* * *
The night passed quietly. Holly woke up once after a bad dream, but Mme Duprès helped her to go back to sleep. The older dancers and I slept in one of the other practice rooms, boys on one side, girls on the other — Mme Noelle in the middle.
I woke up at six o’clock with a stiff neck. (I wasn’t used to sleeping on my coat, either.) I rolled my head around, trying to loosen the tense muscles. Then I stood up and peered out a window. Day was breaking. The snow was letting up and the sky was cloudy-bright.
By eight o’clock, everyone was up — and the phone was ringing off the hook. The storm was over. Parents would arrive as soon as the roads had been cleared. Quint waited on a phone line to call his parents. They had been worried, needless to say, but not much. They’d thought Quint (and I) were at my house in Stoneybrook. By the time they had realized just how bad the storm had become, the phones in Stoneybrook were already out of order, so they’d assumed Quint was safe but unreachable. (Which was the truth, in any case.)
When the phone calls died down, Mme Noelle announced, “Zee coffee shop across zee street eez open, and Mr. Wozneski, zee owner, has agreed to give us free breakfasts. Everybody, put on your coats!”
We ventured outside, Quint holding my hand. The plows had not come through Stamford yet, so we waded across the street. By the time we reached the coffee shop, most of us were soaked. But we didn’t care. We were Mr. Wozneski’s only customers — and we took up nearly every booth. (Quint and I sat by ourselves at a small table.) After a night of instant soup, any food seemed wonderful, and Mr. Wozneski fed us a feast while we dried out.
“This is kind of romantic,” I whispered to Quint, as we bit into these bran-and-raisin muffins. (Dawn would have been proud of us.) “Snowbound at dance school, a cozy breakfast at a table for two.”
“Yeah,” said Quint. “And this is only the beginning. We still have two days together — and the dance tomorrow night.”
“I hope the dance is still on,” I said.
“If it isn’t,” replied Quint, “it won’t matter. You and I will go to some other dance, some other time.”
We were scraping bottom. Everyone of us ate something that morning, but a lot of the food was strange (for breakfast), and Adam was the only one who left the table with a full stomach.
“Maybe,” said Margo, “we could cook something new …”
“Like what?” I asked. (She was eyeing that box of frosting mix.)
“Spaghetti with chocolate frosting?” she suggested.
“Oh, barf,” said Adam.
“Just because you had a chicken dinner —” Nicky began to say.
“The freezer is full of vegetables,” Mallory pointed out.
“I’d rather eat Margo’s spaghetti,” said Jordan.
“My tummy aches,” said Claire.
“Uh-oh,” I replied.
“It’s hungry. It’s growling at me.”
“Maybe Pizza Express is open now!” cried Mal.
“Oh, good idea.” I’d almost gotten used to not having a phone. I realized I could order in food now. So I called Pizza Express. No answer. Then I called Chicken Wings (their ad: Speedy delivery, and service with a fryer). No answer. I called Tokyo House, even though it didn’t open until noon, and even though Margo won’t touch Japanese food. No answer. I called Chez Maurice, a fancy French restaurant that had probably never even heard of take-out service. No answer.
After that I phoned Logan.
“I’m hungry,” I whined to him, before I said hello or good morning or anything civil. And before I’d asked him how he’d survived the storm.
“I’m sorry,” Logan replied. “Where are you? At the Pikes’?”
“Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Pike got stuck in New York. They didn’t come home last night. We’re fine, though. Just hungry. There isn’t much food left. Did anything interesting happen to you during the blizzard?”
“Nah,” said Logan. “Well, except for when the power went out. Mom tried to call the electric company to tell them and then she found out the phone didn’t work, either. She was really mad. But then she calmed down and she and Dad and Hunter and Kerry and I played Monopoly by the fireplace.”
“Ooh, that sounds cozy,” I said. “We didn’t think of making a fire.”
“We wouldn’t have been allowed to make one,” spoke up Mal from across the kitchen. “Not unless the heat had gone off, too.”
“What?” said Logan.
“Mal was saying we wouldn’t have been allowed to light a fire,” I repeated. Then I said, “Guess what. Pizza Express isn’t open.”
