Whatever After #6: Cold as Ice Read online

  Prince doesn’t answer.

  “Prince, if you come back upstairs, I’ll give you a treat! Do you want some peanut butter? Mmmmm. Peanut butter. I’m eating peanut butter right now! It’s delicious. I will eat all of it by myself if you don’t come back up the stairs!”

  Come on, Prince, come on. I do not want to stand here all night. It’s cold! But at least I’m wearing two pairs of fuzzy socks, a fleece sweatshirt, and a hat.

  I am making fake food-slurping sounds when I see it.

  A purple light radiating up the stairs.

  Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

  I hear a whimper.

  “Prince, no!” Without thinking, I run down the stairs.

  Prince paws the glass. The reflection in the mirror starts to swirl like a tornado.

  “Step back, Prince, step back!” I yell.

  What do I do? Do I try and grab him? What if the mirror pulls me inside? I promised my parents I wouldn’t go into the basement! And I can’t go without Jonah!

  My heart is racing. Do I go? Do I not go? Do I go? Do I not go?

  The mirror turns into a vacuum cleaner, and with a loud slurp sound, Prince is sucked inside.

  AHHHH!

  I hold the banister tight so I don’t get pulled along. After a few seconds, the mirror stops swirling.

  “Abby?” I hear.

  I turn around to see Jonah standing at the top of the stairs.

  “What’s happening?” he asks. “Where’s Prince?”

  I catch my breath, and then I say, “Prince escaped from your room and got into the basement and went through the mirror!” I try to keep my voice down so I won’t wake my parents. But it’s tough. This is a crisis.

  Jonah’s eyebrows shoot up. “Alone?”

  “Of course alone. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Jonah runs down the stairs. “ABBY! YOU LET MY DOG GO THROUGH THE MIRROR ALONE?”

  “First of all, he’s our dog,” I huff. “And second of all, this isn’t my fault. You didn’t close your bedroom door properly. And you probably left the basement door open, too!”

  “I did not,” he says. “I wasn’t even in the basement today. You were the one making up dance routines with Frankie down here.”

  Oops. He’s not wrong. But I’m sure I closed it. I must have.

  Jonah twists his bottom lip. “Do you think Prince will come back on his own?”

  I stomp my foot. “No, of course I don’t! How can he? He’s just a dog!”

  Jonah cocks his head to the side. “But he’s a smart dog.”

  “But still a dog, Jonah. A dog. What do we do?”

  He points to the mirror. “We go after him.”

  I feel frantic. “But we promised Mom and Dad we wouldn’t!”

  “But we don’t have a choice.” Jonah looks at his new Spider-Man watch. “We have to go now. It’s midnight.”

  He’s right. “Wait! Should we get shoes?”

  “No shoes! No time! Let’s go!” Jonah knocks once. The mirror makes a hissing sound. He knocks again and a purple haze falls over the room. He knocks one more time. Fast. The mirror swirls like a washing machine. I feel my curly brown hair twisting and twirling, and see Jonah’s hair flapping like a flag in the wind.

  “Maybe this time, it will be Jack and the Beanstalk,” Jonah says hopefully. Jonah is always hoping it’s Jack and the Beanstalk.

  “That would be fun,” I say. Then I add, “As long as the giant doesn’t step on Prince.”

  Jonah pales.

  “I’m only —”

  Before I can say joking, the mirror sucks us both inside.

  Going through the mirror never hurts. It feels like you’re walking through an open door.

  This time, I land on something soft. And cold. It still doesn’t hurt. It’s just … cold.

  Really cold.

  Freezing, in fact.

  I open my eyes and all I see is white. What is happening? Am I in a cloud? Are we in the story of Aladdin? Am I on a magic carpet?

  I try to push myself up, but my hands sink lower.

  I think I’m in snow.

  I spit out what tastes like ice. Yes! It’s snow. I roll over so I am finally looking up. There is blue sky everywhere. And I am definitely in a pile of snow. Snow! Beautiful, crisp white snow! How I’ve missed you!

  Wait. What fairy tale takes place in the snow? Let’s see. Well, The Little Match Girl takes place in the winter….

  WAIT.

  Oh! My! Goodness!

