Cursed! (11 page)

One day he walked with us to school and disappeared. I thought that was a good thing, until the fire alarm went off.

At first we thought it was a drill, but as soon as we stepped into the hallway, we could smell smoke. Mrs. Von Hirschberg was suddenly extra strict, snapping out instructions in a voice that demanded obedience. Even Byron stayed in line and didn't say a word.

Staff stood at all the hallway intersections, directing traffic and hustling us outside as fast as they could without letting us run.

We gathered on the lawn in class groups, far from the building. From there, we could see smoke pouring out of a science-room window. It was thick and black and smelled disgusting.

Soon we could hear sirens. Two fire trucks pulled up in front of the school. One fireman conferred with the principal, and then they headed inside, bright in their yellow suits, big boots clumping.

Mr. Ryan's class was right beside mine. Kara and I worked our way close to each other.

“I heard a science experiment blew up,” Kara said.

“I bet it was the Spirit Man.” I looked around, trying to find him.

“Really?”

I nodded. “I made him promise to leave my family alone and not to hurt anyone, but he gets bored. You know all those storms?”

“Jane!”

“I told him he could play with the weather as long as no one gets hurt and there's no damage. He loves wild weather!”

Kara shook her head. “I can't believe you're giving the Spirit Man orders!”

“I know,” I said. I shivered. “And I can't believe he's following them! Well, sort of.” I looked at the school. “At least no one was hurt.”

“You still think he's with you?”

I spotted him lurking near the fence, far from the kids. “Standing right over there,” I said in a low voice.

Kara gasped and backed away. “Are you serious?”

We played outside while the school aired out and the firemen made sure everything was safe. We didn't have any outdoor clothes, but it was a warm day, so we didn't mind. It started to snow—big soft flakes coating our hair and our shoulders. The Spirit Man watched in approval. We were all disappointed when we had to go back inside.

We finally made it to spring break. According to the newspaper, we'd had the most snow, the strongest winds and the nastiest early spring in twenty years. But I didn't care. Mom was getting better, and we were going to Grandma's.

It wasn't easy getting out the door. First we had to figure out what to do with Bear.

Mom and Dad checked with every relative, friend and neighbor, but no one wanted a huge dog, even just for ten days.

Lewis and I talked about it one afternoon while we walked Bear to the park with Byron, for their run.

“Dad told me we just can't take him to Grandma's,” Lewis said. “She doesn't like dogs enough to manage with such a big one.”

“Bear would hate being stuck in a kennel,” I said. “But he has to go somewhere. We have to get to Grandma's!”

“I could take him,” Byron said.

I stared at him. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I really like him. And my parents like dogs. I'll ask.”

Soon my dad and Byron's dad had it all worked out. Dad was even going to pay Byron for taking care of Bear.

The forecast for the day we were leaving was snow, starting around noon.

“We'll leave early, before it starts, and miss the whole thing,” Dad said, sounding satisfied.

But the Spirit Man had other plans. When we woke up Saturday morning, snow was beginning to coat the ground.

Dad checked the forecast; a storm warning had been posted. “They're forecasting a big snowfall in the foothills, beginning later this morning. But it looks like it's already started.”

“We can't let a little snow stop us,” I said. “We're Bartolomés.”

“Jane, if it's not safe…,” Mom said.

“But if we leave quickly, we can get to Banff before it gets too deep. We can buy breakfast on the road.”

Dad put down the frying pan and put away the juice. “Absolutely,” he said.

So we grabbed essentials and flew out the door.

By Canmore, the world was blanketed in white. The only sound was the van's wheels whooshing through the wet snow on the highway. As we drove, snow seemed to fall straight at us in a mesmerizing pattern. Lewis and I pretended we were in a spaceship, traveling at warp speed.

As the snow fell faster and thicker, Mom and Dad started to talk about turning back. “If it gets any worse, it just won't be safe,” Mom said.

I glanced to the back of the van. The Spirit Man was watching the storm out the back window. “I don't want anyone getting hurt,” I said, frowning at him. Then I asked, “Did the forecast say where the storm would hit?”

“Yes,” Dad said. “It's starting in the foothills east of the Rockies and moving farther east through the day.”

“So we might be almost past it,” I said, hoping I could keep us heading west.

Dad nodded. “There's no place to turn around here, and we don't want to drive back into it, so we might as well keep going until we find a safe place to stop.”

By Banff, the sun was shining, so we kept driving. We stopped for breakfast at a coffee shop in Lake Louise and feasted on fresh baking. As we left, we stocked up with sandwiches and cookies, since we hadn't packed the cooler.

