Free By the Silver Water of Lake Champlain by Joe Hill Page A

at what her older sister was drawing. Then Gail got her kaleidoscope and peered at the drawing through that. It didn’t look any better.
    She lowered her kaleidoscope and said, “Do you want me to help you with your drawing? I can show you how to draw a cat’s nose.”
    â€œIt isn’t a cat.”
    â€œOh. What is it?”
    â€œIt’s a pony.”
    â€œWhy is it pink?”
    â€œI like them pink. There should be some that are pink. That’s a better color than most of the regular horse colors.”
    â€œI’ve never seen a horse with ears like that. It would be better if you drew whiskers on it and let it be a cat.”
    Heather crushed her drawing in one hand and stood up so quickly she knocked over her chair.
    In the exact same moment, Mindy wheelbarrowed Miriam into the edge of the coffee table with a great bang. Miriam shrieked and grabbed her head and Mindy dropped her ankles and Miriam hit the floor so hard the whole house shook.
    â€œGODDAM IT WILL YOU STOP THROWING THE GODDAM CHAIRS AROUND?” screamed their mother, reeling in from the kitchen. “WHY DO YOU ALL HAVE TO THROW THE GODDAM CHAIRS? WHAT DO I HAVE TO SAY TO MAKE YOU STOP?”
    â€œHeather did it,” Gail said.
    â€œI did not!” Heather said. “It was Gail!” She did not view this as a lie. It seemed to her that somehow Gail had done it, just by standing there and being ignorant.
    Miriam sobbed, clutching her head. Mindy picked up the book about Peter Rabbit and stood there staring into it, idly turning the pages, the young scholar bent to her studies.
    Their mother grabbed Heather by the shoulders, squeezing them until her knuckles went white.
    â€œI want you to go outside. All of you. Take your sisters and go away. Go far away. Go down to the lake. Don’t come back until you hear me calling.”
    They spilled into the yard, Heather and Gail and Mindy and Miriam. Miriam wasn’t crying anymore. She had stopped crying the moment their mother went back into the kitchen.
    Big sister Heather told Miriam and Mindy to sit in the sandbox and play.
    â€œWhat should I do?” Gail asked.
    â€œYou could go drown yourself in the lake.”
    â€œThat sounds fun,” Gail said, and skipped away down the hill.
    Miriam stood in the sandbox with a little tin shovel and watched her go. Mindy was already burying her own legs in the sand.
    It was early and cool. The mist was over the water and the lake was like battered steel. Gail stood on her father’s dock, next to her father’s boat, watching the way the pale vapor churned and changed in the dimness. Like being inside a kaleidoscope filled with foggy gray beach glass. She still had her kaleidoscope, patted it in the pocket of her dress. On a sunny day, Gail could see the green slopes on the other side of the water, and she could look up the stony beach, to the north, all the way to Canada, but now she could not see ten feet in front of her.
    She followed the narrow ribbon of beach toward the Quarrels’ summer place. There was only a yard of rocks and sand between the water and the embankment, less in some places.
    Something caught the light, and Gail bent to find a piece of dark green glass that had been rubbed soft by the lake. It was either green glass or an emerald. She discovered a dented silver spoon, not two feet away.
    Gail turned her head and stared out again at the silvered surface of the lake.
    She had an idea a ship had gone down, someone’s schooner, not far offshore, and she was discovering the treasure washed in by the tide. A spoon and an emerald couldn’t be a coincidence.
    She lowered her head and walked along, slower now, on the lookout for more salvage. Soon enough she found a tin cowboy with a tin lasso. She felt a shiver of pleasure, but also sorrow. There had been a child on the boat.
    â€œHe’s probably dead now,” she said to herself, and looked sadly out at the water once