  Snow! So much snow!

  We’re in Frozen! We’re in my favorite movie!

  I’ve watched it about eight hundred times. I know all the songs by heart!

  “I guess we’re not in Jack and the Beanstalk,” Jonah says, shaking white flakes out of his hair.

  “Nope,” I say with a laugh. “We’re in —”

  “Frozen!” I shout just as Jonah calls out, “The Snow Queen!”

  “Huh?” Jonah asks. “Didn’t you tell me Frozen was based on a fairy tale called The Snow Queen?”

  My cheeks heat up despite the cold. He’s right. Of course he’s right. The movie Frozen is based on the story of The Snow Queen, which was written by Hans Christian Andersen. I can’t believe I thought we were in the movie. Of course we’re in The Snow Queen. Maryrose always takes us into the original stories.

  “Yes! I knew that,” I sputter. “I was just, um, testing you. We’re in The Snow Queen. Obviously.”

  “Good,” Jonah says. “I only know the Frozen version, but at least you know the original. So we know what’s going to happen.”

  My nana is an English professor at a university in Chicago. Before we moved to Smithville, she used to read us the original fairy tales all the time. I paid a lot more attention than Jonah did. Also, ever since we started going through the mirror, I’ve been rereading a lot of the tales on my own. I’ve read The Snow Queen. A few times. Not as many times as some of the others.

  It’s broken up into seven stories, or chapters. It’s really long.

  And parts of it are kind of confusing.

  “It’s pretty here, huh?” Jonah asks.

  “It definitely is,” I agree. We’re standing in the center of a flat, snowy field. It reminds me of a resort we went to last winter with our parents. They wanted us to try skiing.

  Jonah loved it. I did not. I spent most of the time tripping over my skis as Jonah sailed down the mountain.

  Anyway, the setting here looks a lot like that. Except without the chairlifts. Or skiers. Or people at all. It’s just snow-covered mountains, pine trees, and blue sky as far as the eye can see. No houses or cabins in sight. I take a deep breath. The air is crisp, fresh, and cold, but the sun feels warm against my face.

  Jonah examines his bare and now slightly red-with-cold hands. “Do you think our fingers will fall off?”

  I bend my thumb back and forth. I wish I’d slept in mittens.

  “Maybe,” I say. Then I wiggle my toes inside my socks. Good thing I’m wearing two pairs. At least the snow is soft and powdery and not soaking into my feet. Not yet.

  “I wish we’d put on shoes,” I say. “Or better yet, boots.”

  “I’m wearing slippers,” Jonah points out.

  “Lucky,” I say, looking down. His slippers are warm and fake-fur-lined. He got them for Hanukkah. I wish I had a pair.

  Like me, Jonah also has on a fleece sweatshirt over his cozy charcoal-gray pj’s. His sweatshirt has a hood. I reach up to adjust my striped knit hat. Suddenly, I’m glad our house in Smithville has heating problems.

  Wait a sec …

  Is it possible that Maryrose caused the recent heating problems? So that Jonah and I would sleep in really warm clothes and be better prepared to visit this story? Hmmm.

  Jonah reaches out his ungloved hand and pulls me to my feet.

  “We can’t stay long,” I warn, standing up and brushing ice chips off my flannel pajama bottoms. “Let’s just get Prince and find our way back to the basement before Mom and
Dad wake up. We have no idea what time it is at home.”

  “It’s twelve-oh-one at home,” Jonah says, holding up his wrist. “I’m wearing my Spider-Man watch.”

  “Oh! Right! Good. We’ll wait and see how the time passes here.” Sometimes a day in a fairy tale is an hour at home. Sometimes an hour in a fairy tale is an hour at home. The watches we wear from home keep track of the time back there.

  Whenever we go through the mirror, we’re always desperate to get back before seven A.M., when our parents come into our rooms to wake us up.

  “It’s pretty bright here now,” Jonah says, blinking. “Maybe it’s the middle of the day? Around noon?”

  “Feels like that,” I say. “We want to be out of here before it gets dark.” Without the sun, we’d definitely turn into icicles.

  “Look at all the snow!” Jonah cries out, scooping both arms full of it. “I miss snow!”

