Green Mountain Academy, page 10
I stood on unsteady legs and windmilled my arms, trying to bring the blood back into them. Then I tucked the laces into my shoe and boot as well as I could.
Light. My hands were clumsy as I tried to dig my flashlight from my pocket. Clumsiness, I knew, was a sign of hypothermia. I needed warmth, a fire. But I also needed to find Diamond and get help for her brother.
Even finding the flashlight from where it had dropped into the depths of my backpack was difficult. I brought up the one-burner stove, then the fuel canister, then my cup, and finally the flashlight. I switched it on and did a sweep of the area.
“Diamond!” I shouted.
There was no answer, but a slight movement flickered in the corner of my right eye. I turned and focused the light on that area, calling Diamond again. Then I saw it. Covered in snow and lying on the rock about twenty feet away, a mound had shifted. My light caught the red of her jacket.
“I thought you were a snowdrift,” I shouted. In a way she was. The wind had piled the snow into a peaked blanket thrown over her body. A crazy relief rushed through me like warmth. Seconds later, it turned to fear. Why was she lying there? And how long had she been like that?
My cold feet moved like bricks on the ends of my legs. Clumsily, I clambered over the jumble of snow-covered rocks toward the lump that was Diamond.
When I reached her, I knelt down and brushed the snow from her head and face.
“Wake up, Diamond.”
She shifted and opened her eyes.
“Wake up,” I repeated. “You have to get up. You have to get warm.”
“I’m warm. I’m tired,” she whispered.
“No, you aren’t warm. You’re freezing. You have to get up now.”
Her eyes closed again. I threw the flashlight beam in a wide circle, looking for a place to shelter. The caves were sheltered, I thought, but we couldn’t go down there. We might never be found. It was hard to see anything through the driving snow, but the shape of two large firs loomed not too far away. Close enough to help Diamond walk to them. Maybe.
“Let’s go.” I took her arm to help her up.
“I’m okay here. I’m comfortable.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not okay.” I took a breath. I had to keep the panic down, keep my voice calm but firm.
“You have to trust me. We have to help John-Lee. He’s in the cave, I heard him.”
“John-Lee?”
“Yes. I need you to help me. We need to rescue him.”
“I don’t think I can. Franny, can you go get help?”
“I will. I promise. But you need to get warmed up first. Come on. You need to get up.”
“Okay.”
Slowly, Diamond rose, pushing with one hand on the rock and balancing with the other on my arm. As she straightened, she cried out sharply, then sucked in her breath.
“Maybe I did a bit more damage than I thought,” she whispered.
Was I right to tell her to move? Injured people are supposed to stay put. But she’d already climbed down out of a tree and wandered around a rock-strewn forest. I didn’t think another few feet of walking would make much difference. And she couldn’t stay stretched out on a cold rock with wind piling snow over her.
Gingerly, carefully, Diamond put one foot in front of the other.
“You make a good cane, Franny,” she said. “You’re a strong girl.”
She didn’t say “for such a little thing” or “for such a skinny twig” or any of the things people usually said, which they somehow thought were okay to say about thin girls, even though they’d never say them to chubby girls. I felt a swell of pride. Diamond could lean on me. Literally.
“Wait right here.” I dug in the snow under the tree for a branch, then I used it to shake the limbs above so the snow that they held gave way, landing with a whump. Then I spread the small tarp I’d brought on the ground.
“Okay.” I guided her to the protected spot and helped her lower herself to the tarp.
“That’s sore,” Diamond said, wincing. She took a deep breath. “You said you heard John-Lee?”
“Yes, I think so.” I took out my matches and the other wax pine cone. “I was in the cave looking for a way out. I heard moaning and I think someone was calling for help.”
“Did he know you were there?”
“I don’t think he could hear me.”
“Oh, poor John-Lee. If only I hadn’t lost my phone in the crash.”
“It wouldn’t work out here anyway,” I said.
I quickly stripped some dead branches from the fir tree. There wasn’t much that snow hadn’t covered. I moved like someone with no fingers or toes. My teeth had begun to chatter. Not only was I cold, but the running shoe on my left foot was now wet. If I didn’t get this fire going, we’d both be in trouble.
I looked at Diamond. She was beginning to slump, her eyes struggling to stay open.
“Try to keep moving your arms and feet. You have to stay awake.”
“Catch me,” she sang in barely a whisper. “Just because you see me run, doesn’t mean you’re not the one. Catch me.”
The song helped. I remembered sweeping the kitchen floor as Grace wiped the counters, Meredith polished the hood fan over the stove, Ming scrubbed the sink and Danny stood on a stepladder to clean the bugs out of the light fixtures, all of us singing at the top of our lungs, “Catch me!”
Even Lill and Lucy sang along as they carried in boxes of supplies from their biweekly run to town and put them on the dining room table. A pot of chili simmered on the stove, its spicy aroma mixing with the clean scent of lemon dish soap. The school building with its solid wood beams glowing warmly in the bright morning sunlight felt so safe then, so perfect and protected, like nothing could touch us, nothing could change or break our circle of happiness.
