Authors: Donna Freitas

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying, #Love & Romance

The Survival Kit (19 page)

BOOK: The Survival Kit

5.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

I tried to hide my smile. When I went to shake Tim’s hand, he brought mine to his lips and kissed it. “Nice to meet you,” I said, and laughed.

“Come on,” Will said to him. “Don’t you have other people to harass?”

“Don’t you just love this man?” Tim asked me, a goofy look on his face.

“Quit it,” Will said, and punched him in the shoulder. To me he mouthed “Sorry” and “He’s really drunk.”

Tim was undeterred. “Let me give you some advice about Will,” he went on. “He is very shy and sometimes he just needs a little push.” He pressed a single finger on Will’s upper arm to demonstrate.

“Ah, I think I get it,” I said.

“Will.” He leaned closer, like he was going to tell him a secret. “Girls like it when you ask them to dance,” he whispered, but loud enough so I could hear. “Many other men have done the same with ladies in the next room.” He stood up and yanked Will with him, who looked like he might die on the spot. Tim turned to me. “Rose, you’d love to dance with Will, wouldn’t you?”

If he wasn’t acting so clearly out of affection, I might have felt more embarrassed, but the intent was obvious: to give Will that little push. Something I knew all about myself. Maybe we both needed this. “I would love to,” I said, and stood up. Tim took my hand and passed it to Will. Our fingers automatically wove together, like we’d held hands a million times before. The noise and lights and people around us disappeared and all I knew was the feeling of his palm against mine and the tingling of skin touching skin.

Tim patted our backs, like Will and I were little boats he
wanted to send floating across the water. Still holding hands, we headed into the next room, where one slow song after another had been playing all night. Without looking at me Will said, “You don’t have to do this, you know. They were just playing around. They like to—”

“I want to,” I said, not letting him finish, “dance with you, I mean.”

“Okay,” he said, seeming relieved and beginning to relax. The two of us moved toward the crowd of couples swaying under a ceiling of white twinkle lights. Will stopped. “Middle or edge?” he asked, surveying the floor.

“Middle-to-edge,” I decided, and led him into the crush of people.

“At least here maybe the guys will leave us alone.” Will shrugged his shoulders, his smile sheepish. “Tim meant well.”

“I got that much,” I said, and put my arms around his neck.

Will hesitated a moment, but then I felt his arms slide around my waist. As we swayed, turning slowly, I breathed in the scent of his skin. Occasionally my attention was caught by the fact that we weren’t alone in the room, when I noticed Kecia smiling at us and when Mary passed by and whispered “Nice” in my ear.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” I told him after a while.

“Thank me?” He pulled back a little, to look at me.

“For the flower. On Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh. That. It was just a little—”

“I know what it was. It was perfect,” I said, drawing him close again. “I loved it.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “I hoped you would.”

I rested my head on Will’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of his sweater against my cheek and his hands on my back. The only thing that mattered was where I was and who I was with now, and when Will’s arms tightened around me I knew I was right where I needed to be all along.

MY HEART

The day for game one of the hockey championships arrived and everyone at school was excited. First thing in the morning I caught up with Will in the hall at school. “You didn’t tell me I needed to plan for this! I heard it’s impossible now to get tickets for tonight.”

His blue eyes widened. “Do you really think I would leave you out? That I wouldn’t make sure that you could go?” He leaned against the wall of lockers, and slid his hand into mine. Our faces were inches apart, close enough to kiss. I forgot that we were at school, that we weren’t alone, that I should be breathing. “Rose?” he pressed.

I snapped back to reality. “Sorry. The tickets. So you have one for me?”

“It helps if you know a player. We get a block.”

I tried to count how many I’d need in my head—Krupa, Kecia, Tamika, Mary—but became distracted again by the fact that we were holding hands and publicly so. “Um, so how many can you spare?”

“How many do you need?” he asked, and I did my best to go down the list.

Later that night when we arrived at the rink, people were streaming in the doors, past scalpers outside selling tickets. A light snow was falling, and the weather report predicted it would become heavy and continue through tomorrow. The approaching storm only intensified the anticipation all around us.

Fans cheered louder than ever as the players shot out of the team boxes onto the ice at the start of the first period, skating in circles while the refs conferred in the corner of the rink. When Krupa joined Kecia and me a few minutes into the game, she nudged me. “Why aren’t you watching?”

I was covering my eyes, so I widened my fingers to peer at her through the gaps. “I’m nervous,” I admitted. “If they lose, it will be awful.”

Krupa drew my hands away from my face. “Will you just admit that you are in love with him already?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” Kecia said from my other side.

I didn’t respond.

