ON HIS TELEVISION at home, Steve watched Andrew trudging toward the crevasse and wished that he were at work. But he reminded himself that he couldn’t have talked to Andrew anyway. Because the scene was tense and had “high viewer appeal,” Hot Sauce was broadcasting live.
Steve was proud of Andrew. Although he was frustrated that he wasn’t able to talk to him, what would he say except “good job”? Andrew had made the right decision on his own, without any help from Steve.
The screen went dark. Not another advertisement! Earlier, when Robert’s motor had refused to start, the Secretary had abruptly interrupted the show with a commercial about cloning a new Fido. While the commercial droned on, Steve bet the kids had been bad-mouthing her for programming the motor to fail. In those three minutes before programming resumed, Steve had chewed off all his fingernails.
Johnny Sparks, the announcer, sat in front of a map of Antarctica. “Today’s votes are in! The viewers have spoken out on who is our most valuable player. We’ll have those scores for you in a moment, and as an extra bonus, we’ve been granted a special interview with Billy Kanalski’s parents.”
“Oh, no,” Steve groaned. This interruption was horrible. What was happening to the kids? Occasionally, if a scene was particularly scary—“high drama,” the Secretary called it—she previewed the scene before broadcasting it. Right now he guessed the Secretary was watching Andrew head into the icy crevasse rather than showing it live to the audience.
A chart flashed onto the screen.
“Yesterday afternoon, when we polled our viewers,” Johnny Sparks’s voice-over began, “this was the breakdown of votes for MVP—
“But today our audience’s mood has shifted, and we have a new favorite for MVP—
| Andrew | 31% |
“The other contestants’ numbers are—
| Robert | 24% |
| Grace | 23% |
| Polly | 21% |
| Billy | 1% |
“As always, we have kicked the undecideds out of the polls for their un-American refusal to have an opinion. Now we go to our reporter in Andover, New Hampshire, to get the reaction of Billy’s parents to the recent poll.”
Steve wanted to throw his only chair at the screen. What was happening to Andrew? Who cared about Billy’s position in the silly MVP game?
A reporter named Cathy Kress sat in the Kanalskis’ modest hut. Billy’s father was a small man with glasses. His mother was a large woman with silver hair partially covered by a green felt hat.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kanalski, thank you for letting us join you this morning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Kanalski said.
Steve noticed that he spoke firmly but didn’t meet the reporter’s gaze.
“Just to give our viewers some background, Mr. Kanalski, you are a computer geek, correct?”
Mr. Kanalski grinned.
“And we are looking at one of your products?”
The camera panned the Compu-gametable.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Kanalski said proudly.
Cathy Kress stopped smiling. “If you have a big computer company, why would you allow your son to participate in this dangerous contest?” she asked.
Mr. Kanalski didn’t immediately answer. Mrs. Kanalski’s bottom lip trembled. She broke in. “My husband’s company went bankrupt last year. Billy has no money for high school or college.”
“So he needs the contest money?”
Mrs. Kanalski nodded.
“Then what happened? Why didn’t your son rescue Robert?”
“Don’t count Billy out yet,” Mr. Kanalski said. “He’s a survivor, a chip off the old block.” The man chuckled. “And so far, he’s the only contestant to have his own website. All of you interested viewers can click on BillyKanalskiAntarctic.com and see his EduTV grades, his photo, and a description of the Compu-gametable.”
Cathy smirked. “I’m not sure you answered my question, Mr. Kanalski.”
“I hate to admit it, but it’s not a good day for Billy’s percentage points,” Mr. Kanalski said. “He’s gone down quite a bit.”
Mrs. Kanalski started sobbing.
Steve disagreed with Cathy Kress. Billy Kanalski’s dad had answered the question, all right. It was clear that the Kanalskis hadn’t bothered teaching Billy about right and wrong. All Billy knew were games. Rescuing Robert had looked too risky, and Billy had decided not to play.
But surviving in Antarctica wasn’t a game.
In disgust, Steve clicked the TV off. He wasn’t due at work for hours. Reluctantly he turned the set back on.
Andrew was sure there was a better way to travel than holding on to the rope and sliding his feet down the icy wall of the crevasse, but he didn’t know what it was.
The ice passed quickly in front of him, and he marveled that close-up it looked light blue, not white. The crevasse narrowed quickly. Robert’s blue cap and shoulders filled Andrew’s view of the V-shaped bottom.
Andrew was glad to see that Robert had managed to get the rope under his arms.
Robert smiled weakly at him.