But that was before I read Lucy’s email. That was before her brother’s threat to close the school by Christmas. I was sorry I’d read the email. It was better not to know. Wasn’t it?
I struggled to light the fire. One match, two matches, three matches, each one flared briefly, then died out, leaving a small curl of smoke to twist into the wind.
“Franny.” Diamond interrupted her song. I turned to her. She sat up a little straighter and with shaky fingers, unzipped her red leather jacket.
Just then I remembered Mom’s sweater I’d stuffed in my pack. As I pulled it out, Diamond pulled some rolled-up sheets of paper from her inside pocket. Her hand shook violently as she handed them to me.
“My new song,” she said. “I was writing it on the plane. Guess what it’s called.”
I wrapped the sweater around her shoulders and took the papers from her.
“Burn Me Once!” She laughed weakly, then winced in pain. “That’s what it’s called. How perfect is that? Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me…Start the fire with it.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s perfect. Anyway, I’ve pretty much memorized the lyrics. And we need heat.”
I crumpled Diamond’s new song into three tight balls, then tucked them around the wax pine cone and teepeed twigs over that. I had some larger branches beside me to add once it got going. Meanwhile, I struggled to keep the panic down. All of this was taking too long and we needed to get to John-Lee before—well, before something even worse happened to him.
I knew Diamond was thinking the same thing. She was trying to keep me calm and focused. Her voice shaky with cold, she sang me a bit of her new song. “There won’t be a third time. I’m setting myself free. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me.”
I lit another match and touched it to the paper. This time it caught and lit the waxed pine cone. It flared to life and the twigs ignited. As I fed it bigger branches, the welcome heat radiated out like a warm embrace.
“Amazing!” said Diamond.
“Can you move closer?”
She tried to push herself up with her hands, but she collapsed with a cry of pain.
“It’s okay,” she said when she saw my worried look. “I can feel the heat. Thank you, Franny.”
I warmed my hands, getting as close as I could without burning myself. Then I took off my boot and the shoe and warmed my feet and socks.
“Franny? Do you have two different shoes? And is that my running shoe?”
I laughed. “It’s a long story. But yes. I hope it’s okay.”
“Okay?” she said. “I’m honored.”
When my socks began to steam and my feet were warmer, I gingerly shoved them back into the cold footwear. I fished out the squares of chocolate and snapped one off for Diamond. I put the rest away in case we needed it later.
“Eat this. It’ll help. And drink this water.” I took out a water bottle.
“You eat it. You need it more than me.”
“No, I’m fine,” I said, although I really wanted that chocolate.
Diamond took it reluctantly.
“It’s frozen,” she said.
“Just let it melt in your mouth. It’ll help you stay awake.”
I broke more branches from the tree above us and piled them near Diamond. Her head had dropped to her chest. I shook her awake.
“I’m going for help now,” I said. “You have to stay awake. You have to keep the fire going so I can find you again. And find John-Lee.”
“Yes, okay. I’ll write more verses to my song. That’s what I do when I’m on a long road trip and trying to stay awake at the wheel. I sing verses to the songs I’m writing.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Sing loud.”
I pulled my hood tighter and took a step away from the warmth of the fire.
“Franny?”
“Yes?”
“I’m worried about you walking into that storm all alone. Do you know where you’re going?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
As I plunged back into the storm, I realized that I hadn’t really answered her question.
chapter fourteen
Trusty old tree.
In the swirl of snow and bite of cold, the solid trunk of the bent pine appeared like arms reaching out for me. I shuffled through the snow that had piled around it and put my hands on the rough bark. I had the strange feeling then that the world around me had disappeared and I was all on my own. Except for the bent pine.
“I’m still here,” it seemed to say. Its friendliness rushed through my bones, bringing a spark of warmth. I sheltered under the tree to catch my breath.
Something had bent the pine when it was young—a hard wind, an animal? But it had not broken. It had bent and kept growing, becoming unique and strong. Tears filled my eyes, but they were not tears of fear or helplessness.
The storm would end. The morning would come. These were things I knew for sure.
* * *
After I’d left Diamond, I’d fought my way through the slashing wind, stepping carefully among the rocks so I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Diamond’s song carried on the wind, getting fainter and fainter until I couldn’t be sure what was her voice and what was the song of the trees straining to stay upright in the storm.
Now, as I held onto the bent pine, I wondered how much longer I could walk in the cold. My foot in the boot still had feeling in the toes when I wiggled them, but the foot in Diamond’s running shoe was numb. Maybe I could just rest for a few minutes under the shelter of the pine. I tilted my head back to see if there were branches loaded with snow that could dump on me if I lay down underneath them.
Suddenly a white streak of light blazed across a triangle of sky that I glimpsed through the branches. Lightning. Was there such a thing as lightning in a winter storm? I was pretty sure I’d heard of that. Thundersnow, it was called.
Unless I’d just imagined it. Maybe I was seeing things. I looked at my watch. Quarter to two in the morning. I’d been awake for almost twenty hours. I could be hallucinating.
I stepped out from under the branches and looked up into the snow-fuzzed sky again. But it wasn’t a hallucination. A sweep of light like the Milky Way washed the sky for a few seconds and then disappeared. Then it passed over again.
