That morning one of her teachers had said crossly, "Really, Meg, I don't understand how a childwith parents as brilliant as yours are supposed to be can be such a poor student. She'd been dropped down to the lowest section in her grade. On top of Meg Murry doing everything wrong. She wasn't usually afraid of weather.-It's not just the weather, she thought.-It's the weather on top of everything else. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraithlike shadows that raced along the ground. Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky. In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. A Wrinkle in Time: 50th Anniversary Edition
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