  “Me too,” I admit.

  “It’s like Naperville but even better! Let’s build a snow fort!” he exclaims, crouching down.

  “Jonah, I just told you we’re in a rush. We have to find Prince, and we have to find the portal home.” The portal home can be anything. A chimney. A window. A mirror. And we never know what it is until we knock on it. “No snow forts. At least, not until we find Prince and the portal home.”

  “What about a snowman?”

  “Jonah, we are not making a snowman!”

  “Hey! It’s like I’m Anna and you’re Elsa,” he teases. “You’re refusing to build a snowman with me!”

  I smile. “You know we’re not going to meet Elsa or Anna, right?”

  His face falls. “What? How come?”

  “They weren’t in the original story.”

  He pouts. “What about Olaf? Kristoff?”

  “No and no.”

  “Is there even a snow queen?” he asks with a sigh.

  “Of course there’s a snow queen,” I say, struggling to remember everything. “That’s the name of the story. But she’s much, much different from what you’d expect. She’s evil and scary.”

  His eyes light up. “Really?” Jonah loves the evil and scary parts of stories.

  I nod.

  “Can you tell me the original story?” Jonah asks.

  I rub my hands together to warm them. “Let’s look for Prince while I tell you.” Suddenly, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Jonah, what if Prince isn’t in this story?”

  “Huh?”

  “We didn’t go through the mirror at the same time he did. He could be in a totally different fairy tale from ours. Like Beauty and the Beast! Or The Princess and the Pea!” I swallow hard. Prince could be taking a snooze on a hundred mattresses while we’re trekking through mountains of snow to find him.

  “No, he’s here,” Jonah says, his voice confident.

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because those are his paw prints.”

  Jonah points up ahead in the snow. I see the small paw print — a circle with four smaller circles on top of it. It looks like the outline of a flower. There’s not just one paw print, either. There’s a whole line of them leading through the field and toward one of the mountains.

  Yay!

  “Prince is here!” I say, relieved. At least we are not on a fairy tale wild-goose chase. “Let’s go,” I add, tugging Jonah’s arm. Then I stop when I realize another potential problem. “How do we know for sure that those are Prince’s paw prints and not, say, a wolf’s, or something?”

  Jonah’s eyes light up again. “Like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood? You think he’s here, too?”

  That’s another one of Jonah’s favorite stories. Jonah only likes — and remembers — the ones where people get eaten or lose toes.

  “No, Jonah, I don’t think the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood is here. Have you noticed the piles of snow?”

  “Yeah, but couldn’t there be another fairy tale that takes place in the winter? It’s not always summer in Little Red Riding Hood’s forest, is it? It must snow there sometimes, too.”

  Oh. Right. “Good point,” I sigh. Jonah’s making a lot of good points. “So we might not even be in The Snow Queen?” I groan.

  “Maybe not.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I motion for my brother to follow me. My foot sinks into the snow with every step. My socks are starting to get slightly wet. Great.

  I hear Jonah’s slippers crunch the snow beside me. “In case we are in The Snow Queen,” he says, “why don’t you just tell me the story like you were going to?”

  “Fine,” I say. “But it’s really long. And kind of strange. I’ll try and give you the short version. There are two kids, Kai and Gerda. They’re neighbors and best friends, and Gerda’s grandma takes care of them. But then one day, Kai disappears. Everyone says he died, but Gerda doesn’t believe it. She thinks that the Snow Queen came and put Kai under her spell. And she’s right! The Snow Queen numbed Kai all the way to his heart with her freezing powers! Gerda decides she’s going to find him. So she goes on a search. She meets all these weird people along the way. At one point, a band of robbers grabs her!”

  “A band?” Jonah interrupts. “Like a singing group?”

  “No. A band, like a bunch of people.”

  “Then why is it called a band?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “It just is.”

  “Are you sure they don’t sing?”

  “Yes,” I say, trudging over a mound of snow. “I’m sure. They’re not that kind of band.”

  At the word band, Jonah poses like he’s playing a guitar.

  “I said they’re not that kind of band.”

  “I know. But it’s a fun pose.”

