Igloo high, p.18
Igloo High, page 18
Ella cut her nails short and got rid of her precious manicure—or rather, the manicure that was making her act precious—and Bobbie showed her once again how to drill a hole in the ice with the hand auger. This time, Ella picked up the tool and proceeded to drill, at first with all her might, but she tired pretty fast and slowed down.
“I don’t think you should drill sideways,” teased Bobbie.
“I’m not that bad!” Ella rolled her eyes.
It took a while, but she managed to drill her first proper hole and got all excited at her success. The girls gave each other a high-five.
“I just dug a hole, and I feel so proud of myself . . . ’cause I dug a hole. Is that normal?” Ella scoffed.
“Well, it’s consistent. You always seemed like an overachiever to me.”
“Yeah, it must be that.”
The two girls often found each other amusing, in a way Ella had never felt with Sandy, who took everything so literally. Bobbie was on the opposite end of the spectrum, a lover of the absurd and the humor that came with it. She, too, enjoyed these silly interactions with Ella. For one thing, they made her forget to obsess over her “failed” future and made her feel less blue.
“Isn’t it a thing of beauty, though?” Ella was goofing around, admiring the hole she made in an exaggerated manner.
“A work of art.” Bobbie took out her cell phone. “How about you bring your face close to your masterpiece and I’ll take a picture of the two of you. Then, you can have it framed.”
“Are you kidding? It’s totally going on the fridge door!”
Bobbie snapped a few shots of Ella and entered the frame herself to be in one of the pictures.
“We should take pictures together more often,” Ella suggested. Bobbie agreed.
“Alright, it’s hot chocolate o’clock!” Ella declared. If it were up to her, whenever she was outside, it would always be the right time for hot chocolate.
“Not so fast!”
Bobbie fished a can of worms from her backpack. A literal can of worms.
“What’s that?” Ella asked apprehensively.
Bobbie opened the canister and showed its squirming contents to Ella.
“Oh, God, gross!”
“So, first, we fish, with these little guys. Then we go for hot chocolate . . . with the remaining little guys and the fish we’re gonna catch.”
“Ugh! Never mind the hot chocolate, then! You’re just trying to gross me out!”
“I’m not trying. It’s working.”
What Bobbie said ended up being true—they would indeed, later on, end up at the Tim Hortons with worms and fish in a backpack. But in the hour preceding the fish-and-donuts excursion, Bobbie patiently taught Ella how to hook worms on a fishing line—preferably without making a face, because that looked way more professional—and they fished for a while. And they did catch a few fish, which made Ella ecstatic.
“What’s wrong with me? First, I freak out over making a silly hole. And now, it’s getting a handle on this whole slimy worm-and-fish thing that’s floating my boat. I must have a fever or something.”
“You’re hooked. And before you know it, you’ll be begging me to show you how to gut these yourself and cook them.”
“Let’s not push it. You can have the fish.”
Ella was not ready to bring any fish home. They would probably go to waste with her dad still coming home late, and the freezer was full. But the sole thought of gaining these weird skills—however impractical for city life—made her smile. Not many kids at her old school could boast about being able to do that. And perhaps she could ask Henry to teach her how to gut and cook fish someday. Wouldn’t that be romantic?
The next skill Bobbie taught Ella was a snow block carving technique to build an igloo. She was pretty good at it and made it look easy, slicing through hardened snow with a pana, a dagger-like snow knife, like she was slicing through butter.
“This reminds me of when we used to build forts when we were younger. Did you guys build snow forts or igloos back then?” Ella asked.
Bobbie scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Forts are soooo colonial! We used to build modern skyscrapers with multiple floors, glass windows, and elevators. Of course.”
“Of course. What was I thinking?”
“Exactly.”
“I stand corrected.”
With its techniques and snow blocks needing to be carved the right way, igloo building turned out more of a craft than anticipated and frustrated Ella to no end. She couldn’t believe how crooked and wrong her blocks kept turning out. Too big, she’d shave them off until they were too small, or they had the wrong angles—or both. An across-the-board disaster. She needed to master the right angles to build towards the dome part of the igloo successfully, which was most of the structure. Her mittens were getting wet, and she felt she’d made zero progress. The wind was getting colder, and she could hear the very distinct call of the wild hot chocolate . . . with whipped cream . . . and sprinkles, dammit!
It also seemed to her that she used to be much better at this as a kid and, therefore, refused to fail. Later on, she practiced on the snowbank in front of her house to get it right or, at the very least, get better at it. Still no luck. She looked so dejected that Frank crossed the street to hang out with her and cheer her up. At least that part worked.
The last thing Bobbie coached Ella on was how to walk with traditional snowshoes. Made from wood and rawhide lacings, these were much wider and harder to walk with than their modern counterpart.
From then on, every weekday morning, Bobbie showed up early to pick Ella up, and they trudged to school in snowshoes. It would take them longer than usual as Ella seemed hell-bent on walking like a penguin, but they kept at it despite the slowness of it all.
