Dustin's mother overslept again, and they missed the bus. It had snowed last
night, almost four inches, and she told him she didn't like the looks of it.
She said her wrist still hurt, the car needed new tires--they couldn't afford
them right now--and the roads were too slick. They'd probably slide into a
gully on their way to school and freeze to death.
After she called the office, she took another pain pill and went back to bed. Jeremy wanted to go out and play, but Dustin said,
"No."
"Why not?" Jeremy said and crunched down on a spoonful of dry cereal. He
didn't pour milk on it like a normal kid, and whenever they had pancakes,
he'd suck the syrup right out of the squeeze bottle. Watching his younger
brother eat breakfast always made him queasy. Sometimes Dustin couldn't eat.
"Because I don't want to. And you can't go out by yourself."
Dustin hated snow. It looked beautiful: all white and soft like bed sheets
wound around the trees and over the yard, but he knew better. It was cold
and it hid things under it: fallen branches, twisted tree roots, and chipmunk
holes--all of it waiting for a wrong step. Snow covered up stuff. Snow lied.
"Pleeeeease."
"Let's watch TV instead," Dustin said. He shoved his algebra book aside and
picked up the remote lying on the floor. It felt like a Popsicle in his
hand. The kerosene heater didn't work right; the floor stayed cold, so their
mother made them wear socks all the time. Nothing seemed to work the way it
should here, but their mother had said they didn't have much choice, they
needed a place to live, and the trailer was all she could find. And it was
cheap too.