Jonathan had never seen a storm of this magnitude, not in all his 17 years. it was the kind of storm granddad washington used to talk about from “back in the day”—raindrops pounding the roof of the old farmhouse like baseballs and wind rushing the windows faster than a colt racing through the pasture. after 78 days of a burning drought, jonathan had forgotten what rain sounded like, felt like, and smelled like. he suddenly had a desire to run in it and to let it soak through him—through his skin, his veins, his bones—but he didn’t dare. the drops looked sharp enough to cut skin and sounded ready to do so if provoked by a nebraska farm boy. wiping his breath from the parlor window, jonathan realized that his fingers were trembling. resting his fingers against the glass again, he realized that the windows, pummeled by the wind for the past hour or so, seemed just as frightened as he was. if mom were home, she’d grab a handful of jonathan’s sweater, yank him into the center of the room, and then order him to get down and cover his head until the storm blew into the next county. jonathan knew he should—knew his neighbors were probably doing that right now—but he couldn’t. the rain was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying, and jonathan, remembering the thrill of granddad washington’s stories, wondered if he’d see another storm like this in his lifetime. 1 what does the author mean by saying, "resting his fingers against the glass again, he realized that the windows, pummeled by the wind for the past hour or so, seemed just as frightened as he was"?
a. jonathan was both afraid and fascinated by the huge storm's intensity. b. granddad washington had never before seen a storm like this one. c. the storm was so strong that it was making the windows tremble. d. the storm was so frightening that it was making jonathan tremble.