I wanted to get up, to do something productive, but of course there was nothing to do except watch, and there was nothing to watch except Sara's simple game of spinning the dreidel. I tried to focus on the clock as well, in case Ax lost it again.

But all of a sudden Cassie's mom was prodding me. "C'mon Rachel, time for, uh, dinner."

Blearily, I looked at the time. Still safe. I waved Ax to the bathroom and entered the dining room.

Had it only been two nights ago we were eating pizza? Surrounded by peace, love, and goodwill…okay, for the most part? Picking at the…stuff…on my plate, I chewed mechanically.

"This stinks," Jordan sulked.

"Oh yeah?" Marco held a bite up to his nose. "Smells all right to me…whoops, here I go!" His fork lay empty, and he opened his mouth. "Nope, not here!"

His dad closed his eyes, as if praying for patience, and did not reopen them for a few minutes. It was my mom who spoke: "That's revolting."

Jordan cut to the chase. "So, d'we get any party hats?"

Jake's dad raised his eyebrows; he'd forgotten that part of the deal. "You could roll some up out of newspapers."

"Cool!" Sara leapt up from the table. "Where are the newspapers?"

"Out…in…the…garage. Uh, never mind."

"We could make it from napkins instead." Jordan attempted to roll up hers.

"Why can't I go outside?" Sara asked innocently.

"Cause you'll freeze to death!" Jordan scowled humorously.

Sara looked up at Tom, determined. "You're right. We should go out. Let's save the world."

"Not now. Maybe later?" Marco suggested.

"But we need to do it now," she protested. "I can't even make a paper hat!"

"There's plenty of paper around," Jake's mom contributed.

"But it's too small."

"How do you know?" My mom was always ready to find a logical loophole.

"Because." Some logic is implacable. "Can we go?" Sara approached Tom. "Canwecanwe?"

Tom didn't even make eye contact. "Uh, why don't you finish your dinner first?" Now this was new. It seemed like he was actually trying to stay in the house. Or way more advanced than us, which I'm guessing is the answer.

"Actually," Ax spoke through a mouthful of mush, "you suck-kuh it."

"You got schooled!" Marco made a gesture involving swooping his hand downward that I think was supposed to make him look like a gangster. Unfortunately, this caused him to knock his plate over.

Jake's dad sighed wearily and waved my aunt back into her seat. "No, I'll get it…please don't waste the food, Marco."

He tapped his silverware against his plate moodily. (Then again, most of the stuff that had been happening for the previous few hours had been done moodily, so that wasn't saying much.)

Tom strode up and walked into the kitchen, where he fiddled with the radio. "Hey, I think we're getting a broadcast." Just static. "But if someone can get to the station-"

"Tom, you're not going out." His mom's voice was flat.

"Oh, I'm not?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It won't be safe."

"Safe? Going out two nights after it snows isn't safe but starving to death is?"

"We're doing fine."

"So Dad freaks out when Marco drops food?"

"Tom…"

He stared her down. "What?"

"I'd like you to be more respectful."

"I'll do that." Exaggerating his steps, he returned to the table and sat down.

To an empty plate. Assuming Tom had left for good, Ax had stolen his food.