Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter twenty-seven - tomorrow

chapter twenty-seven — tomorrow

THE SKY WAS OVERCAST. I couldn't quite match the color to anything— it was too gray and too expansive to think about, so I focused on the little flurries the wind kicked up when it blew over the fresh sheet of snow we'd gotten that morning. They got stuck on my eyelashes and built up until they melted down my cheeks. I tried catching a few with my tongue because eighteen was only a number and I still felt like a kid.

"How does it feel to be a man, Kieran?"

I can't feel anything right now.

Fionnuala punched me in the shoulder, her shovel slung over her own like a grave robber. She had a thick hat on, hands protected by way-too-thin gloves that barely covered her wrists.

"Cold," I sniffed heavily, bending down to throw more snow onto the small bank building up on the side of our driveway. It looked a bit like a fluffy fence, and, when the temperatures dropped below zero, it would probably solidify into something impenetrable. When I was younger, I would've gone to Dad's to build forts with Daniel, but it all seemed like too much work now. For all I knew, Dad had probably just used his snowblower and scraped the driveway clean with too much road salt.

"Right," Fionnuala rolled her eyes, shoving me a bit before helping me with an icier patch, the metal of her shovel scraping at the asphalt rhythmically.

"Well, let me know when those magic eighteen-year-old powers kick in, birthday boy."

"I'm eighteen, not five," I scowled, trying to tuck my nose under the scarf Mum had wrapped around my face, "Stop talking about magic."

Fionnuala cackled, squatting low before forcing an abnormally large amount of snow into her shovel. She flung it over the wall I'd made, the wind pushing back and sending tiny pieces back at us as the pile dismantled mid-flight. I spluttered, blinking fast as they melted in my eyes, joining the others on their track down my cheeks, absorbing into my scarf. Normally, the cold was fine— I could handle it after basketball games just fine.

But without adrenaline, the drop in temperature was brutal, and the wind became a bitch.

I stopped to huddle over as the wind responded to my insult violently, almost collapsing the entire pile that lined the driveway. Fionnuala, invincible as she was, joined me, our heads ducked behind the snow back, eyes squeezed shut so tight we saw colors. It was my turn to pat her shoulder, the mutual kick I gave to her shovel returned with a smile as we tried picking the pace up. Our driveway was long and (unnecessarily) winded, and snow loved to blanket it in thick sheets that hid more layers of black ice.

"We should s-sing a song," Fionnuala suggested, taking a break to sprinkle road salt over the small part of the driveway we'd already cleaned. Her teeth chattered loudly and I bit down, hard, trying not to mimic her.

"No, f-fuck that," I shook my head, hefting another shovel full of snow up and over the snow wall.

"F-fine," She threw a powdery handful of snow at me, cackling when the bitchy wind blew it past my scarf and down the back of my neck. I jumped up, neck twisting as I tried not to squeal at the melting water running down the slope of my shoulder blades.

"I was trying to motivate you," She huffed, hacking at a particularly stuck patch with the edge of her shovel.

"Thanks, b-but no thanks. I don't need any motivation," I let some of the snow in my shovel fall out over where she was working, avoiding her furious glare. I punched the snow pile next, wincing when the tippy top broke and crumbled back down into the driveway. I nudged it against the side and patted it down, hoping it wouldn't be too obtrusive.