Read Online The American Girl by Monika Fagerholm - Free Book Online
Authors: Monika Fagerholm
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snow tightened around her.
“Help!” Once she had started screaming she could not stop, simply could not. And that was suddenly the most terrible thing of all.
Then Lorelei Lindberg was there, next to her. Frightened and agitated she popped up in the storm, she had lost her leather cap, heavy clumps of snow hung in her flaxen hair and her eye makeup had run down her cheeks in long green streaks. Lorelei Lindberg had an ability to forget everything when she was playing, to really lose herself in the game.
“Little child.” Lorelei Lindberg’s face wrinkled with concern and sympathy. “What happened?”
But little Sandra could not answer. Could not get a word out, still could not move. How would she explain? How in the world would she get anyone else to understand? It was not possible. So she just lay there, face turned toward the sky, which could no longer be seen, like a stuck pig and screamed.
“My God! Stop it now!”
If there was something that irritated Lorelei Lindberg it was her daughter’s crying spells, the quite-often-occurring ones. She had truly avoided becoming familiar with them, being able to tell the difference between the one kind of crying versus the other kind, and one thing was certain, she could not be bothered to listen to them for very long.
And now her patience ran out once again. With a determined and energetic anger she took a hold of her daughter and tore her up out of the snow. These were no gentle grips: she was forced to use all her strength since Sandra herself was so heavy and without a will of her own, completely numb in all of her limbs, like a rag doll. And as usual, which she had a habitof doing when her mother treated her a bit roughly, Sandra disconnected herself mentally, was present but at the same time was not. But this time she did not do it to keep away, or because she in some way should have felt sorry for herself. Just the opposite. She had gotten out of the snow. To be brutally plucked from the snow might have been the only way. The spell was gone. She was content and quite relieved.
But suddenly Lorelei Lindberg stopped in the middle of her angry outburst. She let go of her daughter—yes, she had regained her ability to move, she could stand on her own—and she stared at the tracks left behind on the ground.
“But what a beautiful angel! Have you made that all by yourself?” The pride in Lorelei Lindberg’s voice could not be mistaken, it was as if her anger had vanished into thin air, and her enthusiasm was just as real and honest as her intense frustration had just been. Lorelei Lindberg looked from her daughter to the angel in the snow, from the angel to her daughter and back, and she sparkled with excitement. As if it were something unheard-of. And then she turned around and called out into the snowstorm, which had already had time to transform the beautiful landscape into a foggy and gray soup where you could barely see where you were going.
“Humptey! Come and see what Sandra has made! All by herself!”
And shortly thereafter he appeared out of the whirling snow, out of the whining of the wind that obliterated all other sounds. He was the gorilla in high spirits, slightly bent forward, forehead wrinkled in creases, and hands dangling listlessly in front of him, almost dragging the ground when he walked forward quickly. And with his sights set on Lorelei.
“Here comes the snow gorilla to get you!” the Islander roared. “Ugh! This is an attack! The ape is back!”
“Stoppp! Tjuuuh!” Lorelei Lindberg shrieked but it was too late. Before anyone knew what was happening the Islander had thrown himself at her and both of them had lost their balance and fallen over on the ground where they rolled back and forth, back and forth, wrestling, snickering, over the angel in the snow which, of course, was destroyed beneath them.
Sandra barely had her moment of triumph, then it was over. The angel had only just been made (and to what effect? that was
“Help!” Once she had started screaming she could not stop, simply could not. And that was suddenly the most terrible thing of all.
Then Lorelei Lindberg was there, next to her. Frightened and agitated she popped up in the storm, she had lost her leather cap, heavy clumps of snow hung in her flaxen hair and her eye makeup had run down her cheeks in long green streaks. Lorelei Lindberg had an ability to forget everything when she was playing, to really lose herself in the game.
“Little child.” Lorelei Lindberg’s face wrinkled with concern and sympathy. “What happened?”
But little Sandra could not answer. Could not get a word out, still could not move. How would she explain? How in the world would she get anyone else to understand? It was not possible. So she just lay there, face turned toward the sky, which could no longer be seen, like a stuck pig and screamed.
“My God! Stop it now!”
If there was something that irritated Lorelei Lindberg it was her daughter’s crying spells, the quite-often-occurring ones. She had truly avoided becoming familiar with them, being able to tell the difference between the one kind of crying versus the other kind, and one thing was certain, she could not be bothered to listen to them for very long.
And now her patience ran out once again. With a determined and energetic anger she took a hold of her daughter and tore her up out of the snow. These were no gentle grips: she was forced to use all her strength since Sandra herself was so heavy and without a will of her own, completely numb in all of her limbs, like a rag doll. And as usual, which she had a habitof doing when her mother treated her a bit roughly, Sandra disconnected herself mentally, was present but at the same time was not. But this time she did not do it to keep away, or because she in some way should have felt sorry for herself. Just the opposite. She had gotten out of the snow. To be brutally plucked from the snow might have been the only way. The spell was gone. She was content and quite relieved.
But suddenly Lorelei Lindberg stopped in the middle of her angry outburst. She let go of her daughter—yes, she had regained her ability to move, she could stand on her own—and she stared at the tracks left behind on the ground.
“But what a beautiful angel! Have you made that all by yourself?” The pride in Lorelei Lindberg’s voice could not be mistaken, it was as if her anger had vanished into thin air, and her enthusiasm was just as real and honest as her intense frustration had just been. Lorelei Lindberg looked from her daughter to the angel in the snow, from the angel to her daughter and back, and she sparkled with excitement. As if it were something unheard-of. And then she turned around and called out into the snowstorm, which had already had time to transform the beautiful landscape into a foggy and gray soup where you could barely see where you were going.
“Humptey! Come and see what Sandra has made! All by herself!”
And shortly thereafter he appeared out of the whirling snow, out of the whining of the wind that obliterated all other sounds. He was the gorilla in high spirits, slightly bent forward, forehead wrinkled in creases, and hands dangling listlessly in front of him, almost dragging the ground when he walked forward quickly. And with his sights set on Lorelei.
“Here comes the snow gorilla to get you!” the Islander roared. “Ugh! This is an attack! The ape is back!”
“Stoppp! Tjuuuh!” Lorelei Lindberg shrieked but it was too late. Before anyone knew what was happening the Islander had thrown himself at her and both of them had lost their balance and fallen over on the ground where they rolled back and forth, back and forth, wrestling, snickering, over the angel in the snow which, of course, was destroyed beneath them.
Sandra barely had her moment of triumph, then it was over. The angel had only just been made (and to what effect? that was
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