“I’m there!” Andrew called up to the surface as his feet touched the ice ledge. He braced himself in case the makeshift ledge collapsed under his weight, but it held. Standing over Robert, who was wedged tightly against the wall by the ledge, Andrew had hardly any room to maneuver. He felt as though he and Robert were shut in a small white closet. Then Andrew glanced to one side, and his eyes traveled to the bottom of the deep crevasse. He promised himself that he wouldn’t look down again.
“Thanks, man,” Andrew thought he heard Robert say, but the words were muffled by a groan.
“We’ll have you out of here in a minute.” Andrew pulled the ice pick out of his backpack.
“I lost the rifle,” Robert said.
“Don’t worry,” Andrew replied.
“See if you can chip near my left arm,” Robert suggested.
Andrew tried leaning over, but his head knocked against the side of the crevasse. He squatted on the ledge. He was almost sitting on Robert’s head. “Sorry about this,” he said. He could smell Robert’s sweat, and something else that he had never smelled before: He could smell Robert’s fear. He raised the ice pick and chipped at the ice near Robert’s arm.
“How’d you get wedged in this?” Andrew asked.
“I busted through, and part of the snow bridge must have caught me.”
“Lucky.” Little chips of ice flew from Andrew’s pick.
“Yeah.” Robert watched Andrew’s slow progress.
Andrew knew he could chip at this stuff all day. What he needed to do was dislodge the ledge entirely, but that would leave them both dangling by ropes over the icy crevasse.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Robert said slowly. “Go ahead.”
“I’m going to let them know.” Andrew straightened up and called, “Keep our lines tight. I have to …” He didn’t have time now to explain the problem. “Do something!” he concluded. “Do you understand?”
Polly’s “Yes!” bounced off both sides of the crevasse.
Andrew was glad that Polly and Grace were overseeing the ropes. He trusted them. He was a little nervous about the dogs, but he wouldn’t think about them now. “I’m going to jump up and down,” he said to Robert. “Keep our ropes tight!” he yelled up to Polly.
“Okay!” Polly called down to him.
Andrew looked into Robert’s eyes.
Robert nodded.
Andrew stood on the ledge and jumped up and down. Being a little heavy was good for something after all. He felt the ice plank tilt. He jumped on the weak side with both feet. As the ice cracked, he tasted his own sweat.
“You okay?” Andrew asked.
“You’re getting it,” Robert said.
The hope in Robert’s voice helped Andrew muster all his strength and jump hard on the crack. One foot broke through and dangled into nothingness. He pulled his foot back up and jumped again. A piece of ice clattered down. He waited for an instant but didn’t hear it hit bottom. He had knocked a hole in the ledge and could now see the void directly below him. Still, Robert remained pinned.
Andrew jumped again. This time he could feel the whole platform tip sideways.
Robert’s rope tightened.
Andrew stared for a second into Robert’s dark eyes. He sensed that he needed to be brave for both of them.
“Keep Robert’s line tight!” he called.
Andrew jumped once more and the ledge popped loose. Immediately the rope cut into his underarms.
“Aah!” Robert grunted in pain.
Andrew twirled around in the air. Only their ropes supported them now.
With ice still clinging to Robert’s body, the rope pulled Robert upward, but Andrew’s body blocked him.
“Pull me up first!” Andrew yelled. He let the rope drag him up a few feet before he looked down. Robert was still below him, but he could now clearly see the bottom of the crevasse. It seemed to go on and on in icy splendor until at its greatest depth it became a bottomless blue.
Robert lay on the ground. Polly, Grace, and Andrew were bending over him.
Robert’s left shoulder looked collapsed and weird. They had no painkillers. No slings. No doctors. And they were only fourteen years old. Polly didn’t allow herself to lapse into bitterness; her mother said it did no good. But she hoped the viewing public was enjoying this. She hoped someone was enjoying this. At least Robert was safe.
Grace touched Robert’s shoulder softly.
Robert flinched.
“It may be dislocated,” Grace said.
Robert gritted his teeth.
He’s a brave guy, Polly thought.
“Before I try to fix it, you’re going to have to take off some of those clothes,” Grace said.
“Can you walk to the tent?” Polly asked.
Robert groaned as he slowly stood. He leaned against Andrew.
Polly walked alongside them.
“I lost the rifle,” Robert said.
“You’re alive,” Polly said, “and that’s what counts.”
“Where’s Billy?” Robert asked.
“In the tent,” Polly said as Robert limped toward it. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell Robert that Billy had refused to help him.