Make the storm plan before the storm shows up
Twenty minutes with your parents and one index card on the fridge turns a scary evening alone into one you already know how to handle.

Quick answer: Sit down with a parent before storm season and answer five questions on paper: where you go, who you call, what's in your kit, what you do if the power or water goes, and who gets let in the door. Put the answers on a card. Stick it where you'll see it.
It's 4:40 on a Thursday. Your mom's shift runs until seven. The sky just went a flat greenish gray, the wind has picked up, and your phone buzzes with an alert you've never read all the way through.
Nobody in that moment needs to be brave. They need to already know what to do.
That's the whole point of a plan. You make it on a calm afternoon, when you can think, so the stormy one only asks you to follow it.
How to ask for it
Don't wait for your parents to bring it up. Asking first tells them something good about you.
Try this: "I'd like us to make a plan for when I'm home alone and the weather turns bad. Can we do it this weekend? Twenty minutes."
Parents who've been quietly worried about it will say yes fast. Parents who think you're fine alone will usually say yes faster once they hear you want to be ready. Either way, you've shown the kind of judgment that gets you more freedom later, not less.
Bring a pen and an index card. Four-by-six is fine.
Question one: where do I go?
The answer depends on the storm, so you need two spots.
For tornado warnings: the lowest floor, in an interior room with no windows. A bathroom, a closet, or a hallway works. If you've got a basement, that's first choice. Grab a mattress, couch cushions, or a bike helmet if you have one. Walk to the spot together once so you both know it's clear of junk.
For severe thunderstorms and high wind: stay inside, stay away from windows, and skip the glass doors. A bedroom or hallway on the lower floor is fine.
Learn the difference between the two alerts, because it decides everything. A watch means conditions could produce a storm. Get your kit ready and keep your phone charged. A warning means it's happening or about to. Go to your spot now, not after one more text.
Question two: who do I call, and in what order?
Write three names and numbers, in order. Mom, Dad, then a nearby adult your parents trust, like a neighbor or your aunt. Pick the third one together and ask them ahead of time, so they're expecting your call.
Add one line: "Texts first if calls won't connect." During big storms phone networks jam up, and a short text often gets through when a call won't. Agree on a message your parents can read in two seconds, like "Safe at home, in the hallway, power out."
Then add the one that matters most. 911 is for real emergencies: fire, a smell of gas, someone hurt, a tree through the roof, a downed power line outside. Don't second-guess yourself on those. If you smell gas, get out of the house first and call from outside.
And settle this out loud: you will never be in trouble for calling 911 or for calling a parent in a panic. A call that turns out to be nothing is a good call.
Question three: what's in the kit?
Skip the survival-show fantasy. A storm kit for a teenager at home is boring, and boring is the goal.
- Two flashlights, with batteries you've tested
- A phone charger and a battery pack, charged
- A few bottles of water and snacks that need no cooking
- A basic first aid kit (check yours, since most are useless)
- A battery or hand-crank radio, if your family has one
- A blanket, since a dark house gets cold
Use flashlights, not candles. Candles in a dark house are how a bad evening becomes a fire. Put the kit in one bin in the same spot, and make sure you can find it with the lights off. Try it. It's harder than you think.
Question four: what if the power, water, or internet goes?
Power outages are the most likely thing that'll actually happen, and they're a nuisance more than a danger.
Ask your parents these and write the answers down:
- Where's the breaker box, and do they want you touching it? (Usually no.)
- Should the fridge stay shut? (Yes. It keeps food cold longer.)
- Is there a generator? If so, the rule is absolute: it never runs inside the house or the garage, because the exhaust can poison you. Have your parents handle it.
- If the water's out, what do you use to drink?
Add three more rules that don't bend. Stay out of floodwater, since moving water knocks adults off their feet. Stay away from any downed line, even one that looks dead. And during lightning, stay off corded phones and out of the shower and tub. If you hear thunder, you're close enough to be hit.
Once the thunder stops, wait 30 minutes after the last rumble before you go outside. It feels like forever. Do it anyway.
Question five: who gets let in?
This one's short. Nobody you don't know. That includes a stranger at the door asking to use your phone, someone saying they're from the power company, or a person who says your mom sent them.
You can talk through a closed door, or you can not answer at all. Then you call a parent. A decent person will understand. Someone who gets pushy about it has just told you what you needed to know.
Also decide in advance about friends. Can one come over? Can you go to a neighbor's if it gets bad? Settle that now, with your parents, not in a text during the storm. If a friend asks you to keep a plan secret from your parents, that's a no, and a good friend will drop it.
During, and after
During the storm, check your card, go to your spot, and send your short text. Then wait. If the power's out for a couple of hours, that's a rare evening with nothing pulling at you. Read, play cards, or get your hours back the way you've been meaning to. Save phone battery for texts, not videos.
When it's over, leave the house better than the storm found it. Put the flashlights back with fresh batteries. Refill the water you used. Tell your parents what you took from the kit so they can restock it. That's the sort of detail adults notice and remember.
A plan like this works for the same reason it's smart to write down your standards before anyone tests them. The decision gets made when you're calm, so you don't have to make it scared.
Make the card tonight. Put it on the fridge with a magnet. Then let the sky do whatever it wants.
Nina Castellan
BRO for Her
Runs the women-facing desk. Same standard, same tools, written for a different reader — not a softer one.
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