I was sure then that it wasn’t lightning. It was too regular. Two in the morning. Where would it be coming from? It was too far to the east to be coming from the school. East of the school was…the tower.
Yes!
I squealed in joy. If the wind hadn’t been roaring so hard, anyone within eight kilometers probably would have heard me.
Someone was in the old fire tower, sending a signal. And that someone had to be Danny.
I shook off my pack and pulled the knocked-over platform back to the tree. Then I grabbed the rope we’d tied in it and boosted myself up onto the flattish part of the trunk. From here I could reach another sturdy limb and pull myself to standing. This was the spot Danny and I had worked out for signaling to the fire tower.
I switched on my flashlight. My hands trembled, but now it was with excitement. I flashed three short bursts of light into the storm, followed by three long and then three short again. SOS. Danny would recognize the signal we’d practiced. If she could see it through the thick-slanting snow.
That must be why she had beamed her signal into the sky like a searchlight. I climbed a bit higher to get clear of the overhanging branches. Now I had a line of sight to the open sky. I sent the SOS signal into the night and crossed the frozen fingers of both hands. A cloud of breath billowed around my face. I stomped my icy feet carefully on the tree limb, trying to warm my blood.
No response came. But it had to be Danny. There was nothing else around here for miles and miles. Should I climb down and continue on the path?
I tried again—three short bursts, three long, three short.
Then, disaster. As I tried to put my flashlight carefully in my jacket pocket, I missed the pocket altogether and the light went clattering to the ground and blinked out. But as I looked up from where it had fallen, the sign came back: three quick flashes that meant I saw you, I’ll get help.
I was so happy I grabbed the rope and swung down to the ground in one smooth monkey-move. I sifted in the snow and found the flashlight, then picked it up and knocked it against my hand. But it was no good. The light was out. And with my fingers like frozen sausages, I couldn’t try to fix it. I shoved it in my pocket and kicked myself again for not taking the time to pack my headlamp.
Now I just had to wait. I hunched against the pelting snow and wind, snugging my face into the front of my jacket. But I was freezing. There was no way I could stand here and wait. I had to keep walking, light or no light.
For a moment, I wondered if I was thinking clearly. Cold and fatigue can cause your brain to slow down like water in a stream turning to slush. Lill had taught us that during winter safety classes. I had no flashlight. I could lose the path. Danny and I had lost it coming back—was that just this afternoon? It seemed like days had passed.
I could make a fire and wait here by the bent pine. But the effort that would take seemed overwhelming. Besides, Diamond and John-Lee couldn’t last much longer out there. If I could get to the school soon, I could help to organize the rescue. And that, I was pretty sure, made good sense. My mind hadn’t turned to slush yet.
I took the turn for Fire Tower Trail and set out, almost at a run. The path here was well-groomed and wide. Lill and Lucy trimmed the undergrowth back in late spring. The girls helped keep it under control when we went for hikes, snipping back any new growth that had spread to the path. In October, a tree had fallen across it in one of the big storms and Lill had to bring out the chainsaw. She sawed it in two places then dragged the log to the side of the path.
Lucy said that Lill had every tool known to humankind. That was when Lill had fired up the leaf blower during our English class. Lucy had looked out the window and shaken her head. “Raking leaves used to be a peaceful activity,” she said quietly in a lull from the noise.
During another English class, Lucy had looked over at the window and then done a double take. All of us turned to see Lill’s legs disappearing up the rungs of a ladder, the small chainsaw hanging from one hand.
Lucy threw open the window and shouted, “Lill, what are you doing?”
“I’m trimming the branches near the roof,” Lill shouted back.
“I told you before to ask for help!”
“I’m perfectly fine!”
They fought, like any sisters fought, but somehow their fights always had a bit of love in them.
But you have to fight back when someone says something mean. Don’t you? Mom calls that taking the bait. I hardly ever fought with my twin sister, Phoebe. But when it mattered the most, I took the bait. My mind drifted back to that summer day at Gem Lake. I could feel myself slipping down into the memory when suddenly a fallen tree appeared, blocking my path. It was buried in snow and I’d almost walked right into it. It could have come down in this storm, but it had the look of something that had been here for a long time.
I turned and looked behind me. Another fallen tree lay in what I thought was the path I’d come down. It, too, was buried in snow. But that was impossible. That wasn’t the path, obviously. But where was it? Between those two trees? Or those? And where was it in front of me? Was I even on the path? A whirlwind of snow shape-shifted around me. I was dizzy with it.
My mind had not been here in the winter storm. It had been off in the green summer woods with hummingbirds darting from tree to flower and sun shimmering on the lake. A clammy sweat prickled my skin, though I was still freezing. It was the sweat of fear. I could not be lost. I could not have done the same thing Danny and I had done earlier in the day. I’d been so sure of where I was going.
Nothing looked right: nearby, snow-covered tree trunks, straight, swaying, then the wild slanting flurry of pelting snow. I had to calm down. I breathed in; my exhaled breath came out ragged, choppy.
