Shivering, in fact. I put on my robe and slippers and manage to get into the bathroom just after someone steamed it up. Then, instead of taking my shower, I head to the kitchen to see if someone can turn up the heat. As I walk into the living room, a weird white and gray light coats everything. I look out the windows. White blankets the yard and clings to the trees. My breath catches. That has to be snow. I’ve never seen snow before. It’s dripping out of the sky, even as I look. Big thick flakes of white, like bread plates. The house is cold and we’re going to get snowed in and even though we have a lot of food, there are eleven of us, and some are boys, and they eat too much, and that doesn’t count the dogs and the cats and— Something bangs in the kitchen. I’m not the only one up. I make myself look away from the windows and head into the dining room. Some Fruit Loops sit in drops of milk on the placemat in front of Hilde’s spot. The dogs haven’t gotten to that yet, but one of the cats—a sleek little black and white named Pixie—is standing on the bench, licking something off the placemat beside Hilde’s.
