My fingers are already going numb, and I haven't even touched the snow yet. They don't give us enough clothes for this. I mean, they gave us a thermal shirt, long johns, gloves, and a thick jacket. Still, it's nowhere near enough to be outside, and the fuckers force us to do our breaks out here, same as summer. Institutional torture is a thing.
But I can't complain much. If they decided to lock us up inside because of the cold, I'd lose my mind. So, I bend down, scoop a handful, and the cold bites into my palms.
"You're on!" I say, ignoring how much I’m shivering.
Behind us, Miles hovers near the building's entrance like a shadow. He doesn't join, but he doesn't leave either. Which is something. He’s been acting ever weirder after he came back from Christmas break. Not good weird. He didn’t say anything about what happened there, as usual, so we could only guess that maybe seeing his family wasn’t good.
Ethan stands a few feet from the door, arms folded. Even in the blistering cold, his khaki pants are immaculate, pressed, and that's so fucking funny. Golden boy. The disapproval on his face is textbook, the kind of frown they probably teach in Student Leader school. He doesn't have any reason to scowl like that, but I don't think he knows how to have fun without making a face first.
Too bad I'm extremely attracted to that mean face.
Jack's snowman takes shape fast, shoulders broader than its base. He gives it stick arms and a grin made of crushed gravel. Mine is smaller. I find pebbles near the courtyard wall, arrange them into a crooked mouth, two dark stones for eyes. The face ends up looking vaguely like it's judging you, which feels appropriate, given where we are. I wrap a handful of dead grass around its neck to make a scarf and step back, extremely proud of my little guy.
"Daddy, look!" I call out to Ethan. We’re really past caring if people see me calling him Daddy or not.
That gets him. A smile breaks through. His green eyes sweep over my lopsided snowman, then back to me.
"Looks amazing, baby."
I duck my head, pretending to fuss with the snowman's gravel mouth so he won't see the flush crawling up my neck. It's stupid, how much three words from him can undo me. I’m already nineteen, I shouldn’t be blushing like a little boy every time he smiles at me, but here I am.
Then, a snowball catches Ethan in the center of his chest. Time stops. Jack freezes mid-throw, arm still extended, looking like a man who's just realized he shouldnothave done that. Snow clings to Ethan's jacket, dripping slowly. His jaw tightens. Those green eyes narrow.
"Fuck," Jack whispers.
Ethan bends down, packs a snowball, and hurls it directly into Jack's face.
I duck behind my snowman, scooping ammunition, throwing a ball at Jack's shoulder. It explodes there, the war starts, and snowballs fly in every direction. I laugh like a madman.
Jack throws himself backward into the snow with a whump. "Snow angels!" he screams, arms already sweeping. I drop beside him. It's freezing and my clothes are soaked through, but I don't fucking care. Above me, the sky is a flat pale sheet, and I move my arms and legs without paying attention to them. I wonder how I can be so fucking happy in a place like this, but the answer is clear, and it’s around me, doing snow angels and watching me with a soft face, and even looking at us from near the door. Then, I'm only watching the sky, feeling the cold. Everything else disappears. It’s just me and the infinite.
But I have to get up eventually because it is so… fucking… cold! I sit up too fast and the world tilts. Jack grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet before I topple sideways.
"Graceful," he says.
"Shut up."
A staff member called Mark appears with a tray of steaming styrofoam cups. I could hardly fucking believe my eyes. Hot chocolate! Kids crowd around him, and I think there won't be enough, but two more staff members appear with more trays. There are even cookies. We fall into line and get our cups.
"Marshmallows!" I almost scream. The small, freeze-dried kind that dissolve on contact, but still. Marshmallows.
We huddle on the bench near the courtyard tree, and I hold the cup between my palms. Steam curls up, smelling like cheap cocoa powder, the best kind. My dad used to bring extra packets home from work. He had it in his break room and always pocketed some for me. Good dad. It tastes like water and sugar and it's perfect.
Jack presses against my left side, radiating warmth. On my right, Ethan sits close enough that our shoulders touch, and I stay very still so nobody moves. Miles sits across from us, both hands wrapped around his cup.
Then Jack leans in, his breath warm against my ear, and whispers three words that make me immediately more stupid than usual.
"Snow cones. Come."
I grin. Jack's smile widens as well. I can't let Ethan notice, or he'll say no because he’s a killjoy. So we get up, pretending to be very interested in making more snowmen. Ethan seems distracted. Some kids nearby started throwing snowballs like us, but now one shoves the other, and things can get bad quickly. If they land us all on lockdown, I'll be pissed. But for now, it serves as a good distraction.
Jack and I hurry around the tree, pretending to build snowmen, but really we're filling our cups with snow. When we run out of space, Jack starts shoving fistfuls into his jacket pockets, into every available pocket, and it's the stupidest idea I've ever seen, but I do the same. The snow immediately starts melting against my body in cold, seeping patches. The cold is shocking against my skin, but I don't care. Fucking best idea ever.
We slip through the cafeteria door. I peek at Ethan. He really is distracted, the boys are fighting for real now and the guardsare already heading over, so we hurry inside. Usually we'd stay in the courtyard until snack time is over, but today they graciously let us use the cafeteria because of the cold. A couple of kids sit inside eating their snacks. We move fast. The snow is shifting in my pockets, getting wetter.
"Go, go, go," Jack hisses, pulling trays from the stack near the serving line.
We dump our snow in heaps onto the beige plastic, sad little mountains already turning translucent at the edges, the warmth of the building working against us. Jack vaults over the serving counter and disappears into the kitchen, something that would get him a month of detention if anybody saw it. I should stop him. I volunteer in that kitchen. Lu will murder me if she finds out I let this happen.