As much as Ella thoroughly enjoyed her time training with Bobbie, sarcasm and all, she looked forward even more to being mentored by Henry. At times, Sera would see them together. And while she maintained composure, Ella always noticed a glimmer of jealousy in her eyes. While she no longer cared to goad her nemesis on purpose, deep down, Ella had to admit she still got a kick out of seeing Sera annoyed and envious.
Ella quickly became a pro at driving Henry’s snowmobile, and they went on a few longer rides. He’d hold on to her, and they would glide at great speed across the vast, snow-covered land.
On one such outing, Henry handed Ella a shotgun-like BB gun. They had stopped in the middle of nowhere to admire the landscape, and he thought it was a perfect spot for her to learn how to shoot blanks. It was unlikely she would hit an animal or anyone.
Ella took the gun timidly.
“Now, don’t shoot your eye out,” Henry said, holding back a grin.
At first, Ella seemed concerned.
“Oh, God, do I have to worry about—”
She stopped herself in mid-sentence as she noticed the words “Red Ryder” branded on the wooden stock of the gun. Red Ryder, like the BB gun Ralphie so desperately wanted in A Christmas Story, a quirky comedy she had watched with Sandy years ago. Ella smiled, finally getting Henry’s joke. “That was a weird film.”
“We watch it every year!” Henry seemed thrilled she got the reference.
Ella pictured herself watching the movie with Henry, nestled next to him under a blanket. A fire roaring in the fireplace, of course. Big snowflakes falling outside. He would laugh as hard as the first time he had seen the movie, and his laugh would be contagious, and she, too, would laugh to tears. How wonderful that would be . . .
Henry started rummaging through his backpack, yanking Ella out of her reverie. She inspected the BB gun with a newfound fascination.
“So . . . this is what he wanted, the kid in the movie? Wow. I never thought I’d ever hold one of these in my hands. They let kids have these?”
“Yeah. Well, around here anyway, a lot of kids learn to hunt. Though I wouldn’t recommend hunting with one of these. They’re mostly to learn. But still, they should be handled as carefully as a real gun and treated as such.”
“Right.”
A feeling of apprehension came back in Ella. This gun still felt dangerous, far from a natural thing to her. But then again, neither had fishing before she learned, and now she was getting used to that, too.
Henry sensed the gun was making Ella tense. “Keep in mind that you’ll be shooting targets,” he said, “not hunting down killers and whatnots.”
Ella nodded. That was a good point. “Hear that, whatnots? You get to live!”
“And you’ll be shooting these—BBs.”
Henry showed her a small clear bottle filled with tiny metal balls.
“Let me show you how to load it.”
She happily handed him back the gun and watched him. He explained the process as he poured some BBs into the load door. This looked somewhat manageable, even for her.
Henry brought the gun up in front of his face.
“One trick to aim well is to restrain your breathing.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll fire a wild shot, so you can get used to the noise. Alright? Ready?”
Ella nodded.
“Okay, in three . . . two . . . one . . .”
Henry fired the gun—CRACK! Ella jumped, but much less than anticipated. The noise echoed a bit, but overall, it wasn’t even that loud.
Henry handed Ella the Red Ryder. Without him saying anything, she raised it in front of her face, trying her best to mimic his previous movements.
“Like this?”
“Pretty much.”
He guided her hand a bit, and she was good to go.
“You feel comfortable trying?”
Ella moved her head in several directions, suggesting that she was mostly there. Seeing how confident Henry was in her brought her the rest of the way there. It helped that where they were was so remote, there was no one at risk of getting shot in case she didn’t aim right. In fact, there was nothing to aim at, at all. Which made for much less stress.
Ella took a deep breath, making a face, and braced herself for the noise and the impact. She fired—CRACK!
“You did it!”
“I did it!” Ella repeated, as if she didn’t quite believe it.
Henry was smiling at her, and this gave her wings.
“How about you take a few more shots, and then we’ll see how good your aim is?”
“Alright.”
While Ella fired a few practice shots, Henry lined up a bunch of empty tin cans on a small snowbank behind her.
“Here.” Henry’s voice made Ella pivot. “Try hitting these.”
Ella began shooting at the cans, and her aim turned out to be all over the place. A few lucky hits and a lot of misses.
“There goes my career as a sniper.”
“Unless you’re prepared to offer some serious discounts . . . and have good insurance.”
Ella laughed. Henry was as funny as Bobbie. That must be a family thing, she thought. Ella liked that in him and her friend. That and their shared kindness.
“I love how you always seem to find a silver lining in things,” said Ella.
“Do I?”
“I think so.”
She was looking at him admiringly. He was looking back at her, and there was something in the way he, too, was looking at her. Ella could feel her heart beating a little faster.
The sun was starting to set.
“We should probably wrap up and head back,” he finally said.
“I guess so.”
Ella made a big effort to hide her disappointment and look casual. Now was not the time for her to betray herself and declare her crush.
A Girl Like Her
The winter games event was just around the corner, on the upcoming Saturday. And it was already Wednesday. Tick-tock.
