The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball by Elizabeth Atkinson Page A

It’s pure white, which is the color everyone has to wear to look wintry, and it has these puffy princess sleeves, fake fur all along the hem, plus tiny clear buttons down the front, which, according to the catalog, ‘twinkle like stars at night under the lights!’ And I want it more than anything . But it’s really expensive, and if I spend my money now on ski lessons, I may not have enough left over for the dress.”
    Eleanor sighed.
    â€œIf I only had my sewing machine . . . I could probably make one exactly like it.”
    All of a sudden, Charlie and Henry ran over, hollering like they were being chased by a flock of wild turkeys.
    â€œHEY! That kid was here!”
    â€œWhat?” I jumped up and scanned the playground. “Where is he?”
    â€œHe ran away when we talked to him,” said Charlie as puffs of cold air circled his red cheeks.
    â€œThat same boy you saw last month?” asked Eleanor.
    â€œWe see him all the time,” said Henry.
    â€œYou do?” I crossed my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œBecause this time he got really close.”
    â€œAnd when we asked his name,” Charlie said, “he ran off!”
    â€œAll right, calm down,” I said. “It’s not a national emergency, but it is a little creepy. Was he wearing the big green jacket?”
    â€œYep, and a hat squishing his hair down,” added Henry.
    â€œIt’s definitely that rich kid from the mansion. Were binoculars hanging from his neck?”
    The boys looked at each other and shrugged, then ran off to chase a squirrel behind a tree.
    â€œThe weird thing is,” I said to Eleanor, “I haven’t seen him outside in his yard for weeks. I wonder what he’s up to, and why he keeps sneaking around like this.”
    â€œHe may be extremely introverted,” said Eleanor as she continued to sketch, “or suffer from a social anxiety disorder, or any number of phobias.”
    â€œAre you kidding? How can anyone suffer from anything living in a million-dollar mansion?”
    â€œMoney doesn’t buy happiness, Ruby,” she replied, without looking up. “In fact, money has very little to do with happiness other than covering the basic necessities for a reasonably comfortable existence.”
    Honestly, I don’t know where she gets these ideas.
    â€œWhat are you talking about, Eleanor? Have you seen those Outers? Beautiful, rich, and happier than anyone on earth!”
    A cloud passed over the sun, which was low in the sky.
    â€œWho truly knows what an individual feels, or what makes him or her uniquely happy, other than that individual?”
    Eleanor stopped drawing and turned her picture around for me to see: a pretty girl in a beautiful white gown.
    â€œThat’s it!” I said. “The dress in the catalog. How did you do that?”
    She smiled one of her extra-curly grins and closed the pad of paper.
    â€œIt’s getting late, Ruby. You need to call on customers, and I need to crochet phone covers in case we get some orders.”
    â€œShoot, I forgot about my appointments.”
    I jumped up and called the boys.
    â€œCharlie, Henry, get back here—we gotta go!”
    â€œWait,” said Eleanor. “Don’t forget the new phone-cover sample.”
    Maybe Eleanor and I didn’t always think about the world in the same way, but we sure made a great team.
    â€œI’m telling you, these things are gonna sell like ice melt before a storm. Make as many as you can!”

17
    A couple of weeks later, my stepmom arrived home early from the Slope Side Café. It was a Saturday, and she was in an extra good mood because they had sold out of the day’s cookie supply by noon, and decided to give her the rest of the day off. Mim’s secret recipe was getting more famous every day. Meanwhile, Pop was still on the road and, as far as I could tell, he had no plans to come home soon. I