Read Online The Sky Is Falling by Caroline Adderson - Free Book Online Page B

some tomatoey stuff off the earpiece. “Belinda?” she said.
    Upstairs, a door slammed. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. O-hi-o .
    â€œHe’s mad,” Sonia said in the phone. “He went upstairs. Were you really cut off? Jane and I are making the banner. Maybe she will. Anyway, I’m going to ask her to the movie. Are you going? Nobody’s going? So? I’ve seen it before too. I’ve seen it four times. All right. I’ll ask Jane.”
    â€œThat was Belinda,” Sonia said, on the way back to the hall. “She asked if you were coming to the demonstration.”
    I said no, I had to study. “Is there something the matter with the phone?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s probably tapped,” she said.
    Which was why, apparently, it provoked such awe. I didn’t believe it, though I didn’t say so. I just nodded and tried not to show how silly I thought that was. Meanwhile, Sonia settled cross-legged to watch me sketch out the Cyrillic letters.
    â€œThat’s amazing.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat you can write Russian.”
    I shrugged, though I was pleased. I stored the compliment the way my aunt socked everything away in bread bags—the shoes in her closet, her bits of costume jewellery, little pastel shards of soap. My aunt would pick an expired bus transfer off the ground and put it in her pocket, as though it were legal tender. I’d saved the things Pete had said to me, too—that I was funny and intelligent—and a comment Kopanyev once scrawled on the bottom of my paper: Jane, you are a very sensitive reader .
    After a minute, Sonia asked, “Why are people afraid of the Russians?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œI think it’s because they haven’t met any. If they knew a few, they wouldn’t be so afraid.”
    â€œThat makes sense,” I said.
    â€œPersonally, I’m more afraid of the Americans. They have more bombs. Do you know a lot of Russians?”
    â€œNot that many,” I admitted.
    When I was nearly done, she went to her room, walking on the edge of the banner, one tiny foot placed in front of the other, close to the wall. She returned with brushes and a plastic yogurt container half-filled with paint, which she set in the middle of the banner. We each started at an end and worked our way toward the centre, filling in the letters.
    â€œThere’s a movie playing at the SUB. If You Love This Planet with Dr. Helen Caldicott. Have you seen it?”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œDo you want to go? You don’t have to study on Friday night, do you?”
    She extended the invitation to Hector and Dieter too. I thought for sure Dieter would come, but he only pushed up his glasses and sneered. “It’s a fundraiser for SPND, isn’t it? I wouldn’t give them a cent. They’re useless.”
    â€œWhat’s SPND?” I asked Sonia as we were putting on our coats.
    â€œStudents for Peace and Nuclear Disarmament. I used to be in SPND when I lived in residence. Dieter and Pete were in it too, but we broke away. All they ever do is have bake sales and march in the Walk for Peace.”
    Hector was in the living room watching a sitcom. “ Adios , Hector,” Sonia called. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
    Hector pointed to the TV. “I’m watching this.”
    Once we were out the door I asked, “Is Hector living with us now?”
    â€œOh dear,” said Sonia. “I think we’d better have a meeting about Hector.”
    The night was clear and cold, the only clouds formed by our breath. I could even see stars, puncture holes in the night, rare for November. Sonia had put on a funny knitted toque with earflaps and a couple of sweaters, both of which looked like they came from my aunt’s stash. Over them she wore an anorak and scarf, yet she still seemed too thin. Her clogs resounded on the wooden steps as we went down