Free Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer Page B

did and winked.
    June 8
    Lately I've been trying not to know what's going on. At least that's the excuse I've been giving myself for not caring about all the stuff that's happening outside of my little section of Pennsylvania. Who cares about earthquakes in India or Peru or even Alaska?
    Okay, that's not fair. I know who cares. Matt cares and Mom cares and if there were any baseball players involved, Jonny would care, too. Knowing Dad, he cares. Mrs. Nesbitt, too.
    I'm the one not caring. I'm the one pretending the earth isn't shattering all around me because I don't want it to be. I don't want to know there was an earthquake in Missouri. I don't want to know the Midwest can die, also, that what's going on isn't just tides and tsunamis. I don't want to have anything more to be afraid of.
    I didn't start this diary for it to be a record of death.
    June 9
    The next to last day of school, whatever that means.
    One day this week when we had electricity, someone took advantage of it to print a few hundred flyers, telling us if we wanted to bring in blankets and food and clothes for the people in need in New York and New Jersey, we should do so on Friday.
    I liked getting that sheet. I liked the idea of helping someone. I guess we can't get stuff down to the people in Missouri because gas is up to $12 a gallon and there aren't that many gas stations still open.
    I put the sheet in front of Mom, who was sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window. She's been doing that more and more lately. Not that there's much else she can be doing.
    The flyer caught her eye. She read it all the way through, then picked it up and tore it into two pieces, then four, then eight. "We're not giving anything away," she said.
    For a moment I really wondered if she was my mother, and not some pod person who'd taken over her body. Mom is always the first to give stuff away. She's the queen of food drives and blood drives and teddy bears for foster kids. I love that about her, although I know I'll never be half as generous as she is.
    "Mom," I said. "We can spare a blanket or two."
    "How do you know that?" she asked. "How can you possibly know what we're going to need this winter?"
    "This winter?" I said. "Everything'll be back to normal by winter."
    "And what if it isn't?" she said. "What if we can't get any heating oil? What if the only thing that keeps us from freezing to death is a single blanket, only we don't happen to have it because we gave it away in June?"
    "Heating oil?" I said. I felt like a total idiot, only able to parrot her. "There'll be heating oil by winter."
    "I hope you're right," she said. "But in the meantime, we're not giving anything away to anybody who isn't family."
    "If Mrs. Nesbitt felt that way, we wouldn't have shared her eggs," I said.
    "Mrs. Nesbitt is family," Mom said. "The poor unfortunates of New York and New Jersey can get their own damn blankets."
    "Okay," I said. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
    That was the moment when Mom was supposed to snap back to herself, when she was supposed to apologize and say the stress was getting to her. Only she didn't. Instead she went back to staring out the window.
    I tracked Matt down, which wasn't hard, since there's nothing for him to do, either. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. I guess that's what I'll be doing starting next week.
    "Heating oil," I said to him.
    "Oh," he said. "You know about that?"
    I wasn't sure whether to say yes or no, so I just stood there and shrugged.
    "I'm surprised Mom told you," he said. "She must figure if we can't get any, you'll find out by fall, anyway."
    "We can't get any heating oil?" I said. Just call me Ms. Parrot.
    "So she didn't tell you," he said. "How'd you find out?"
    "How are we going to survive without heating oil?" I asked.
    Matt sat up and faced me. "First of all, maybe the oil reserves will be back by fall," he said. "In which case we'll pay whatever it costs and get the oil. Second, people survived for millions of