Light as a Feather, Cold as Marble

Chapter 7

The snow continued falling all afternoon.

Around four o'clock the heavy flakes were dropping so steadily that it looked like a true blizzard through our front windows. By five, the streets were dark and the governor of Wisconsin had declared a state of emergency. Plows weren't out clearing the highways because it was a holiday and the union was having a hard time scaring up volunteers for the unexpected work, even despite the promise of overtime pay.

"Wow. Good thing I cleared out the garage last weekend," Mom commented, looking out our front window at the snowflakes illuminated by the light over our front door. During the rest of the year she left her car parked in the driveway because our garage filled so quickly with boxes of paperwork from the classes she taught, old clothes, old appliances, and projects neither of us were ever going to finish, like the antique buffet Mom had been staining for over two years. Cleaning the garage to make room for the car was a herculean task that she usually put off until the last possible moment. "The Waldbaums are going to be digging out for ages." Down the block, the elderly couple's Cadillac was engulfed in a snowbank, with only its shiny black roof visible.

I had texted Cheryl back agreeing to see a movie the next day in Ortonville, but hadn't determined the least offensive way to ask her if she'd unlock the high school for me. The request was something I already knew I'd put off until the following day, even though I was already queasy with anxiety about the enormity of the request. We needed to know if there was a medical reason why Violet had been bartering our friends' souls for her own, and if her own life was at risk. If there was, then at least we'd be equipped with the knowledge of Violet's motive for the unspeakably cruel game she'd invited us to play. If there was no evidence of Violet's health being compromised in any way, then we were back at the starting line.

Either way, our need to find out about Violet's medical issues was not exactly a high personal priority of Cheryl Guthries.' And since I'd been formally expelled from Weeping Willow High School, I had no choice but to believe that she would be risking expulsion, herself, if she were to provide me with access to school property. It was a lot to ask of a girl who was so serious about high school that she earned a perfect attendance award annually and was already planning to apply to the University of Wisconsin in Madison for early admission. I felt as if a dark cloud of guilt had positioned itself over my head, and no amount of my mother's Christmas cheer could make it go away.

Christmas Day had turned into a painfully long ordeal that felt a little hiding in a closet during Hide & Seek and not realizing that your playmate has given up the search for you. I passed the day in shifts of petting Maude on the couch and shoveling snow on our deck with a shovel from the garage to prevent us from being completely snowed in. I tried not to think about Violet, but kept reluctantly wondering about the long private road which led to her house. Surely no one would shovel that road; it was nearly a mile long. Perhaps the Simmons family owned a snow blower, but those ran on gasoline and probably wouldn't be powerful enough to clear the entire private drive. They'd probably need the town to send over a real snow plow to remove the nearly four feet of snow that had already fallen. There was no doubt in my mind: if Violet's father had driven home after I'd seen him at Hennessy's earlier in the day, the Simmons family was snowed in at their enormous mansion.

As I watched more holiday movies on television with my mom, I found myself thinking that it was a rotten shame that Trey, Mischa and I hadn't found a way to hide ourselves on the Simmons' property before the snow storm, because this would have been a perfect time to have forced Violet into another game like Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board. Surrounded by snow, there would have been nowhere for her to run, and no way for police to help her. Imagining the terror that would have been in Violet's voice if she tried to call the police while we circled in on her, I suddenly became more self-aware in our cozy living room and realized that I was squinting my eyes and smirking evilly. Feeling helpless all day was starting to get to me.