’ Backyard Expecting To Pick Up My 8-

to horror.

“What happened?” he shouted, rushing toward us.

“She fainted,” I sputtered. “She’s burning up. I think it’s heatstroke. Call 911 now.”

We got her onto the front porch, the only shade in sight. Ethan dialed 911 with shaking hands while I tried to cool Amelia down, dabbing her forehead and wrists with water from the garden hose, my mind racing continue reading …