Page 26 of Snowballed

She snorts. “Of course not. By the time spring comes, we’ll have gone through most of this food.”

I look at the cabbages and squash. “How does it not go bad?”

She taps one hand on the wall, and I realize it’s made of dirt. “This cellar was built about a hundred years ago. Before anyone had giant fridges and freezers, so cold storage was the only way they could keep food through the winter. These walls regulate the temperature.”

She pulls a jar off the shelf. “This is the strawberry rhubarb jam you love so much.”

Zoe looks really cute right now. When she’s in her element here at the farm, her face glows with excitement. Even in the half-light here, her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are pink and slightly parted.

I catch myself staring at her mouth and turn my attention to the jam. “I thought canning meant in cans, not jars.”

Zoe shakes her head. “You’ve probably never seen a Mason jar before.”

“Sure, I have. They serve drinks in these in lots of restaurants.”

“Good grief. That’s ridiculous. You’re so trendy,” Zoe says trendy like someone else might say “psychotic.” She’s not someone who would ever insist on going to the latest hot spot for a date.

“When do you find time to do all this?” I wave at the shelves.

“In the summer. I just have a part-time job at the tourist office, so there’s oodles of time. Derek helped too.”

Denise calls us upstairs. She’s made dinner tonight, in honor of Meysy’s return. Dinner is a lot of fun, between his wisecracks and Zoe’s corny jokes.

Afterwards, Denise takes Meysy back home, and I clean up the kitchen with Zoe.

“Hey, I got some good news. I got a bursary,” I tell her. Coach Keller called me into his office on Friday to let me know. The fact that I’m old enough to apply as a student without parental support was key. Instead of the son of Gary Goodwin, I’m just plain Noah Goodwin.

“Oh no,” Zoe says. “Does that mean you’re leaving?” She sounds genuinely upset.

“Didn’t know you cared,” I say.

“Oh for Pete’s sake. It’s not about you. We need you to work on the farm when I’m away.” She wipes the counter with more violence than necessary.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not that much money.” But it is enough that I don’t have to panic if something goes wrong. I had another talk with Coach Keller about whether I should stay on the farm. I reassured him that I could handle it.

I’ve come to enjoy living here. The lifestyle suits me. I’m not eating the specially balanced diet that I’ve been on since I was fourteen, but the farm food is amazing. It’s fresh, local, organic, and delicious. Zoe barely uses any processed foods. It’s like a step back in time, which is exactly what some dieticians recommend. Besides, with all the farm work piled on top of my regular training and hockey, I need extra calories. Despite all the delicious food I’ve been eating, my weight hasn’t changed at all.

“So, you’d be hooped if I leave?” I ask.

Zoe scowls. “I suppose you’re going to use this to blackmail me in some way.”

I yank her chain a little. “Do you do laundry?”

“Are you serious right now? You can’t cook, you can’t milk goats, and you don’t even know how composting works. How did you get through life before you got here?”

“Servants,” I say.

Before the top of Zoe’s head blows off, I tell her I’m joking. Although I’m pretty sure that she would consider our housekeeper and landscapers to be a huge indulgence.

She sighs. “I usually do my laundry on Tuesdays. If you want I could do yours too.”

I lean towards Zoe, close enough to see the cute sprinkle of freckles on her nose. “I told you I was kidding. If you really want to fondle my briefs, you’ll have to find another way.”

Zoe doesn’t even answer this. Instead she stalks out and begins rounding up chickens. The house is boring and empty without her.

9

Noah

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