She stared out the car window. Farm house after farm house whizzed by in a blur. The spring thaw had come early this year. Already there were bits of pale green and brown showing between islands of grey snow in the farmyards. There was lots of mud, especially in the pastures where the cows stood around munching last summer’s hay. She curled up under Maman’s arm and read her comic again.
After a while she saw a sign at the side of the road. “You are leaving Quebec,” she read. Then there was another one, “Welcome to Ontario.” She felt a small buzz of excitement.
“But where’s the border?” she asked craning her neck to look at the ground beside the trees at the side of the road. “I don’t see any border.”
“There’s no actual line on the ground between the provinces,” Maman said. “Borders are just lines on the map.”
After they’d driven steadily all day, stopping only for gas and a quick lunch which Maman had packed, they reached the outskirts of Kitchener, where Sophie’s Uncle Thomas, Maman’s brother, lived.
The car bumped into a deep pot hole and jolted everyone awake including Zephram, who howled angrily. Papa stopped the car. Sophie and her older brothers tumbled out to see what was wrong.
“A flat!” said Papa. “Good thing we’re near a garage.”
Sophie saw a garage with a blinking sign just ahead.
Papa and Joseph took the flat tire off and put on the spare. Then Papa drove to the garage to have the flat repaired. When they drove closer, Sophie saw the sign said “Miller’s Garage.”
Papa said, “This will probably take some time, so you may as well come out and have a stretch.”
“I’ll telephone Thomas and see if he can come and pick some of us up,” said Maman. “The sooner I get Zephram in bed, the better.”
“You’d better get your suitcases then. I don’t know how long this will take.” Papa opened the trunk and unloaded everyone’s suitcases.
Sophie got her own suitcase and followed Maman, who was carrying a fussy Zephram into the shop beside the garage. Joseph, Henri, and Arthur grabbed their baseball gloves and a ball and started playing catch.
While Maman used the telephone, Sophie looked around the shop. She had a nickel left from her allowance and it was clinking in her pocket against a flat stone with a white wishing ring around it.
The shop was lined with shelves of chocolate bars, Double Bubblegum, black jawbreakers, and home-made crafts like bird houses and knitted baby sweaters and booties. But, in a corner, she saw a stack of comics!
She thumbed through them. They were all new with crisp, shiny covers. Some Little Lulus, some Archies, even some Supermans, but no Star Girls. Little Lulu was good though. Sophie sat on her suitcase to read. She read through one, then another, and another.
At the bottom of the pile she found the latest Star Girl comic, March, 1949. It cost ten cents so she couldn’t buy it, but she could read it.
After a while, she noticed things had become strangely quiet. She couldn’t hear her brothers shouting to each other outside anymore. She couldn’t hear Maman talking to Mrs. Miller, telling her how the family was enduring a long trip across Canada. All she could hear was a steady hammering from the workshop.
Sophie grabbed her suitcase and raced to the door. She stared outside. The car was gone! Papa’s car was gone!
She dashed out, her suitcase bumping against her leg. The car wasn’t in front of the pumps. It wasn’t anywhere!
“Papa! Papa!” she shouted as she ran down the road, dragging her suitcase. “Maman! Wait for me! Wait for me! Wait! Don’t leave me behind!”
Papa’s brand new Mercury and its little trailer had disappeared down the road into the evening dusk.
Sophie turned back to the garage. She almost started crying, but she shook her head and blinked hard. She’d ask Mrs. Miller if she could use her telephone to call her uncle. But just as she reached the shop, the lights in the window went out!
She hurried to the door. Locked! She knocked, loudly.
“Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Miller!” she called. The lights went on again and there was Mrs. Miller’s friendly face at the door. She looked surprised.
“But you’re still here!” said Mrs. Miller. “Your mother left at least half an hour ago. Your uncle picked her up with your little brother. I thought you went with them too. And your father, he left as soon as his tire was repaired. It didn’t take us very long.”
She shook her head. She had to blink really hard now.
“We’ll just telephone your uncle’s place,” said Mrs. Miller, kindly. “Come in. Come in. I’ll look up his number in the telephone book.”
When they found the number, Sophie called. Her aunt said they thought she was coming with Papa.
“But they’ve already left!” said Sophie, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice.
“Well, your uncle will have to come back and get you then. He’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“My uncle will be here in half an hour,” she told Mrs. Miller. She sighed a big sigh. She felt better already.
Mrs. Miller nodded. “Good. I’ll stay and keep you company until he comes. Now, the comic? Did you want to buy it?”
“Oh!” Sophie realized she was still clutching the Star Girl comic. “Sorry. I don’t have enough money for it.” As she turned to put it back on the pile, she thought of something.
“Could I trade you something for the comic?”
“You’ve something to trade?”
Sophie opened her suitcase. The first thing she saw was the nightcap her grandmother had sent for her birthday.
“What about this?” she asked, offering Mrs. Miller the pink cap with shiny blue ribbons.
“That’s lovely!” said Mrs. Miller. “For such a fancy nightcap I’d give you two comics.”
By the time Sophie’s Uncle Thomas arrived with Arthur, she’d chosen a Little Lulu to go along with her Star Girl. Mrs. Miller gave her two postcards as well, showing the town of Kitchener with a sign beside the road saying, “Welcome to Kitchener. Keep it as clean as your kitchen.”
Sophie thought she’d send one card to Marcie and the other to her cousin, Danielle, in St. John’s.
It was a snug fit to get the comics into her suitcase, but she managed to squeeze them both in.
Her uncle Thomas was a big jolly sort of man with curly black hair. “Ah, there you are, ma chérie. Welcome to Kitchener. Your chariot awaits, Mademoiselle,” he said, sweeping her into his big green car.
ONTARIO QUICK FACTS
Motto: Ut Incepit Fidelis Sic Permanet (Loyal it began, loyal it remains). Ontario means “Beautiful Lake” in the Iroquois language.
Population: 11,506,400 (1999)
Size: 1,068,580 sq. km
Capital: Toronto
Main Industries: Manufacturing, farming, mining, forestry
Flower: White Trillium
Bird: Common Loon
Tree: White Pine
History:
In 1630, Etienne Brulé came to live with the Hurons and soon missionaries set up missions along the Great Lakes and