Ice Storm (2 page)

Sophie

S
ophie stretched, loving the warmth of her
bed.
She reached down between the covers to grab her warm housecoat and socks, then braced herself for the moment when she had to get out of bed. The cold air in her bedroom always made her shrink inside her skin, forcing her to run all the way to the warmth of the kitchen.

“Sophie, are you up?” called her mother.

“I’m up!” she shouted back, and smiled as she thought of the big wood stove in the kitchen and the cup of
chocolat chaud
that would be waiting for her. Winter in Québec wasn’t so bad, not if you could wake up to a wood stove and hot chocolate, and maybe even pancakes and maple syrup.

Maman
had
made pancakes. Sébastien was already inhaling a stack that was as big as his head.

“Petit cochon!”
Sophie said under her breath. Nine-year-old Sébastien just stared at her, and squeezed another huge forkful into his mouth. His dark hair stood up in crazy spikes all over his head. She hoped Maman would make him comb it flat before he went to school. He wouldn’t if she didn’t make him. Sophie gave Maman a kiss, then sat down.

“Where’s Papa?”

“In the barn,” replied Maman.

Sophie stood up suddenly. “Is it Adalie?” she asked, worried.

“Oui,
but sit down,” replied Maman in a calm voice. “There’s no problem. Papa is just being careful.”

Adalie was one of Sophie’s favourite cows. The last time she had given birth there had been a lot of trouble. The baby calf died and Adalie nearly had as well. This time, all seemed to be going well, but anything could happen when a cow gave birth.

“May I stay home to help?
S’il te plâit?
Papa might need me,” pleaded Sophie. Staying home, of course, had the added bonus of a day without the embarrassment of Sébastien’s constant search for the
loup-garou.

“Non,”
said Maman. “Papa has called the vet, who will come if needed. It’s his job. Your job is to go to school. Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Sophie sighed. Her friends could wait. She really wanted to be there when Adalie had her calf. But if Maman said no, that was no. Sophie wasn’t the kind of girl who argued with her parents. She didn’t like to make a commotion. She chose to show her disappointment in other ways, like leaving her breakfast dishes on the table and fighting with Sébastien. But Maman barely noticed Sophie’s small rebellions.

By the time Sébastien finally finished his logger’s-size plate of pancakes, they were late. Even so, he made Sophie wait until he found his new video camera, a gift from Christmas.

“Why do you need it at school?” demanded Sophie with exasperation.
“Viens-toi!”
The two of them pulled on their snow gear and walked to the end of the lane to wait for the school bus.

“I think there is a
loup-garou
at school, in the cupboard where the basketballs are stored. I’m going to film it. I will take its soul so it cannot hurt me,” explained Sébastien. Sophie just groaned. Why was it that she had to get stuck with a brother like him? Some days, Sophie was more than willing to let Alice have Sébastien for her very own. Days like today.

Sophie tried to hurry Sébastien down the drive. If she had to go to school, then she didn’t want to miss the bus. But Sébastien would not be hurried.

“Will Adalie’s calf have a soul?” Sébastien asked.

“What?!” Sophie frowned at her brother.

“If this calf dies too, will it go to heaven? Will it be the same heaven as we go to?”

“Sébastien, that’s awful! The calf won’t die.” Sophie shook her head in disgust.

“What if it does?” worried Sébastien. “Or maybe Adalie will die instead. How old do you have to be to have a soul? Are there different heavens for mothers and fathers and children, or is there just one place for everybody?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to know? Why are we even talking about this? It’s stupid! You’re crazy,
c’est sûr.”
She frowned. “No animals are going to die.”

Sébastien stared at his sister for a moment. Then he looked up. “It’s raining,” he said.

Sophie huddled deeper into her hood. “It’s not supposed to rain in January,” she grumbled.

“You should have told Maman how much you wanted to stay home. She would have listened,” said Sébastien.

“What?” Sébastien’s constant changes of subject made Sophie dizzy sometimes. “Tell Maman what?”

“You never tell her what you really want. How’s she supposed to know?”

Sophie just stared at her little brother. He didn’t say another word until the school bus came and he took his lonely seat at the front of the bus. As Sophie passed him on the way to the back where her friends sat, she looked at him quizzically. He was so strange. His brain bounced around all over the place, but then he would come out with something that proved he’d been paying attention all along. She would never understand him.

Alice was better at that. Alice got Sébastien in a way that Sophie just couldn’t. Sophie sighed. She wasn’t sure she’d tell Alice what he’d said. It sounded like a criticism, and criticism she kept close to her heart. The bad stuff wasn’t for sharing.

Anyway, thought Sophie, shaking off her brother’s weirdness for the millionth time, Alice had her own problems right now. The competition was so close. Sophie was in awe of Alice’s ability to perform in front of all those people, the tv cameras and the judges. She couldn’t do it in a thousand years. Deep down, Sophie had to admit that Alice wasn’t really very good at performing either, but, she thought loyally, at least her cousin tried. Alice was a great skater, probably the best in the whole country for her age, but she got so nervous in competition that she almost always made a mess of it. That meant that she needed a lot of boosting up before the competition and a good shoulder to cry on after the competition. But Sophie didn’t mind. Alice was her cousin and her best friend. She’d do anything to help her.

As the school bus jounced over the snow ruts, Sophie smiled when she thought about Alice’s early visits to the farm. Alice was so beautiful and so accomplished that she’d terrified Sophie. Alice’s parents had always called her “Princess,” and that’s sure what she looked – and acted – like. Sophie had felt fat and frumpy compared to Alice with her wavy brown hair and her fancy clothes and her tv interview voice. Sophie never knew what to say or do, or how to entertain her during the visit. Alice always seemed disgusted with everything at the farm. It had made Sophie feel embarrassed.

