A Year of Winter

twenty-two

February 4th, 2013 

“So…she’s just leaving you clues, or something?” Andrew asked with confusion, after I’d called him and Noelle back to my place. He sat on my bed, my copy of the book in his lap as he looked over Winter’s message a hundred times in confusion. “That’s kind of…well, fucking weird.”

“I don’t think they’re clues on anything,” I told him, taking the book from his hands and holding it closer to my chest. “I don’t think she’s worrying about leaving a trail for me to follow. It’s not like before, when she wanted me to find her. She’s not worrying about being mysterious or cryptic or anything. She just wants me to know that she’s trying to set everything straight.”

Both Noelle and Andrew fell silent, and Noelle who was positioned at my desk, raised a brow in curiosity. “But set what straight?”

I frowned, sulking, as my face fell in my hands. “I don’t even know.”

"Well, I’m exhausted by this already,” Andrew said with an exasperated sigh, collapsing on my bed, clutching a pillow over his chest. “I’m kind of wishing she did just leave a clue.”

I pulled myself back up, setting my book on the bookshelf. As I was up, Andrew took out his phone, cursing under his breath as he caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit, man, I’ve got to get going.”

“What, why?”

“Dinner with the soccer team,” he said, picking up his bag from the floor, slinging it across his shoulder.

Noelle peered at him grudgingly, “The season ended in fall, Andrew.”

“Yeah, but we’re all friends. We can still all hang out.”

“Whatever.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at her, “Well, okay. C’mon, let’s go, I’ll drive you home—”

“—I, um, think I’ll stay and hang out with Henry,” she muttered.

Andrew’s eyes widened, frowning with confusion. He looked back at me, “…Is that okay with you?”

I shrugged, impartial. “It’s okay. I can drive her home in a few hours.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed a bit, and he looked at Noelle. Her eyes were set on the ground, avoiding his gaze. As he watched her, his grip around his backpack tightened and he turned around. “Fine. I’ll text you later, then?”

“Do whatever you want, Andrew.”

He gave her one last look of irritation before he turned around, the door slamming forcefully behind him. Moments passed before I felt comfortable to speak up.

“Are you two…okay?”

She sighed, running a hand through shiny brunette locks. Standing up, she fell back on my bed, curling her legs up to hug her knees. “We’ve been fighting a lot recently. He’s mad at me for not going to college in Maine with him like we’d planned, and I’m mad at him for being mad for something so stupid.”

I sat down on the bed, approaching her with caution. “I’m sure he’s just upset. UMaine is a long way away from FIT.”

“You know, I never actually planned on going to Maine with him,” she said softly. “I didn’t even apply. Know why? Because I’d fucking hate it. And what’s so wrong with wanting to do what I want?”

“Nothing,” I told her simply. “You should be doing what you want. If Andrew doesn’t get that, well then…”

He doesn’t get that. He’s never gotten it,” she grunted. “I’ve been to every single fucking soccer game of his since sophomore year. I don’t even like soccer!”