A Year of Winter

fourteen

“I got in, Henry.”

I could only stare at him for a moment; I stared, straight forward, like I couldn’t believe what he was saying. The world stopped to spin, and it was just me, Andrew, and the void left between us. I moved my lips, not even quite sure if my words were coherent, “…You…you got in?”

He nodded.

“To UMaine?”

The smile on Andrew’s face spread from ear to ear, nodding, “Well, it’s not technically official yet. But they’re sending over someone to see me play, and if he likes what he sees…I’ll get the scholarship.”

I felt myself smile, not able to keep the hatred in me for long. I stood up, wordless, and crossed the room, hugging Andrew with all of my might. I looked up at him, grinning, “T-That’s amazing, Andrew. I’m happy for you.”

He nodded, looking thrilled, “Thanks, Henry.” He said, pursing his lips, “…Now, I know Maine is far away from New York, but I’ll visit as often as I can. And you can drive up to see me play, when you get the chance.”

I nodded, patting Andrew on the shoulder with a grin, “It’s a promise.” I told him, meaning it with every fiber in my body.

Andrew grinned, his eyes shifting behind me, resting on the two abandoned controllers. He smirked at me, “…I think this calls for a celebratory round two, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Carson?”

I looked back at the controllers, laughing in agreement, “Why, I think you’re right, Mr. Luesby. But trust me, you won’t be so lucky this time.”

“Oh,” he chortled, “I think I’ll do just fine.”

❄

The New Year started off pretty well, in my opinion.

After the Christmas party, I’d exchanged a few texts with Winter, though I didn’t see her at all. She sent me bits and pieces from chapters of The Decampment that I’d yet to read at all, showing me that she was quite proud of the fact that she was still ahead of me. Though I didn’t try and fight her about it, because it was true; I hadn’t even touched the book in weeks, all while it seemed she’d been reading it at a mile a minute every chance she was given.

And despite the fact that I liked the book, I really did, I just couldn’t bring myself to read it. I didn’t know if it was just because I didn’t quite have the time, what with all my AP classes’ work, or the ominous threat of college looming over me at all times, or if it was just because I didn’t want to get one page closer every day to finishing it.

Because what would happen when we finished it?

The book was what had brought us together; it was who we were, as the “Book Boy and Winter Book Club of Literary Genius.”

I was quite content with that title, and how it was going. And I didn’t want the end of it to be the thing that’d ultimately tear us apart.

❄

January 7th, 2013

I walked into school on a Monday, feeling pretty confident in everything that had happened, and everything that was yet to happen.

Andrew and I were still on speaking terms, even after all the conflict between us, Winter had kissed me—on the cheek, no less, but it was still something—and I’d finished all of my work over the break. There were no loose ends, and walking to my locker, I could almost feel it. As if all of the strings that had been so unconnected before, all gnarled and tangled like the cords of old electronics, had been sorted and neatly connected. And for once, I felt like everything could work out.