1
Snowball Effect
I skipped through the freshly-fallen snow, each step leaving boot-lined kisses on the pavement. The first snowfall had turned the mall’s employee parking lot into a winter wonderland of boxy, sparkly igloos. I drew a smiley face on the blank canvas of someone’s rear window. My laughter came out in visible puffs, and I flapped my arms, pointing at the little cloud. “Look at this.”
“I see it,” my coworker grumbled.
His real name was Charlie, but I always thought of him as his character, Chestnut. His sour mood got more palpable the closer we got to final exams. Last week, he’d glared at someone for crinkling a candy cane wrapper. He yawned and tugged his oversized pullover over his head until all that poked out was his pointy nose. “Ugh, it’s not even plowed. Let’s go.”
I flounced down the aisle to my usual parking spot, jingling all the way.
Chestnut stopped, his nose pointing down. “Wait, are you still wearing the elf shoes?”
I stiffened and tried to stuff my feet behind a snowbank. Green slippers curved to a point, the bells poking over the snow. “Um, I guess so.”
He reeled back. “You can’t wear the uniform outside of the mall.”
I shook the powder off my feet, heat rising to my cheeks. “Sorry, I was in a rush.”
“Tell that to Santa.” He shimmied between the passenger side and the parked vehicle next to us. “They might ding you ‘nice’ points for that. Then, you can say goodbye to that bonus check. Once, I got ice salt on the side of my pants, and I had to get them dry cleaned or pay a penalty for them to do it.”
“That sounds expensive.” I wrinkled my nose and wiped the windshield with my arm.
“What are you doing? Where’s your brush?” he asked.
“Iamthe brush.” I swiped another triumphant streak across the car.
“Seriously, is it in the back seat?” He wiped off the windows on his side and peered at the rear bench of my dark green sedan. “What’s under that blanket?”
“Nothing.” I flung myself across the car, snow raining down the sides.
He snort-laughed and pushed his face closer to the glass. “Wait, is that a penguin plushie?”
“His name is Mr. Waddles.” I bristled. I kept him in my car so my mom wouldn't donate him to my younger cousins.
Chestnut arched a brow. “Aren’t you a little old for stuffed animals?”
“No.” So what if I was twenty years old with an Associate’s degree? Cute stuff made me happy.
“It’s kind of weird,” he said. “Though I guess it’s no more embarrassing than a grown-up dressed as an elf for a living.”
“Hey.” I scooped up a snowball, icy cold biting my fingers as I packed it tighter than the ball in my chest, and tossed it at Chestnut. The packed snow burst against his coat sleeve.
He jerked back. “What was that for?”
“An attitude adjustment,” I said, dusting off my mittens. “I happen to think our job is amazing.”
“Throwing a snowball won’t change anything.” He huffed.
“Maybe not. But I do have to get the car clean. Would you like to help me?” I grinned, packing another ball.
“Don’t you dare… I’m going to get you back!” Steam puffed out Chestnut’s nose as he scrambled for ammunition.
“Finally warming up to the snow?” Sticking my tongue between my teeth, I ducked behind the car as Chestnut rushed towards me with a grin. An avalanche descended on the driver’s side, soaking through my peppermint-striped leggings. Oh, that was cold. I giggled and shook my hands to get the blood flowing.
One scoop after another, Chestnut and I pelted each other with snow. Each puff of white inspired a little more laughter and energy. This was what first snows were supposed to encourage: breathless, giddy mischief and merriment.
I ran around the side of the car and slipped–there was no traction on these shoes. The fall knocked the breath out of me. My tailbone throbbed from colliding with the icy pavement. I groaned, rubbing out the ache.
