Snowblind Read Online Free Page A
Author: Michael Abbadon
thank me, Krissy."
"Right, Mom. So original."
Linda sighed. She yanked on the door handle and climbed gruffly out of the car. Kris heard her walk to the trunk. She's probably forgotten something, Kris thought. She's always forgetting something. She didn't used to be like that...
"Kris, where's your bag?" She was rifling through the messy trunk.
"I put it out, Mom. Did you take it?"
"I thought I told you—. Oh. Here it is."
Linda slammed the trunk shut, walked around and opened Kris's door.
"Give me your hand."
For a long moment, Kris didn't budge. Then she suddenly remembered something, the reason she'd finally agreed to come here at all. She reached for her white cane, took her mother's hand, and climbed carefully out of the car.
"Mom?" she asked as her mother shut the door. "Do you see a Beetle in the lot?"
Her mother looked at her, puzzled. "A beetle?"
"Yeah, you know, the car, the old Volkswagen Bug."
"Oh, uh..." She scanned the parking lot. Next to the schoolyard, where the children were jamming a stick nose into the snowman's eyeless head, she spotted a rusty, mustard VW Bug.
"Yes, over there, there's a yellow one in the corner."
Kris's heart skipped a beat.
"Why?" her mother asked. "Whose is it?"
"Oh... nobody," said Kris. Her mother eyed her inquisitively as they headed into the school.
8.
"I wish you'd sit down and relax." Andrea Parks had been watching Linda pace the floor since she'd come into her office.
"I'm fine," said Linda.
"You don't look fine. You look worried."
Linda stopped walking and turned to her friend. Andrea, as always, looked cool, casually elegant, and efficient. She wore a short white blazer, a fitted skirt, and a pale blue silk scarf beneath her short blonde hair. Sitting, legs crossed, on the edge of her desk, she looked like a woman in complete control of her life.
Linda had felt that way, once. She wanted to feel that way again.
"What?" asked Andrea. "What is it?"
Linda shook her head. After a moment she started to speak, but was interrupted by the ring of the telephone.
Andrea reached across her desk. "Director Parks. Oh, hi George." She raised her finger and nodded to Linda, indicating the call would be short.
Linda turned to the window that overlooked the training room. A fifty-foot-long simulated ski slope dominated the enormous room. Slick white carpet covered the slope, with a handrail along one edge and safety nets mounted under each side. Two blind children, not more than ten years old, were clinging to the railing halfway down the slope, their skis splayed out awkwardly beneath them.
At the bottom, loudly coaxing them on, stood a compact, muscular African-American woman with extremely short-cropped hair, wearing Spandex and bright red high-top basketball shoes. Linda had seen the woman before at the school.Andrea had said she was a veteran of Iraq. She was surrounded now by half a dozen children of various ages, all in skis, flopping about like penguins while waiting their turn on the hill. Linda could not find Kris among them, and wondered if she was still in the waiting room.
The Blind Learning Center was the only one of its kind in the entire state of Alaska. The school was widely renowned for the range of its programs and the quality of its well-trained staff. Many of the students' families had moved to Fairbanks from other parts of the state so their children could regularly attend.
Linda and her daughter lived in the town of Healy, at the northeast corner of Denali National Park. Fairbanks was only 70 miles away, an easy drive up Highway 3 along the frozen banks of the Nenana River. Linda had made the drive a thousand times. She was a part-time social worker carrying a case load at a community mental health clinic in the city. A year after Kris lost her sight in the accident, she'd begun taking her along on the commute, leaving her for cross-country lessons at the school while she went to work at her job in town. It had been good for Kris, she'd
"Right, Mom. So original."
Linda sighed. She yanked on the door handle and climbed gruffly out of the car. Kris heard her walk to the trunk. She's probably forgotten something, Kris thought. She's always forgetting something. She didn't used to be like that...
"Kris, where's your bag?" She was rifling through the messy trunk.
"I put it out, Mom. Did you take it?"
"I thought I told you—. Oh. Here it is."
Linda slammed the trunk shut, walked around and opened Kris's door.
"Give me your hand."
For a long moment, Kris didn't budge. Then she suddenly remembered something, the reason she'd finally agreed to come here at all. She reached for her white cane, took her mother's hand, and climbed carefully out of the car.
"Mom?" she asked as her mother shut the door. "Do you see a Beetle in the lot?"
Her mother looked at her, puzzled. "A beetle?"
"Yeah, you know, the car, the old Volkswagen Bug."
"Oh, uh..." She scanned the parking lot. Next to the schoolyard, where the children were jamming a stick nose into the snowman's eyeless head, she spotted a rusty, mustard VW Bug.
"Yes, over there, there's a yellow one in the corner."
Kris's heart skipped a beat.
"Why?" her mother asked. "Whose is it?"
"Oh... nobody," said Kris. Her mother eyed her inquisitively as they headed into the school.
8.
"I wish you'd sit down and relax." Andrea Parks had been watching Linda pace the floor since she'd come into her office.
"I'm fine," said Linda.
"You don't look fine. You look worried."
Linda stopped walking and turned to her friend. Andrea, as always, looked cool, casually elegant, and efficient. She wore a short white blazer, a fitted skirt, and a pale blue silk scarf beneath her short blonde hair. Sitting, legs crossed, on the edge of her desk, she looked like a woman in complete control of her life.
Linda had felt that way, once. She wanted to feel that way again.
"What?" asked Andrea. "What is it?"
Linda shook her head. After a moment she started to speak, but was interrupted by the ring of the telephone.
Andrea reached across her desk. "Director Parks. Oh, hi George." She raised her finger and nodded to Linda, indicating the call would be short.
Linda turned to the window that overlooked the training room. A fifty-foot-long simulated ski slope dominated the enormous room. Slick white carpet covered the slope, with a handrail along one edge and safety nets mounted under each side. Two blind children, not more than ten years old, were clinging to the railing halfway down the slope, their skis splayed out awkwardly beneath them.
At the bottom, loudly coaxing them on, stood a compact, muscular African-American woman with extremely short-cropped hair, wearing Spandex and bright red high-top basketball shoes. Linda had seen the woman before at the school.Andrea had said she was a veteran of Iraq. She was surrounded now by half a dozen children of various ages, all in skis, flopping about like penguins while waiting their turn on the hill. Linda could not find Kris among them, and wondered if she was still in the waiting room.
The Blind Learning Center was the only one of its kind in the entire state of Alaska. The school was widely renowned for the range of its programs and the quality of its well-trained staff. Many of the students' families had moved to Fairbanks from other parts of the state so their children could regularly attend.
Linda and her daughter lived in the town of Healy, at the northeast corner of Denali National Park. Fairbanks was only 70 miles away, an easy drive up Highway 3 along the frozen banks of the Nenana River. Linda had made the drive a thousand times. She was a part-time social worker carrying a case load at a community mental health clinic in the city. A year after Kris lost her sight in the accident, she'd begun taking her along on the commute, leaving her for cross-country lessons at the school while she went to work at her job in town. It had been good for Kris, she'd
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