Whiteout by Becky Citra Page A

bones!” like she always did.
    Robin raced the rest of the way to the house. She stamped her snowy boots on the mat and went inside. The smell of burnt raisins hit her like a wall. A pot of mincemeat was bubbling over on the stove. Robin turned off the burner. She sucked in her breath.
    What was going on? And why was the house so quiet? She peered into the living room. Molly was sprawled on her stomach, coloring a picture of a sleigh full of presents. She was scribbling over the lines with a red crayon. Totally un-Molly.
    Robin frowned. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
    “They’re upstairs talking. Gran phoned while we were out.” Molly picked up a green crayon and scratched at the paper covering with her fingernail.
    Robin stared at the pile of torn crayon wrappings. “Don’t do that, Molly. You’re making a mess.”
    She swallowed an uneasy feeling. She went upstairs and stood in the hallway beside her parents’ bedroom door. She could hear their voices, a little bit of Mom and a lot of Dad. Robin knocked. “It’s me.”
    “We’ll be out in a minute,” said Dad.
    And then Mom. “No, Mike. Come in, honey. And get Molly.”
    Molly was already there, squeezed up against Robin. She raced into the bedroom and scrambled up on the bed beside Mom.
    Mom had been crying. Robin saw that right away. A thin icy prickle crawled up her back.
    Dad stood up. He kept one hand on Mom’s hair. “Gran phoned while we were getting the tree. There’s been an accident.”
    Robin’s head filled with a roaring noise. It was suddenly impossible to breathe.
    “Whiteout conditions...twenty-car pileup...” The thunder in Robin’s head drowned out Dad’s words. She pressed her hands against her legs.
    “Liz’s car slid sideways,” Dad was explaining in a steady voice. “A truck hit the driver’s side. April has some bruises and cuts, but she’s okay.” Dad reached down and covered Mom’s hand with his own. “Liz has been taken to the hospital, and Gran will phone us back as soon as there’s news.”
    Questions spilled out of Molly. Did Aunty Liz get to ride in an ambulance? Was Gran going to sleep at the hospital too, like Mom did when Molly had pneumonia? Could they still come for Christmas anyway?
    Molly didn’t get it. Robin pressed her fingernails into the palm of her hand.
    Her little sister finally wound down, like a balloon losing air. “Are we still going to have supper and decorate the tree?” Molly asked in a small voice.
    “Of course.” Dad charged into action. “Come on, Mol. Let’s go on a scavenger hunt in the freezer.”
    Robin stared out the window. From here, the lights on the barn looked like they were suspended in nothingness. Red and green and blue stars.
    Last night, on the phone, Aunty Liz had promised. “We’ll do our best to get there, sweetie. Our very best.”
    A sick feeling washed over Robin when she thought of her reply. “You have to come, Aunty Liz. Please, please, please . I’ll never ever forgive you if you don’t.”
    If only she could make those words go away. Maybe then Aunty Liz and April would never have tried to come.
    The Christmas lights blurred together, and Robin blinked hard. Behind her, Mom said, “The important thing now is to save Christmas for you and Molly.”
    The bedroom door closed softly. Robin hugged her arms to her chest, but she couldn’t stop shivering.

Chapter Two
    Christmas happened and it didn’t happen. Dad was on the phone a lot.
    “A terrible shock...months of rehabilitation... broken legs...a crushed pelvis...No, the doctors don’t know yet...Not the Christmas everyone expected... We’re going through the motions anyway.”
    Going through the motions.
    When they opened their presents and Robin saw her new cross-country skis, for a few minutes she managed to forget. Dad stuck a bow on Hurly’s collar, which made everyone laugh, and Robin’s gray cat, Jellybean, tunneled into the mounds of wrapping paper. The afternoon was harder. Robin and Molly