[ WP ] Everyone has the ability to control weather

So I got a bit carried away, and I'm not exactly satisfied with my work, but nonetheless this is the first story I've written in months. Thanks for prompting me out of my rut! This is my first post in this subreddit, looking forward to doing more. 
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 Gabriel faced the window and listened the news report coming from the television. “ Investigators are still trying to determine what exactly caused Freytown ’ s first daytime rainfall in ten years. The only lead at this time— ” 
 His sister turned the television off. “ It ’ s not your fault, Gabriel. How can it be your fault? ” 
 
 “ I told you. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s not possible. Remember? *No one person controls the weather. We are all responsible. * ” 
 
 He turned away from her and shook his head. He stared at the empty driveway and cried. 
 
 For as far back into his nine years of life that he could remember, Gabriel had learned what he must do as a proper Freytown citizen. During the crop growing seasons, he went to sleep diligently conjuring lakes and oceans and swimming pools in his mind. Each morning the bright posters in his bedroom reminded him to keep thoughts of sunshine in the back of his mind. Gabriel had never stayed up late enough or awoken early enough to see rain himself, but a few times he thought he heard a gentle patter against his window when he stirred in the night. 
 
 The adults told the children that their time to take charge of the weather would come. In the meantime the children went to school to memorize temperature patterns, calculate optimum moisture, and wonder in silence. Their small town boasted the highest crop yields and the most consistent weather in all the state. Mild sun in the day and gentle rain in the night. They had a record to uphold. 
 
 On the day of the incident, Gabriel had been at baseball practice after school. The coach was a former drill sergeant. If sports were not a mandatory activity, all the children would have quit. The coach ’ s favorite joke was: “ I ’ m thinking about letting you kids go home early today…that is, if it rains. ” 
 
 Sometimes Gabriel would look at his teammates and hope. He had heard of children conspiring for snow days in other towns, where the adults passed it off as harmless mischief and even admired the children ’ s level of organized effort. Gabriel had heard of big cities, unpredictable and ruled by passions, with their daily weather affected by news events and stock markets and holidays and sports victories. 
 
 Today, it did not matter what Gabriel had heard of or hoped for. It mattered what he had read about, in one of the books tucked in the furthest corners of the library. 
 
 “ Let ’ s make a Rain Turtle, ” he whispered to his teammates when the coach had gone to get the pitching machine. “ There was a tribe who drew them in the ground, and they only needed a few people for it to work. ” 
 
 Gabriel knelt down in the clay of the infield. He looked at the sketch he had drawn in pen on his palm and copied the shapes in the ground, digging down firmly with his finger. 
 
 “ Now what? ” one of his teammates asked. 
 
 Gabriel stood up. “ We all have to spit on it. ” 
 
 “ Is that it? ” 
 
 “ Then we dance around it, and we wait for the rain. ” 
 
 So they made a circle around the Rain Turtle, they spit, and they danced, soon devolving into giggles. 
 
 Then there was a deep rumbling sound, seeming to come from everywhere at once. They thought the world was collapsing. The wind picked up, the clouds darkened. The children scurried to the dugout, clutching at each other. Water poured from the sky. A streak of light flashed across the clouds, and they all screamed. They had never been so glad to see their coach. 
 
 The team took shelter in the school ’ s cafeteria until the rain stopped, more than an hour later. Gabriel ’ s older sister came to the school to pick him up after the sky had cleared. He could see something was wrong. All she could say was “ Alan. ” Her hands shook the whole way home. 
 
 Alan, their brother. He had been driving to a friend ’ s house when the storm had begun. Alan had never driven in the rain. There had only been daytime rain once in his lifetime, when Alan was seven years old. He had never heard thunder or seen lighting. The roads were wet. Alan was scared. He swerved. 
 
 During the funeral, Gabriel furiously imagined a storm. He wanted another one, one so strong it would topple buildings and shake the town as it demanded to be shaken after such a great loss. He wanted to scream at them, all of them: how can you make the sky bright on a day like this? *No one person controls the weather. We are all responsible*.
