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    Whiteout
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    Ebook80 pages1 hour

    Whiteout

    By Becky Citra

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    About this ebook

    Robin can hardly wait for her cousin April and her Aunty Liz to come to the ranch for Christmas. When a devastating car accident sends Aunty Liz to the hospital for several months, Robin can't help but be overjoyed to learn that April will live with Robin and her family while her mother is recuperating. But April has changed, and Robin must deal with April's growing anger and resentment at being forced to leave her injured mother and her life in the city. Then Robin's little sister, Molly, disappears during a blizzard, and Robin and April's friendship faces the ultimate test.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateApr 1, 2009
    ISBN9781554697786
    Whiteout
    Author

    Becky Citra

    Becky Citra is the author of over twenty books, ranging from early chapter books to novels for young adults. She was an elementary school teacher for over twenty-five years and began writing for children in 1995. Becky's books have been shortlisted for and won many awards, including the Red Cedar Award, the Diamond Willow, the Silver Birch and the Sheila A. Egoff Children's Literature Prize. She lives in Salt Spring Island, British Columbia.

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      Book preview

      Whiteout - Becky Citra

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      Chapter One

      ...Heavy snowfall warning for Vancouver with thirty more centimeters expected tonight...Motorists are urged to stay off the roads unless absolutely necessary... Whiteout conditions...

      Robin snapped the radio off. She was totally sick of doom-and-gloom weather reports. She released the drain in the kitchen sink and stared out the window at the frozen lake and the dull gray sky.

      If the storm had waited just one more day, her cousin April and her Aunty Liz would already be here. They had planned to leave Vancouver that morning and make the six-hour drive to the ranch by midafternoon.

      One more day. The problem with Vancouverites was that they made a big deal out of a bit of snow. They should try living here at Bridge Lake where it snowed all winter long.

      Boots stamped on the back porch. Dad stuck his head in the door, letting in a sharp smell of cold and snow. Time to get the tree!

      What? Robin swung around. We always wait for April. She’ll kill us. She forced her voice to stay calm. Besides, the highway was open again this morning. Aunty Liz said they were going to try.

      It’s going to be dark soon, said Dad. He shouted into the living room. I need my tree-finding elf. Outside. Now.

      I’m coming! yelled Molly’s voice.

      With a huge sigh, Robin gave in. She bundled six-year-old Molly into her purple dinosaur snowsuit while Dad went outside to start the snowmobile.

      When they were ready, Molly clambered into the caboose behind the snowmobile. Their border collie, Hurly, leaped in beside her, wiggling with joy at being included. Then Robin climbed on the seat behind Dad and wrapped her arms around his puffy down jacket.

      Dad headed toward their ranch gate. High snow-drifts lined both sides of the road. It was like being in a long white tunnel. Robin closed her eyes and tipped her face into the sharp air. For a few minutes, she slid away from her disappointment and lost herself in the roar of the snowmobile and the cold.

      Just before the gate, Dad slowed the snowmobile to a stop and shut off the engine. The sudden silence settled over them like a soft blanket. Molly and Hurly clambered out of the caboose. They plunged up and down a snowbank, Molly puffing like a train and Hurly barking joyfully. Robin dug her mittens into her pockets and watched.

      Dad shook snow off a young spruce tree. This one?

      Robin shrugged. Sure. It looks fine.

      Dad tilted his head. Say that again.

      It’s fine. Robin hunched her shoulders.

      You’ve forgotten your lines. Dad raised his eyebrows. You’re supposed to say it’s too skinny, fat, tall, short, feeble, scrawny, none of the above or all of the above. You don’t say it’s fine until we look at every tree on this ranch and then come back to the first one we started with.

      Right, said Robin. This is the first tree. It’s fine.

      Hmmm. What do you think, Mol?

      Molly stopped halfway down the snowbank.

      It’s okay, she said.

      Then this is the one, said Dad.

      He pulled the cord on his chainsaw. It roared to life and sent Hurly scurrying behind the snowmobile, barking bravely. Dad cut the tree near its base and tied it to the back of the caboose. He brushed needles and snow off his jacket.

      At the last minute, Robin decided to walk back to the house. She waited until the roar of the snowmobile had faded before she started trudging along the road, the snow squeaking under her boots. It had snowed again last night, and the gray sky looked heavy with the promise of more to come. It would be dark soon.

      If only the storm had waited.

      Up ahead, a row of Christmas lights twinkled on the barn roof. Christmas Eve! Robin’s favorite night of the year. Her dark mood melted away, and she broke into a run. After all, Aunty Liz would have phoned if they’d had to turn back. They were probably bumping over the cattle guard at the highway right now, and Aunty Liz was saying, Rattle me 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,

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