After school, Ella was browsing the cork board while waiting for Bobbie. She came across a sign-up sheet for the prom party at the end of the school year. Her eyes lit up—the thought of a prom party, here, in Iqaluit, had not even crossed her mind. And despite the debacle at the only party she briefly attended here, this was graduation! Something entirely different. At the very least, she would be much better informed this time around.
Staring at the sheet, she felt a strong desire to sign up. She looked to see who was already on board, and there it was, of course, the name of the devil herself. Ugh. Sera had beat her to it, claiming the territory as hers. This was heartbreaking.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. And I’ll have a great time doing it too.”
That was Sera, with impeccable timing, approaching her.
“I don’t remember summoning you. You’re worse than a cockroach,” Ella told her with a smile.
Unfazed by the insult, Sera added, “Just so you know, he could never go for a girl like you. So, nice try, loser.”
“What are you talking about?!”
“He’s only helping you to be nice. To be polite. Nothing more.”
On that fine little dose of venom, Sera flitted away.
A girl like me? What the hell did she mean by that? What could Sera possibly know? She hardly looked like Henry’s confidante. If anything, it was to her that he seemed polite and nothing more.
Ella knew better than to believe the hateful words of someone intent on hurting her, but this still stung. A lot. Why couldn’t Sera just let it go and let her be?
What if there was some truth to what she was saying? What if Henry was indeed only being his usual nice, helpful self? Like she herself has suspected before?
Bobbie finally showed up, and Ella forced a smile. On their way home, she was quiet but tried to chat just enough so Bobbie wouldn’t guess how heavy her heart was. She didn’t want to talk about this. And even if she did, what could she possibly say?
Is it true that your cousin could never care for a girl like me?
For the rest of the day, Ella felt crushed and discouraged. That night, she even picked up her cell phone and brought up Sandy’s number . . . which now showed an avatar of her and Ryan posing cheek to cheek.
Ella turned her phone off. She bundled herself under a blanket on the living room’s comfy chair and stared at the wall right above the TV set. Despite her dad being home with her, watching television next to her, she felt pretty alone.
Way Back When
The next day—Thursday, tick-tock—after school, Ella met with Henry to practice her aim by shooting more cans on a vacant lot on the outskirts of town. The sun had long since set, but the lot was well lit up by nearby street lights.
Henry was being his usual very pleasant self. He didn’t look like the type of person who could dismiss anyone based on . . . based on what, exactly? Sera’s surely unfounded declaration was just cruelty and didn’t make any sense. Deep down, Ella knew this was Sera playing with her emotions to destabilize her, but a pernicious seed of doubt had been planted in her mind, and Ella couldn’t shake off the resulting torturous, damaging thoughts.
So, she spent the whole time with Henry overanalyzing his every move, word, facial expression, and body language. This proved at once tiring and maddening. Not to mention completely distracting. On the outside, she was doing downright terribly at shooting cans—or rather, at not shooting any of them. On the inside, she couldn’t help but feel upset and awkward, and a burden to Henry. The need to act distant to protect herself from further getting hurt was taking precedence.
“Don’t worry about hitting them, eh? I assure you, they won’t feel a thing. And they’re heading for recycling anyway, so they don’t care,” he teased her with a smile.
“Right.” Ella forced herself to smile back.
“You seem a little out of sorts, today.”
“You could say that.”
Yeah, it was better to say that than tell him she had barely slept the night before, too busy agonizing over him and most probably a lie spread by her worst foe. She felt like an idiot. And now, she didn’t know how to act around him nor how to make the awful feelings go away.
“Would you like to take a break?” he offered.
Ella knew she’d keep being a total waste of time at the moment, so they might as well do more than just take a break and, instead, call it quits for the day. Even though this was more than likely her very last chance to practice shooting before the games. The pressure was on for her to get better at it, but this was just too much to ask of herself right now. Ella simply couldn’t deal with this. She’d have to do her best in the biathlon event, and her best would have to do.
“Yeah . . . You know what? I don’t think I’m gonna be able to concentrate today . . . I’m so sorry.”
“Oh. Okay. Why is that?”
Ella scrambled for a reply. She could not go there.
“I’m worried about a friend who’s at the hospital. I should probably go visit her.”
This wasn’t entirely true, but at least it wasn’t a total lie either. She had been thinking about Inuuja, who was back at the hospital due to balance issues.
“I’m really sorry I wasted your time today,” she added.
“You didn’t. I didn’t have anything else to do, and it got me out of the house. That’s all good.”
“I’ll help you pick up the cans.”
“Thanks. And I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.”
Henry’s offer took Ella by surprise. Thank God she didn’t lie.
“Oh, but, no, I—”
“You know I won’t take no for an answer. It’s on the way back anyway.”
It’s on the way back if you make one hell of a detour . . .
Why was he fibbing?
Why was she overanalyzing everything?!
Stop it!
Ella capitulated and accepted the ride. Giving in would help expedite things and make him go away sooner.
Or so she thought.
Henry parked the snowmobile near the entrance of the hospital. Sitting behind him, Ella jumped off the snowmobile as if her life depended on it. She handed him the helmet.