“You’re kidding!” exclaimed Logan. “The pizza place is closed at nine o’clock on a morning when we’re snowed in and the plows haven’t come through yet? What a shock.”
I laughed. “Okay, okay. Just remember you’re speaking to a person who ate a tiny bowl of instant oatmeal for breakfast.”
Byron nudged me. “Can I talk to Logan?” he asked.
“Sure.” I handed him the phone.
“Now,” said Byron, “you’re speaking to a person who ate a single piece of baloney for breakfast.”
I don’t know what Logan replied, but whatever it was, it made Byron laugh and exclaim, “Oh, gross!” He gave the phone back to me.
“Mary Anne?” said Logan. “You know, I could —”
“Oh!” I cried, interrupting him. “I just remembered something.” I was looking out the kitchen window at the back of Stacey’s house.
“What’s wrong?” asked Logan.
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t know if anything is wrong. Last night we tried to call the McGills and there was no answer. This was after dinner, when the storm was really bad. And we didn’t see any lights at their house. But then the phones and stuff went out. I should try to call now.”
“You should call Dawn, too,” said Mal. “See if Jeff got in all right. And tell your dad we’re doing okay.”
I nodded. “Logan, we should hang up so I can make some calls, okay?”
“Okay. See you later.” And then he added softly, “Love you.”
“ ’Bye,” I said. I knew Logan would understand why I hadn’t replied, “Love you, too.” (The triplets would not have let me hear the end of it.)
I dialed Stacey’s number. No one answered. “That’s really weird,” I said to Mal. “Where could they be? Does it look like they’re home?”
“I can’t tell,” Mal answered, peering out the window. “Are you sure you dialed her number right?”
I was pretty sure, but I dialed it again anyway. No answer.
“Call Dawn,” said Mal, frowning.
My dad answered the phone. “At least you’re home!” I exclaimed. “Can I talk to Dawn, please? Oh, and we’re fine, Dad.”
“Mary Anne, Dawn isn’t here,” said my father.
“Oh. Where is she?”
“Still at the airport. Jeff’s plane was rerouted to Washington because of the storm, and then the airport closed and Dawn and Sharon were stuck there overnight. I didn’t hear from Sharon until a couple of hours ago.”
“Oh, Dad!” I exclaimed. “You must have been scared to death.” (Sheesh, and I was complaining because I hadn’t eaten enough oatmeal that morning.)
“I was pretty nervous,” my father agreed. “But I’d heard on the transistor radio that the airport had been closed down, so I was hoping that’s where they were. I certainly was relieved when the phone rang this morning.”
“I guess so,” I said. I was going to tell Dad about Stacey, but before I could, our doorbell rang. “I better go,” I said. “Someone’s at the door, and half the Pikes aren’t dressed yet. I’ll call you later. ’Bye!”
“Who’s that?” yelled Vanessa, dashing upstairs in her nightgown.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “How could anyone have gotten over here? Nothing’s plowed yet. You’d need snowshoes to get around.” I peeked out the front window. “Or skis,” I added.
You’ll never in a million years guess who (what?) was posed
in front of the Pikes’ front door.
Logan. And his cross-country skis. A knapsack was strapped to his back.
“I come bearing food,” said Logan solemnly.
“I don’t believe it!” I cried, laughing, as Logan stepped inside.
“Hello, everybody!” he called. “I have food!”
“We’re saved!” yelled Margo from her room.
A little while later, the Pike kids (dressed) and Logan and I were crowded around the kitchen table, which was loaded with bananas, peanut butter, bread, crackers, and carrot sticks.
“Real food,” said Nicky, sighing with happiness.
“Logan,” I said a while later as the younger kids drifted away from the table, “do you think we’ll still have the dance tomorrow night?”
“The Winter Wonderland Dance,” murmured Mal. “I’d almost forgotten about it. Gosh, I hope we have it.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Logan. “Not for tomorrow. That snow is deep. Maybe the dance will be postponed until next week.”
“It can’t be postponed!” said Mal. “Ben and I can’t wait until next week!”
“Mallory, can we go outside?” yelled Claire.
