Ice Storm Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book & Copyright Information

  Dedication

  Alice

  Sophie

  Day One

  Day Two

  Day Three

  Day Three - An Accident

  Day Four

  Day Five

  Day Six – The Shelter

  Day Six – The Farm

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Six Weeks Later

  Author's Notes

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  © Penny Draper, 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Edited by Barbara Sapergia

  Cover painting by Aries Cheung

  Cover design by Tom Dart

  Book design by Duncan Campbell

  Typeset by Susan Buck

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Draper, Penny, 1957-

  Ice storm / Penny Draper.

  (Disaster strikes; 6)

  ISBN 978-1-55050-451-4

  I. Title. II. Series: Draper, Penny, 1957- . Disaster strikes ; 6.

  PS8607.R36I34 2011 jC813'.6 C2011-900759-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011921841

  Available in Canada from:

  Coteau Books

  2517 Victoria Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan Canada S4P 0T2

  www.coteaubooks.com

  Coteau Books gratefully acknowledges the financial support of its publishing program by: the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.

  To Shirley and Ken of Hillandale Farm

  and the dairy farmers who put milk on our tables

  and to Aunt Margaret,

  who always had a tin of my favourite cookies waiting when I came to visit the farm

  Alice

  Alice hated her alarm clock.

  It had been such a lovely dream. She’d been skating, flying over the ice. Only her mother was watching; there was not a frowning judge anywhere. As her dream self gathered speed for the double axel, she’d felt absolute confidence deep inside. The landing was magic. Her mother’s smile lit up the arena.

  Then the alarm’s shrill scream ruined everything, pushing her mother’s face back into the fog of sleep. It was 5:00 a.m.

  Alice burrowed a little deeper under the covers. Having to give up her warm bed for a cold arena made her want to cry. But her skating pro would be waiting. And the junior Canadian championships were just around the corner.

  Alice had to skate all the time. It wasn’t fun any more.

  Trouble was, everyone said she was a great figure skater. A real star. So she had to skate, and too bad if it took every waking moment. Her dad did his part. He had to work long hours because ice time and skating pros cost a lot of money. They both kept doing it because it would have made her mother happy. That should have made it worth the effort, but Alice knew she was unhappy. No time, no life, no friends. Except for one – her cousin Sophie, who lived on a dairy farm near Saint-Hyacinthe. Sophie didn’t get to Montréal very often, although they emailed each other every day. Thank goodness for Sophie.

  They hadn’t always been friends. Their moms were sisters and thought the girls should be close because they were exactly the same age. But they’d never liked one another, not even when they were small. They were complete opposites. Dark and light. Tall and short. City and country. They didn’t even speak the same first language, because Sophie’s mom had married a francophone man and their family spoke French most of the time. When the families visited, Alice and Sophie always got pushed together, whether they liked it or not.

  Sophie hadn’t been interested in anything Alice had to say about the city and she’d thought it was funny that Alice knew nothing about life on a farm. And she’d been completely unimpressed by Alice’s skating.

  But all that had been three years ago, before Alice’s mom died. Everything was different now.

  Alice pulled her underwear and tights from beneath the covers at the bottom of her bed where they kept nice and warm. Sophie had taught her that. Scrunching down so that she was completely under the blanket, Alice made a small volcano as she wiggled into her bottom layer of practice clothes. Then she jumped out of bed and pulled on warm-up clothes over the tights. Next came her sweats.

  Almost ready to brave the cold outside, Alice took a minute to check her email. Soph had come through with her morning message. She had to get up as early as Alice to help with the cows.

  Sébastien went to a sleepover the other night and they told scary stories. Now he is sure that a loup-garou is coming. As if werewolves even existed! Yesterday he didn’t even know what one was. Now he thinks a monster is just waiting to bite him and change his life forever. He doesn’t even know if he should be excited or afraid and Alice, he’s always talking about it, even at school! I could just die of embarrassment. First time he’s ever been invited anywhere and it’s a disaster! Maman says she’s never letting him go to a sleepover again. Love Soph.

  Alice laughed out loud.

  Sébastien was Sophie’s little brother, a genius and a complete weirdo. He had these spooky green eyes that stared right into Alice’s brain, and he said things that made her think he actually came from another planet. Sébastien’s school said that he was “special” – too smart for the regular world. His report cards always had stuff like “needs constant challenge” and “unable to socialize with his peers.” He worried her Aunt Evie and Uncle Henri. But the grown-ups didn’t get that everything Sébastien said made perfect sense after you got past the weird part. He was just a little freaky. Sophie complained about him all the time but Alice wouldn’t have minded having Sébastien as her little brother. He practically was anyway.

  Alice went downstairs, collected her gear from the mudroom and headed to the car. It was raining. Perfect. It should be snowing in January, for heaven’s sake. Dad had the car warming up, sending great swirls of white exhaust to dance against the black sky. Alice slid in the front, hunkering down into the heated seat. Sweet. Dad had traded in his old car to get the heated seats, just for her. They were great, especially on a below-zero morning like today.

  How on earth could it rain?

  They didn’t talk much so early in the morning, not until they reached St-Viateur Bagels. The shop had their order ready: three black-seed and three white-seed. It was Mom who’d started the bagel tradition. The St-Viateur folks filled up Dad’s thermos with coffee and the two of them were back on the road, eating their first bagels straight from the bag, plain and hot. After that they were awake enough to chat about skating, school, Dad’s job at the power company, just stuff. Nothing important.

  When they got to the rink they both ate another bagel, this time with cream cheese and a cup of coffee from the thermos. Dad always brought milk and sugar to add to Alice’s cup. Mom would never have allowed it, so it was kind of like a secret even though, well, it really didn’t matter any more. The last two bagels were for her coach, Mr. Osborne. He was waiting, as usual. He was never late. It if weren’t for the fact that the routine had to start at 5:00 a.m., Alice could almost have enjoyed the quiet morning time.

  Alice start
ed her practice. Dad stayed to finish his coffee and read the newspaper. Then he came to the boards to give her a quick hug before he left for work. As soon as he left, Alice tackled her double axel. Sure, it was a hard jump. It was an extra half-revolution more than the other double jumps, and you had to take off going forward instead of backward, and you couldn’t use your toe pick to help you get into the air. But hard didn’t bother Alice. She landed it over and over and over again. It was easy in practice. She just couldn’t land it in competition. Ever.

  As usual, the practice went on too long. The taxi that took her to school was waiting, and she was late for school. But she never got in trouble: the teachers seemed to think she was some sort of celebrity or something. As if. The rest of the kids never noticed. To them, she didn’t even exist.

  The competition was so close. Alice’s nerves were already beginning to flare. She barely made it through her classes. She just couldn’t concentrate and was grateful when two o’clock came. That’s when the taxi came to take her back to the rink for four more hours of practice. Then Dad arrived to pick her up. Practice, practice, practice. She wished the judges would come and watch her, judge her, in secret. She didn’t want to have to see them. Then they’d find out what she could really do.

  Sophie

  Sophie 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

  Montreal 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.