Free Freeze Tag by Caroline B. Cooney

with it? Why was Lannie out there in the snow at one in the morning?
    “Something happened in school,” said Tuesday. How odd her voice sounded. Like somebody else’s. She tried to catch her voice and bring it home. “This girl. In the cafeteria. At first everybody thought it was an unexplained paralysis. A girl named Jodie. But then somebody said it was Jennifer, and she had fallen down and broken her spine. And then somebody else was sure it was Jacqueline and she had a fever and some virus attacked her brain and turned her stiff as a board.”
    “Get to the point,” said Brown.
    “It was some girl, okay? And Lannie froze her. The way she did that time when we were little and Freeze Tag was real.”
    “It was never real,” said Brown.
    “Then why are you pulling the covers back up? It’s because you remember that night, Brown.”
    “Do not.”
    “Do so.” Tuesday looked back out onto the snow. The wind caught and threw it, as if the wind were having a snowball fight with its friends. The backyard tilted downhill, and vanished into the dark. A cliff to the unknown.
    Tuesday stared at her little brother. He stared back.
    “Okay,” said Brown. “Let’s go look. But it’s going to be tough living with West if it turns out we’re just interrupting the good parts.”
    The door of the truck cab was open.
    Lannie was swinging on it, pushing herself back and forth with one small foot. She was smiling as she looked inside.
    She knew Tuesday and Brown had joined her but she did not look at them. She was too pleased by the inside of the Chevy.
    Brown took Tuesday’s hand. She was glad to grip it. They did not let themselves touch Lannie. They peered into the truck.
    Two statues. As cold and white as marble.
    Carved in a half embrace; lips not quite touching; eyes not quite closed.
    Lannie chuckled. “Hello, Tuesday,” said Lannie. “Hello, Brown.”
    The snow ceased to fall. The wind ceased to blow. The world was smooth and pure and white. It lay soft and glittering and glowing on all sides.
    “Are they dead?” whispered Brown.
    “Just frozen.” The chuckle was full of rage.
    I have to reason with her, thought Tuesday. I remember that night in the grass. The last time we ever played Freeze Tag. West reasoned with her. He told her he was impressed. “I’m impressed, Lannie,” said Tuesday. “They look very real.”
    Lannie favored Tuesday with a look of disgust. “They are real. They are your brother and your neighbor.” She made “neighbor” sound like “road-kill.”
    “They’ll die if they’re left out here,” said Tuesday.
    “If they wanted to stay inside, they should have,” said Lannie. “He promised to like me best.” Her voice was slight, and yet filling, like a very sweet dessert. “He broke his promise.”
    Tuesday wet her lips. Mistake. The winter wind penetrated every wrinkle, chapping them. “Let’s give West a second chance,” said Tuesday. She had to look away from her frozen brother. “He’ll keep his promise now.” She wondered if West could hear her, deep inside his ice. Could he hear, would he listen, would he obey? It was his life.
    “They didn’t believe I could do it.”
    Tuesday suffocated in the sweetness of Lannie’s tiny voice. “I believed you,” said Tuesday quickly. She smiled, trying to look like an ally, a friend, a person whose brother was worth rescuing.
    Brown was not willing to cater to Lannie. “You’re a pain, Lannie,” he said angrily. “You don’t have any right to scare people.”
    “But people,” said Lannie, smiling, “are right to be scared.” Her hair was thin and did not lie down flat, but stuck out of her head in dry pale clumps.
    “Undo them right this minute,” said Brown. “Or I’ll go and get my mother and father.”
    Lannie laughed out loud. “It won’t be the first time in history two dumb teenagers froze to death while necking in a stupid place at a stupid time.”
    “Or call 911,” said Brown. “They’ll save