“Sure,” Mal answered. “It’s okay, isn’t it, Mary Anne? This may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. What with global warming and all.”
The Pike kids put on their layers of outdoor clothes. They spent the morning building a fancy sledding track in the backyard. Then they sailed along it on just about everything except a sled — a saucer, a toboggan, a tray, their stomachs.
At one point, Logan skied over to Stacey’s house. He rang the front doorbell. He knocked at their kitchen door. Then he skied back to me.
“No one came to the doors, and their car’s gone,” he reported.
“That is so weird,” I said. “Do you think we should call Claud?”
“What if Claud doesn’t know where she is, either?” replied Mallory. “We’ll just worry her. Besides, Mrs. McGill is gone, too. I’m sure they’re together, wherever they are. They probably just got stuck, like Dawn did.”
At that point I became convinced that Stacey and her mom had been in some horrible car accident during the storm. But since I have a reputation as a big worrywart, I kept my mouth closed.
In case you can’t tell, I did not exactly appreciate having to get up at the crack of dawn on a snow day in order to make myself look great, but that’s what I did. I was not about to let Bart catch me with morning breath, sleepy eyes, and bed hair. So when my alarm went off, I tiptoed out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom.
I locked myself in.
Then I rummaged around in the cabinet under the sink.
I had decided that I might as well shave my legs for the first time.
Lucky for me, I found an electric razor and the power was back on. I stuck the plug into an outlet. Bzzzzz went the razor. I ran it up and down my legs. When I had finished, my legs didn’t look much different, although they certainly felt naked. What was the big deal?
I turned my attention to my face and hair. Against my better judgment I took a shower. The pipes in Watson’s house (my house) are old and make a lot of noise. An early-morning shower on a snow day would not be appreciated. Oh, well. I did not see that I had a choice.
After my shower, I got out a blow dryer. It’s Charlie’s, believe it or not, but I didn’t think he’d mind if I borrowed it. Then I found an old curling iron. I was about to use it when I decided I could probably electrocute myself since my hair was wet, so first I blew my hair dry and then I curled it. (My hair wound up looking and feeling like limp macaroni. A headband only made things worse.)
Well, on to makeup.
All I own is a leftover tube of mascara and a container of blush, powder form. Even though I wanted to wear eye shadow and stuff, I figured the mascara and blush would be challenging enough. Besides, Mom has all the good makeup, and I couldn’t very well sneak through her room and into her bathroom at six A.M. So I had to make do.
When I had finished with the makeup, it looked great. It really did. And I had been in the bathroom for just an hour and a half.
I was no longer the only person up.
Darn. I had not counted on that. From my neck up I looked fantastic. Well, except for my macaroni hair. But below my neck I looked … I looked … like a person in her nightgown. With naked legs. And I did not want Bart to see that. Frankly, I did not want anyone to see me, since I had an idea that, all in all, I might appear sort of odd. But as I said, I wasn’t the only one up.
I unlocked the bathroom door, planning to listen for a moment, hear nothing but silence, and make a dash for my room. Unfortunately, as soon as I unlocked the door I heard Sam say, “Geez, Kristy, it’s about time!”
“What are you doing up?” I hissed.
“I want to enjoy every second of this day off from school,” he replied. “How long have you been in there? And what are you doing? You never act like such a girl. I didn’t think I’d have to go through this until Karen was thirteen.”
“By which time you’ll be twenty-one and not living here anymore, I hope.”
“Very funny.”
“Sam, just go back to your room for a sec, please,” I said urgently.
“What about me?” said a second voice.
“David Michael?” I asked.
“Yeah. Kristy, I hafta go.”
“Use your own bathroom,” I said. (He and Karen and Andrew and Emily share a bathroom.)
“This one’s closer.”
“All right.” I heaved an enormous sigh. Then I opened the door and strode into the hall. My brothers, each wearing a T-shirt and sweat pants, were leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. When Sam got a look at me, his eyes bugged out. David Michael’s mouth dropped open.
“Wrong holiday, Kristy,” said Sam. “Christmas is coming, not Halloween.”