  I slip on a patch of ice and fall on my behind. Ouch. I push myself back up and straighten my hat. “Can I go on with the story now?”

  Jonah makes one more strum on his imaginary guitar. “Yes. Go on.”

  As I talk, we continue following the paw prints through the snowy field.

  “In the band of robbers, there’s a little robber girl. And this girl lets Gerda escape. And she lends her a reindeer.”

  “Sven!”

  “Not Sven. Just a reindeer.” I step around another circle of ice.

  “Still. I have always wanted to see a reindeer.” Jonah tries to run up a steep snowbank as we talk.

  “Careful, Jonah,” I say. “Well, we might see a reindeer, depending on where we are in the story. If we’re even in The Snow Queen. Anyway. The little robber girl helps Gerda escape. Gerda finally makes her way over to the Snow Queen’s ice castle. She sees Kai. He is definitely under the Snow Queen’s spell. She hugs him and cries, and her tears and then his tears melt the spell and unfreeze him. He snaps out of his trance and follows her home.”

  Jonah bends down to scoop up some snow and lets it fall from his hand. “What happens to the Snow Queen?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. She’s not there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. She’s away at the end of the story. Traveling or something.”

  “Convenient,” Jonah says.

  “Seriously,” I agree. We’ve reached the foot of a mountain. The paw prints go up and behind one of the trees. We follow them. I hope he didn’t climb too high.

  “Well, the story wasn’t that complicated. Or long.”

  “There’s a bunch of other stuff that doesn’t make sense,” I explain. “Like, there’s a troll.”

  “A troll? A nice troll?”

  “No. He breaks a mirror, and the broken pieces fly into people’s eyes and hearts and harden and freeze them.”

  Jonah furrows his eyebrows. “I thought the Snow Queen froze people’s hearts.”

  “Yeah. That’s the confusing part. I don’t know. Just stay away from broken mirrors, ’kay?”

  He nods. “ ’Kay.”

  I feel something wet and cold land on my nose.

  I look up. Snowflakes. A million of them, coming
down hard. It’s snowing.

  “Pretty!” Jonah says. “It’s like we’re in a snow globe!”

  They are kind of pretty. They look like confetti. “We should keep going,” I say. Except, when I look down, I realize the problem with the pretty snowflakes. “Oh, no! The paw prints are being buried in the snow! I can’t tell which way Prince went!”

  “Shhh!”

  “Don’t shush me, Jonah, this is a real problem!” Now that we’re walking up the mountain and between the trees, I can’t feel the sunlight, and my cheeks are starting to freeze.

  “Did you hear that?” Jonah whispers.

  “Hear what?”

  Then I hear it.

  Ruff!

  “Prince!” I holler as a bunch of snowflakes fall on my eyelashes. “Is that you? Prince, where are you?”

  Ruff, ruff, ruff!

  Prince! It’s him!

  Ruff, ruff!

  I roll my eyes as I realize where the barks are coming from.

  The top of the mountain.

  Thanks, Prince. Thanks a lot.

  Let’s go, let’s go!” Jonah urges as we try to hike up the snowy hill. The mountain is packed with evergreen trees. It feels like a maze. A snowy maze on a mountain. At least it stopped snowing.

  “This would be a lot easier in a chairlift,” I pant.

  “You can do it!” he says. Jonah takes wall-climbing lessons on the weekends. I do not. You might think that climbing lessons wouldn’t make a difference in this situation, since we are climbing a snowy mountain and not a wall, but it does.

  I am not so good at it. Plus, my legs are half-numb.

  “Step with your heel,” he says.

  “I am trying to, Jonah. But I’m wearing socks! And anyway, what does that even mean to step with my heel? What else would I be stepping with?”

  “You should have worn boots,” he says. “Or slippers.”

  I narrow my eyes. Then I bend down, pack a snowball in my very cold and slightly stiff fingers, and throw it at the back of his head.

  Bull’s-eye!

  “Hey!” Jonah cries.

  I can’t help giggling. “Sorry! It was an accident! My limbs aren’t working correctly in this cold.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jonah laughs. He brushes the snow off his shoulders and then runs ahead until I can’t see him.

  “Don’t you dare, Jonah!” I yell.