The highway was quiet, so we made good time; Dad figured the storm had kept everyone else off the road. The mountains were beautiful, covered in gleaming white. We could see big overhangs of snow, just waiting to come crashing down as avalanches.

We drove around a curve in the highway, and Dad yelled and slammed on the brakes. I looked up to a wall of snow smashing down the mountainside. We screeched to a halt, just in time to not be swept down to the river far below us.

We all sat back, gasping and shaking. Mom jumped out to signal to any other traffic, while Dad backed the van around the corner, far from the avalanche and in sight of oncoming cars. He made us get out of the van and stand well back from the road, in case someone drove up and couldn't stop in time. Then he and Mom dug under all the luggage, found some safety triangles and set them on the road behind us.

There was no cell-phone service, but soon a truck arrived with a radio, and the driver contacted the Mounties.

We waited to talk to them. Mostly they wanted to know if anyone was ahead of us, caught in the avalanche. Dad told them it had been really quiet and he hadn't seen anyone for a while.

Finally they let us go. We turned around and headed east; the highway would be blocked for days.

“Can we get to Grandma's another way?” I asked.

Dad said, “Well, we could take Highway 97 south and drive west along the southern route. But that's a lot of extra driving.”

“There's no other way?” I asked.

“The Golden Triangle,” Mom muttered as she started rustling through maps in the glove compartment. “I'm sure that will work.”

“Of course,” said Dad. “The avalanche was this side of Golden, so if we drive back to Castle Junction, we could go south to Radium and then head west to Golden from there. The highways form a triangle. Cyclists like to ride it.”

We stopped at the National Parks Visitor Centre in Lake Louise. They checked and told us the route should be fine.

Before we climbed back into the van, I opened the back and pretended to look for something while I muttered to the Spirit Man, “Behave yourself, or I'll leave you in a snow pile at the side of the road!”

The rest of the trip was long, but peaceful.

CHAPTER 14
The Perfect Week

After a night on the road and another day of driving, we caught the last ferry to Vancouver Island. As we were driving off the ferry, Lewis opened his book on military history. “What's this, Jane?” he asked, pointing at the page.

I read it silently and smiled. Without speaking, I sat at attention and saluted. Then I touched my shoulder. I waited to see if Lewis could figure it out.

He read it silently, frowning. He read it twice more and smiled. “The soldier raised his rifle to his shoulder,” Lewis read.

We grinned at each other, and he and Old Moby cheered.

BB groaned when he saw Old Moby. “Why did you bring Old Mopy?” he asked.

I started to snap back that his name was Old Moby, and then I had a better idea. I held up Old Moby and let him speak for himself.

“‘And just what does BB stand for?'” he said, his little hands waving. “‘Bad Bully? Big Bug? Bothersome Brother?'”

“That's enough, Jane,” Mom said in a stern voice.

I grinned to myself and glanced back at BB. He was staring at Old Moby. “Hmmmm. I'm starting to like Old Baldy after all,” he said.

I sat back, rubbing Old Moby's bald head. Maybe that wasn't such a bad name for him.

The drive to Grandma's seemed to take forever. I squirmed and twisted, barely able to contain myself. After all my work to get to Grandma's, we'd almost made it.

I looked back at the Spirit Man; he was staring at me. “We're almost there,” I said, pretending to talk to Old Moby. “You behave!”

The Spirit Man nodded ever so slightly and went back to watching out the window.

Just before we reached Sooke, I spotted a field of early spring flowers. “Oh, stop, stop!” I said.

I jumped out and picked an armful. I wove them into a wreath as we drove.

When we arrived at Grandma's, I greeted her with a huge hug, cried, “I'm so glad to be here,” grabbed my bags and dashed inside. I ran up the stairs past the masks, but stopped halfway up and went back for Lewis. “C'mon Lewis. We'll go up together.”

I dropped my bags in the living room and walked into the bathroom. The Spirit Man—the wooden one—stood in his usual place by the toilet. He just stood there, not moving, not smiling, his hands on his hips. I swallowed, my stomach knotted. But it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. He didn't look quite as tall as I remembered.

I lifted up the wreath of flowers and glanced back to the doorway. The ghost Spirit Man stood watching. When I held out the flowers, he looked horrified, like he was saying, “You've got to be kidding!” So I set them on the counter and turned back to the statue. I took a deep breath, looked straight into his eyes, and bowed. As I stood, I let out my breath in a slow steady stream.