The Christmas Olympics

The World Is Your Snowball

I woke up sore the next morning. Not only was the air mattress slowly destroying my already shoddy back, but my body ached all over from broomball, especially that last fall, though I wasn't sure if it was my body or pride that hurt worse. I had to admit that knowing I'd finally found the right button to push was very satisfying, even it did cause me bodily injury.

I didn't have much time to recover from either my injuries or my wounded pride (I admitted that I would have preferred a few days time between the games to allow the burn of defeat at the hands of Arden's Broomball team to simmer longer before I had to face her again) as the second event of the Christmas Olympics was the next morning.

Miles and I hopped in the car later that afternoon and drove downtown for the second event. When we arrived, several pieces of plywood were cut in the shape of Christmas trees. There were holes of varying sizes cut in the middle where, I assumed, ornaments should be. Numbers were painted next to each hole: the small the hole, the bigger the number. A huge sign on the podium read: Snowball Throwing. I understood that the holes in the wood meant we would be trying to score points by throwing the snowballs in the holes, but I found myself disappointed that I wouldn't be able to pelt Arden with ice cold snow. Two points for nailing her in the chest. Five points for hitting her square in the face. I grinned with the image.

"What's got you grinning like that?" Miles asked.

"Nothing."

"Hey Miles." We both turned to find Arden approaching with a broad smile on her face. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail and wore that stupid navy blue Patagonia down sweater vest that made her look like she'd just stepped out of REI's winter catalogue magazine. "Morgan," she added, regarding me coolly.

"Hey Arden," Miles said, an easy smile on his face. I hated how he looked at her. Did my brother have a girlfriend? I couldn't remember, but I also couldn't think of any other reason why my brother would even talk to her. The only thing she had going for her were her look, which, okay, even I begrudgingly had to admit that Arden was objectively stunning, like a model or something. I wasn't blind and neither was my brother. He must have been lying to me. "Good game yesterday."

"Thanks," Arden said with her dazzling smile. She was totally trying to charm my brother! "Your team was definitely the toughest game we had."

"Yeah, I bet," Miles said, glancing at me. "Especially since Morgan seemed keen to throw elbows."

I gaped at Miles; what the hell? Why was he throwing me under the bus like that. Hadn't he seen Arden knock me on my ass? Arden, however, only laughed.

"It was fun. Definitely the best game of broomball I've played in a while." She turned her attention back to me. "It's nice to finally have some competition around here. You're definitely going to make this years competition interesting."

I narrowed my eyes at Parker and crossed my arms over my chest. What game was she playing? "Yeah, I'm sure."

She regarded me for a moment, as if waiting for me say more. When I didn't, she smiled at us again. "Well good luck today." She breezed by us.

I turned on Miles. "What the hell?"

"What?"

"What is going on with you and Parker?"

"What do you mean? I told you we're friends."

"You are not just friends with her. I know you said you're not dating her, but are you trying to? Or trying to sleep with her?"

"Jesus, Morgan, no. I already told you—"

"Yeah, yeah, she's not your type. But I just don't get it—why do you want to be friends with her?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Because she's nice, she's one of the few people around my age in town that I get along with, and she's fun to hang out with."