C.J. Carmichael - A Sister Would Know

Desperate for air, she opened her mouth and took in dry granules of snow, instead. Realizing her mistake, she tried to spit them out, but her face was packed in too tightly. Panic built, then exploded. From low in her chest she let out a scream that no one would hear.

The scream went on and on, until her lungs were burning and the ringing drove all other sound from her ears.

Inside her head, her scream had a name, and her mind conjured a face identical to the one she saw reflected in the mirror every morning. Her last conscious thought was a plea for help.

Amalie! I can’t breathe! Help me, Amalie!

IT WAS JANUARY, and cold to be standing outside in the snow, but eleven-year-old Davin Fremont didn’t mind. He laughed as his aunt Amalie took a wild swing at the piñata strung up in his best friend’s backyard—and missed.

“Come on, guys,” his aunt pleaded, her eyes covered by a tightly knotted scarf. “Give me a clue. Right or left?”

“Left!” one of the kids at the party yelled.

“Right!” shot back Jeremy, the birthday boy.

Amalie stumbled in the snow, unaware that the papier-mâché sheriff hung precisely over her head. A gust of wind set it spinning and Davin yearned for the candies and trading cards he knew were stuffed into the hollow form.

“No clues,” he said, hoping he’d get another turn with the bat. “It isn’t fair.”

“Oh, sure. Fair. I didn’t hear any talk about fairness when you were up here, Davin.”

“Maybe we should give her another spin.” Jeremy’s mother was laughing almost as hard as Davin. When a couple of the boys started to run toward Amalie, she leaped forward to restrain them. “I was only kidding! She’s having a hard enough time as it is.”

“Just wait until it’s your turn, Jen,” Amalie threatened.

“No doubt you’ll have the piñata shattered before then.”

“Jenny, if I had any idea where you were standing, I just might be tempted…” His aunt raised the plastic baseball bat in her hands threateningly.

Davin saw Jeremy smirk and he laughed, too. It was fun the way his aunt and Mrs. Mitchell teased each other. They’d been friends a long time. Gone to university together, and now worked at the same hospital. Davin and Jeremy were going to do the same thing when they grew up.

“Come on, swing the bat!” urged one impatient party guest.

That was when Davin noticed his aunt wasn’t moving. It was like she’d frozen solid. A second later she moaned and collapsed to her knees.

“Aunty?” He glanced at Jeremy’s mom and dad. The concern on their faces made him scared. He ran for his aunt and threw both arms around her, as Jeremy’s dad whisked the scarf off her face.

Aunt Amalie didn’t seem to notice. She was bending over her stomach, her mouth open. “I ca-can’t breathe!”

Davin hugged tighter, more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. Was his aunt dying?

“Honey, give her some space.” He felt Mrs. Mitchell pry his arms away. His aunt was on the ground now, curled into a ball, her hands at her throat.

“Stand back, boys! Should I call 911?” Mr. Mitchell sounded tense.

“I’m not sure. It’s almost like an epileptic fit, but Amalie isn’t—” Crouched in the snow next to his aunt, Jennifer was holding Davin with one hand while she observed her friend. “She is breathing, though she seems to be having trouble drawing in air. Amalie, can you hear me? Is your chest hurting?”

“Yes. No. It’s my leg…” Suddenly, his aunt went still again. “I can’t move!”

What in the world was happening? Davin began to whimper; he was so scared….

He felt the cold bite of the winter wind as Jennifer withdrew her arm from his shoulder. As he watched, she reached for his now-motionless aunt. Gently she picked up her wrist with one hand, brushing snow from her face with the other.

“Amalie, it’s okay.”

His aunt blinked.

Davin rushed forward again, this time just taking her hand, the one Mrs. Mitchell wasn’t holding.

His aunt’s gaze shifted to him. She blinked, then gave a wobbly smile. “I guess I missed the piñata, huh?”

Relief was sweeter than the icing on Jeremy’s birthday cake. “You’re all right?”

“Of course I am, buddy.” But she looked shaky as Mrs. Mitchell helped her sit up from the snow.

“Amalie? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, Jen. It was really weird. But I’m okay. I promise.”

Jeremy glanced at Mr. Mitchell’s face. He seemed relieved. Mrs. Mitchell, too, was smiling. He scrambled to his feet and held out his hands to help his aunt stand. If all the adults thought this was okay, then it must be.

“I’m sorry to break up the party, Jen, but I think we’d better leave.”

Mrs. Mitchell gave her a hug. “Let Aaron drive you home.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Her smile was as bright as ever, and now that she was standing, she was steady and strong.

They were in the car, when Mrs. Mitchell suddenly remembered the treat bags and had Jeremy run to the house to get Davin’s.

“Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Davin said, accepting the bright blue-and-yellow bag through the open passenger window.

“Take care, now!” Everyone waved as his aunt pulled the car out onto the street.

It was cold in the car and quiet. Davin peered at the treat bag in his lap but didn’t feel like checking to see what was inside.

Instead, he checked his aunt. She looked normal, except her skin was kind of white and she was driving slower than usual.

At the next red light, she gave him a smile. “I’m okay. Really, Davin.”

“Then why—”

Her gloved hand reached for his shoulder. “Do you remember my telling you that when Helena is hurt I always know because I get the same feeling?”

Oh-oh. He should have figured this was all connected to Amalie’s twin. Everything bad in his life somehow tied in with her. The mother he wished he didn’t have.

Davin shut his mouth and didn’t ask any more questions.

AMALIE NOTICED Davin’s withdrawal, so common whenever the subject of Helena came up. When the traffic light turned green again, she took her hand from his shoulder and placed it back on the steering wheel.

She felt badly that she’d spoiled the end of the party for him. And just when they were having so much fun. But the urge to rush home was something she couldn’t ignore…maybe she’d find some word from Helena.

She and Davin lived in a rented duplex about six blocks from the Mitchells in Bloor West Village. The Toronto neighborhood was handy to the hospital Amalie worked at—she could take the subway with just one transfer. The neighborhood had once been run-down, but now it was considered trendy. Amalie appreciated the blend of new and old in the shops and cafés that lined both sides of Bloor street.

Since completing her training as a nutritionist, she had dreamed of one day buying the house she now rented. But real estate prices were sky-high for the two-story brick dwellings, with their tiny front porches and high-pitched roofs. It didn’t seem to matter that the buildings were small and packed tight together, many with original plumbing and wiring.

Location, location, location. They were close to the subway, to downtown Toronto, to the lake, to just about everything, it seemed.

Amalie rolled her Jetta behind the Dodge Omni that belonged to the neighbors who lived in the other half of her duplex, then turned to her nephew buckled into the front seat beside her.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Davin.”

He hadn’t uttered a word since she’d made that reference to her sister. Amalie put her hand to Davin’s head and brushed back hair so fair it was practically white. His eyes shone like clear blue topaz, in the dwindling afternoon light. With coloring just like hers, and her sister’s, Davin had been an exceptionally beautiful child.