“And it’s obvious the feeling is mutual,” Krupa added.

Will skated to the penalty box, hoisting himself over the boards to wait out his three minutes, and the clock began counting down. “You don’t know that.”

“Have you considered asking him if he wants to be more than friends?”

“No. I can’t.”

Krupa sighed and we sat in silence for a while. The last seconds on Will’s penalty disappeared and he was back on the ice in a flash. The crowd jumped to their feet, and between woolcovered fingers I watched as the Lewis players passed the puck between them, the opponents checking them into the boards so hard it made me wince. When they neared the goal the cheers intensified. After no one scored, everyone let out a collective breath, and the teams raced to the other end of the rink. As the tension eased I put my hands in my lap, but the relief didn’t last long. Soon the crowd was up again as two Lewis players, one of them Will, passed the puck back and forth, gliding in between the opposing players like they weren’t there, and Will’s stick came down like lightning to slap it into the goal.

The score went to Lewis 1, Jackson 0.

I jumped to my feet with the rest of the crowd. As Will extricated himself from the pile of teammates hitting him on the back in congratulations, he skated a quick lap around the rink and when he was right below our spot in the stands he stopped. Even through his face mask, I could tell he was searching the crowd. When he saw me, he nodded ever so slightly, then skated away.

My cheeks burned red.

“Oh. My. God. Rose!” Krupa squealed. “Did you see that!”

“I think I’m going to cry, that was so cute,” Kecia said on my other side.

“Right, like he’s not in love with you,” Krupa said.

For the rest of the game I endured smirks from my friends, but I didn’t really care, and when, in between periods two and three, the techno music blared like always and everybody got up to dance, for the first time all year I danced along with them.

By the time we left the arena snow was falling heavily and several inches had piled up. The weather report was now predicting at least a foot, so the celebrations for Lewis’s win would have to wait. Will drove me straight home, his eyes glued to the road. When we arrived at my house, there wasn’t any sitting and talking in his truck because he was immediately heading out to plow the driveways Doniger Landscaping was responsible for during winter.

It was difficult to hide my disappointment when we said our quick goodbyes.

But later that night, Will surprised me with a text.

I’d been asleep and when my cell first buzzed I grabbed it off the bedside table, annoyed. Then I saw that it was Will, and I sank back into the soft pillows on my bed.
The entire world looks like the inside of a snow globe,
I read, smiling dreamily in the silent darkness. Minutes later he sent another text, and then another, and I drifted in and out of sleep between them.

Mr. D’Angelo’s pine tree looks like the abominable snowman,
Will wrote, and sent a photo.

There are snow angels in the park.
Again, a picture, three winged figures already disappearing beneath a cover of white.

Maybe they will cancel school on Monday.
The school entrance was obscured by a drift so high it reached the top of the door.

The next time my phone buzzed Will’s message was different.
Come outside. Wear boots. Bring an extra scarf. And maybe a corncob pipe.
The photo was of Will, one hand reaching away from his body to take the picture. He stood next to the beginnings of a snowman, and a tall black lamppost rose up nearby, outlining him in light.

He was here. In the front yard.

My heart pounded out the words
Will is outside, Will is at my house
and I scrambled to get up, hunting my room for snow gear, but came up with nothing.

Then I remembered Mom’s teacher closet.

I grabbed the crystal heart from the dresser and tiptoed through the living room and the kitchen. The floor of the mudroom was slick with water from the snow that Dad and I trekked in earlier that night and I did my best to avoid the puddles. I took a deep breath and opened the closet door. Among Mom’s paint smocks and aprons I found what I was looking for: puffy snow pants, her sky blue down jacket, and her bright yellow boots, the outfit she wore to play with her kids in the snow at school. I pulled the pants up over my pajamas and put on Mom’s jacket, stuffing the heart deep into its left pocket. I took an extra scarf
and hat from the shelf and ran into the kitchen to grab a carrot from the fridge. After shoving my feet into my boots, I trudged to the door, wrapping a scarf around my neck and pulling on mittens as I went. The second I was outside I stopped.

The snow came up above my knees.

The world was completely silent under a thick white blanket glowing as if it were made of light. The soft wet flakes came to rest on my nose and lips, and my breath caught. It was beautiful. In the middle of this moment of awe, a fat, wet, icy snowball landed splat across my cheek, and it took all the restraint in me not to scream.

“Hey, Rose,” Will called out as I wiped my face. Shielded by my arm from another attack, I turned in his direction. He stood a good twenty feet away, too far for me to fight back, grinning wide.

“You look awfully proud of yourself,” I said. “When you said to come outside, you didn’t mention the part about offering myself up for target practice.”