David Michael didn’t say anything. He just ran into the bathroom, laughing.
I don’t know who came to the conclusion that women gossip and men don’t. My friends and I have learned that this is completely wrong. Women and men both gossip. My brothers are prime examples of male gossipers. By the time everyone was awake and at the breakfast table on Thursday morning, Sam and David Michael had thoroughly spread the word about my appearance when I came out of the bathroom. Every head turned toward me as I slid into my place on the bench. (I noticed that Bart had been seated next to me.)
“ ’Morning, honey,” said Mom.
“Nice hair,” said Sam.
“Nice outfit,” said Charlie. (Since I thought I had put together a rather nice outfit, I wasn’t sure whether Charlie was being serious or sarcastic.)
“Nice makeup,” said David Michael, and slapped his hand over his mouth, giggling.
“Hey, Watson, can we install a timer in our bathroom?” asked Sam. “There should be a sixty-minute limit on primping.”
He turned to Andrew and said, in his best Mister Rogers voice, “Do you know what primping is, Andrew?” (Andrew frowned and shook his head.) “It’s making yourself beautiful.”
“For your … boyfriend?” asked Andrew.
“Mom!” I cried.
“Sam!” cried Mom.
“Andrew!” cried Sam.
Andrew glanced around the table. “Emily!” he said finally, and everybody laughed. Even I laughed.
And during the laughter, when no one could hear him, Bart whispered to me, “You look beautiful, Kristy.”
I relaxed. “Thanks,” I said.
Okay. I had made it. Bart had spent the night at my house. He had survived meals with my family. He had endured teasing by my brothers and sisters. And he hadn’t gone away. Emotionally, I mean. He was sitting next to me, telling me I looked beautiful.
If Bart and I could weather that, we could weather anything.
I began to think about something other than myself. The storm, for instance. As soon as breakfast was over I took a good look out the window. I found m
yself staring at an ocean of snow. It stretched from our front door, across the lawn, across the street, and across another lawn to Shannon Kilbourne’s front door. It stretched up and down our road, smooth and rolling, snowdrifts making waves against houses and fences and trees.
Bart stood beside me. “This is the most snow I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“I kind of wish the plows wouldn’t come by,” I replied. “They’ll ruin the view.”
“Plus, I won’t have any excuse to stay here,” added Bart. “I’ll have to go home.”
“Speaking of home,” I said, “I wonder if Jeff got in okay last night. I think I’ll call Dawn and Mary Anne.” So I did. “Well, for heaven’s sake,” I said to Bart when I’d hung up the phone. “Guess what. Neither Mary Anne nor Dawn was there. Mary Anne is still at the Pikes’ because Mr. and Mrs. Pike got stuck in New York. And Dawn is still at the airport! I didn’t hear anything about people stranded at the airport on the news this morning. Just that the power’s back on, the phones are working again, and what the current temperature is. I hope the newspaper has better stories.” Then it occurred to me to call the rest of my friends. Only Mallory was at home. She and Mary Anne were staying at her house until her parents returned.
“Call Stacey,” Mal said. “No one’s been able to reach her or her mom.”
I dialed the McGills’. No answer.
So I called Claudia. Mr. Kishi answered Claud’s phone. “She’s still at the Perkinses’,” he told me. “They couldn’t get home last night.”
Wow. Pretty interesting. Before I called Claud at the Perkinses’, I decided to phone Jessi. I wondered what sort of story she had.
“Jessi got stuck at dance school!” Becca told me excitedly. “Daddy couldn’t pick her up. She ate breakfast at a restaurant this morning. Quint, too. He’s with her. Mama and Daddy can’t get them until the plows come.”
I phoned Claud right away. “Do you have any idea what happened to the BSC last night?” I exclaimed. “Somebody should write about us. Hey, where’s Stacey? Mal’s all worried because Stace and her mom aren’t home.”
“They aren’t home?” Claud repeated. “That’s weird. Stacey called me yesterday afternoon. She wanted me to come to the mall with her because she was getting her hair permed. I know she didn’t have plans last night. She and her mom were supposed to be at home. I wonder where they could be.”
Snowbound Page 10