But when Alice’s Mom was sick, Alice was so sad. She seemed to really need somebody and Sophie loved to be needed. That was when they started being friends. Thank goodness.

Sophie could tell Alice stuff by email that she would never dare tell her school friends face to face. And Alice could too. Now that they were both twelve, they were forever friends.

Day One

Monday, January 5, 1998

M
ontreal taxi drivers drive fast.

Alice liked to sit in front with Guillaume, the driver who always picked her up at the rink in the morning to take her to school, then took her from school back to the rink in the afternoon. Guillaume could change lanes, squeeze through traffic and find all the green lights without ever honking the horn or touching the brakes. It was like being in a race car. And he talked non-stop the whole time. He talked about his family, his job and the other drivers on the road. Best of all, he told her stories. Stories of old Québec, of the
loup-garou
and the Flying Canoe. Sometimes Alice didn’t want to get out of the car when they arrived at the arena until Guillaume finished his story. He was amazing. Alice loved driving with him.

“Bonjour, ma petite!”
cried Guillaume as she opened the car door.
“Comment ça va?”

“Bien, merci,”
replied Alice, as Guillaume turned out of the school lot.

“Not so good out here. This freezing rain – bah! Hope you’re not in a hurry. Some crazy drivers out there, eh?!”

Alice giggled. Guillaume was the craziest one of all. But even he was being careful. All around them, cars were slipping and sliding. Guillaume got stuck behind a fender bender, then made a quick turn to get around it, only to be stopped by another minor accident. Traffic ground to a halt. Guillaume turned again. Alice tightened her seatbelt, but she wasn’t scared. She was with Guillaume. He eased through a back alley to get around the traffic jam. Then all the street lights went out.

“Santa Maria!”
swore Guillaume.

“What happened?” asked Alice.

“The blackout, that’s what,” replied Guillaume. “All this ice, it take down a wire someplace close, kill the lights. No problem for Guillaume, but these other drivers, they know nothing. Don’t know how to drive with no lights. Idiot!” Guillaume shook his fist at the driver in the next lane. Then he honked his horn. Alice raised her eyebrows. Guillaume never honked his horn. The driving must really be bad.

The streetlights flashed back on. Traffic started moving again. Guillaume turned to his passenger.

“You sure I shouldn’t take you home? No skating today?”

Alice shrugged her shoulders. “I have to go, Guillaume. My coach will be waiting.” Then she grinned at him. “I’m used to ice, don’t you know?!”

Guillaume cracked a smile then frowned again. “What if no lights? All close down?
Ma petite
will freeze to death on her precious ice.”

But the lights were on at the arena. Guillaume took Alice right to the door. He didn’t want to let her go. “Guillaume all finished for today. If the lights go out before Papa comes, you call me at home. I’ll come get you. Promise?”

Alice promised. Guillaume could definitely be counted on as a friend. He waited until she was safe inside the building before he drove away.

Alice hoisted her heavy bag onto her shoulder. Now it was power skate, then freeskate, then off-ice ballet class, then solo practice.

|||||

Sophie couldn’t concentrate.
Her thoughts were stuck in the barn. How was Adalie doing? Was the calf born? Would it be a girl or a boy? Maybe Sébastien was right, that crazy kid. Maybe she should have told Maman how much she wanted to be with Adalie today. Sophie’s feelings about the farm were getting a bit confused. Maman and Papa kept telling her that she didn’t have to be a farm girl, that she could be anything she wanted to be. She wasn’t sure she liked having so much choice. What was wrong with the farm? She loved every inch of it. Sophie was grateful when the bell rang.

She didn’t stay grateful for long. Even though it was January and the temperature was below zero, it was still raining outside. Horrible freezing rain that hurt her face. Cold drops that froze onto her eyebrows and eyelashes. Ugh. Every year they got freezing rain at least once. Sophie was never sure why it didn’t fall as snow. It had something to do with cold air and warm air smacking into each other; they’d studied it at least four times, but she couldn’t remember the details. The freezing rain never lasted long, but it made life miserable. To make matters worse, the school buses were late. Probably because the freezing rain had laid an invisible coating of ice on top of everything and the snowy roads were turning into skating rinks. Sophie looked around until she found Sébastien, who was busy filming some shadow only he could see.

The school bus was an hour late. And the trip home was excruciatingly slow. Sure, the driver wanted to be careful, kids on board and all that, but why today?! Sophie was on pins and needles with worry about Adalie. As soon as the doors opened at the end of their lane, Sophie flew down the steps, only to slip on the ice and fall flat on her
derrière.
The kids on the bus exploded with laughter. How mortifying. Sophie reached her hand out to Sébastien, who was just standing there staring at her.

He pulled her up. “Can you do it again so I can film it?” he said with an absolutely straight face. As usual, Sophie couldn’t tell if he was being serious or cracking a joke. She just glowered at him, and stomped up the slippery lane. Sébastien headed towards the warm glow that was the kitchen. Sophie went straight to the maternity pen.

Adalie mooed gently when Sophie came close. At her feet was the most beautiful calf Sophie had ever seen. Already standing on wobbly legs, the little heifer had enormous brown eyes and unbelievably long eyelashes. A broad smile stretched across Sophie’s face, one that turned into a giggle as the calf’s front legs slowly slid out from under her as if she were on ice skates. The calf looked surprised to find her chin resting on the ground and her four legs sticking out all around her like a starfish. She struggled to stand up again.