Another snowball hurtled toward me and I lurched to avoid it and almost face-planted in the steep drifts, but it hit me in the back. Moving through such deep snow was like trying to run through the ocean. “Truce,” I yelled.

“All bets are off in a blizzard,” he said, lobbing another snowball at me.

This one I dodged. Frantically, I began packing snow into my mittened hands, watching Will approach out of the corner
of my eye. I launched a fat snowball in his direction that shattered into a million icy sparkles midway between us, not even close to hitting him.

“Come on, Rose. You can do better than that.”

“Hey,” I protested, already packing more snow. “You lured me out here with the promise of building a snowman. I even brought a carrot.”

“You would’ve come out regardless,” he taunted.

“You think?” I swiveled around so the snowball left my hands like a shot put, and this time it smacked into Will’s chest. I threw my hands up in victory.

“I do,” he said, and pitched another back at me.

“You’re dreaming if you believe I would have left my comfy bed for this.”

He smiled. “I’m not dreaming. You’re standing right here.”

“Don’t you have other driveways to plow or something?”

He looked up into the sky, the storm thick and white above us, tiny specks of snow pouring down. “Not for a few hours. I saved your house for last.”

“So you could pelt me with snowballs on your time off? How sweet.”

His eyes sparkled. “So you think I’m sweet?” He took a swipe at the snow, sending an arc my way, and I shifted in time to avoid most of it.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, and pitched another snowball like I was throwing a strike past a batter at home plate. It
went wide and missed Will entirely. I immediately scooped more to form another. I took a step. “Careful, Mr. Hockey Star.”

“So the truth is finally out: you think I’m a hockey star.” He took a step closer. “Interesting.”

“You know you’re proving my point, right?”

He laughed. “You’re the one who said I was sweet.”

“Since when did you get so forward, Will Doniger?”

He shrugged and waded toward the beginnings of the snowman rising up from the steep drifts.

I waded after him, calling out, “Maybe it’s the blizzard. It’s acting like alcohol or something. Making you say things you wouldn’t normally.”

He began pushing armfuls of snow onto the base. “I thought you wanted to build a snowman,” he said.

“I did. I mean, I do.”

“So get over here.”

We watched each other through the snowfall, icy flecks drifting down around us. I didn’t move.

“I promise I won’t use you for target practice anymore. Truce,” he said.

“Okay,” I relented, and made my way toward him, slowly, each step an effort.

Will and I began packing snow higher and higher, until our snowman reached up to my chin. Occasionally we broke the silence with a word or a laugh, but for the most part we were quiet, concentrating on our icy masterpiece, and I was reminded
of that day when we dug the peony bed, back when we hardly knew each other. Now here we were in the middle of the night enjoying this magical landscape and building a snowman of all things.

“What are you smiling about?” Will asked.

“I didn’t know I was.”

He smoothed the head with his hands. “Tell me.”

I took the carrot from my pocket, broke off the end, and gave the snowman a nose. “First you become forward, then you get demanding,” I said, and removed the extra scarf from my pocket, walking it around the snowman’s neck, careful not to twist Will into it. It was blue-and-white striped, our school’s colors. “Look at that. She’s a Lewis fan. Maybe she’s one of your groupies.” I grinned, pulling the two ends through the loop I’d made, and took out the hat, plopping it on the snowman’s head. I arranged the pom-pom so it would fall forward in a fashionable sort of way. “We need something for the eyes.”

Will turned and took off in the other direction. “Hey, where are you going?” I called out.

“You’ll see.” He walked until he reached the edge of one of the gardens, disappearing behind a high snowbank. Only a few bushes were tall enough to clear the drifts. When he returned, his jacket and jeans were dusted with white. He opened his hand and in his palm were two wood chips.

“What do you think?” He looked at me for approval.

“Perfect,” I said, and he pushed them into the face just above
the nose, wide enough apart for the eyes. Snowflakes were already scattered across the hat and scarf and I wondered if our snowman would be gone by morning, buried in the storm, all evidence of this dream erased. I didn’t know if it was the snowflake that came to rest on Will’s cheek, the part that rounded up from his smile, or the way his eyes shone blue in the reflection of the snow, but I reached up to brush that flake away with my mitten.

And then I kissed him.

I leaned toward Will until our lips were barely an inch apart, put my hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him close until there we were, kissing in the middle of a snowstorm, his lips soft against mine, arms wrapped around my waist and his hands on my back. “Hey,” he whispered after a while. His warm breath felt like heaven in the cold air.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“I thought—”

BOOK: The Survival Kit

5.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads