“I’m not playing twenty questions with you,” said the gruff, teenage boy.
“But whyyyyyy not?” whined the little boy in front of him, his blue eyes widening and his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
The teenage boy was sitting on a rickety, old park bench in the middle of winter. He wore a blue parka, skinny jeans, and a black toque. Piercings covered his face; a lip ring, a nose ring, a right eyebrow ring, a chin piercing, and a dumbbell piercing that ran vertically through his left eyebrow. At his feet sat a little boy with a bright orange jacket, panda ear muffs and gloves, and Avengers’ themed snow boots.
“Mister…” whispered the little boy hesitantly, “I’m hungry.” His pout seemed to be permanently etched onto his face.
“Sorry kid, I don’t have any money. When’d you say your mom coming back anyway?”
“She said that she’d be right back. Why don’t you have any money, mister?”
It seemed all this kid could do was ask questions; maybe they ended up playing twenty questions after all. Still, the teenager answered with an exasperated huff, “I don’t have a job.”
“Why don’t you have a job?”
Won’t this kid shut up? thought the teenager.
“No one’ll hire me,” the boy said through gritted teeth.
“Why?”
Why? Why? Why? This kid was on a fast track to getting throttled by the teenager if he kept asking that damn, incessant, question!
“Why indeed…” muttered the boy as he blew on his chilly fingers to keep them warm. Suddenly there was a panda glove right in front of his eyes. The boy looked at it questioningly, then at the kid. The little boy smiled brightly, showing off two missing front teeth, and shook the glove a little.
“What’s this?” asked the teenage boy and he looked at the glove as though it were about to come to life and bite him.
“A glove silly. You wear it on your hand. For keep warm.”
“Ya, obviously, but it’s your glove. Won’t you get cold?”
“Well, you’re already cold. Your fingers are all red. Soon they’ll turn blue, then black, and then they’ll fall off!” The kid’s voice got louder, more panicky and high-pitched as he went on.
“My fingers won’t fall off.” The teenager had braved colder temperatures than this in his life time; Canada could get quite cold, especially up north.
The little boy grabbed the teenager’s hand and attempted to shove the glove on. His words were punctured with heavy pants of fatigue, “Still… You… Must… Stay… Warm…” Eventually the boy managed to get the glove to cover his first four fingers, although they were literally compressed into one.
“There.” said the little boy, with a self-satisfied smile.
The teenager looked at his fingers that were smushed together under a panda-themed glove, and then he looked at the little boy and smiled. His fingers were warm already.
“Matt! Matt!” shouted a woman’s voice from across the park. The little boy looked up immediately.
“Mom! Mom! I’m over here!”
At the sound of his voice the woman ran over to the bench. She scooped him up and peppered his face with kisses. It was then she noticed the teenager who perched on the splintery bench.
“Matt, who’s this?” The woman eyed the boy warily and took a step backward. Matt wriggled out of her grip until his feet touched the snow coated ground with a crunch.
“This is my new friend. He looked after me while you were gone,” Matt explained with a cheery smile; the teenager involuntarily smiled back.
The woman’s eyes swept up and down the boy. She took in the dirty and tattered parka, the ripped skinny jeans, and the numerous piercings. She reached down and grabbed Matt’s hand; she clutched it to herself.
“We should go Matt. Say bye to your friend.” Matt’s mother turned them around and started walking out of the park.
“Bye-bye Mister! See you again!”
“Good-bye Matt. Stay safe, and don’t talk to strangers.” Matt giggled.
“Honey, where’s your glove?” It was only then she realized that the hand she held was completely bare.
“I gave it to Mister, he was cold.”
The duo turned around and saw… Nothing.
The teenage boy was gone, and in his place sat Matt’s panda glove. The wind whistled through the trees, and a single swing creaked. Back and forth. Back and forth. The woman shivered, but not from the cold.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a new pair.”
They hurried out of the park, but when the woman looked back one last time, the glove was gone.
