That Night
Oh, great snow mound by the dumpster, take me away!
I slip into my hoodie and slap on my headband. My shoes haven't completely dried from last night's feats. I broke my ski-jump record, landing two footsteps past the corner of the building, then stole hearts on the dumpster's icy rink. I celebrated, standing on top of the mound, munching on snowballs.
I better enjoy it while I can. The weather has been warmer this week. The mound is on its last leg, grimy, half-melted.
"Tonight, the Winter Games continue," I say in my football voice. "Chase Brenton will see how far he can chuck a snowball across the complex parking lot." I raise my voice to sound like the news anchor. "That sounds like an accident waiting to happen!" And back to low. "Well, in the event that Chase does nail a car or passerby, he'll have to take a penalty."
The penalty?
"He'll have to...he'll have...to put a chunk of snow down his neck." I go high. "That's cold!" And low. "Literally!"
Chase...
Chase will have to wait to play. Black alert. The Games are in trouble. Two kids have overrun the mound. I don't know them. I don't want to. They haven't seen me yet, but I'm surprised I didn't hear them at first. They're shouting, stomping a hole in the heart of the mound.
Oh well. I didn't want to play outside anyway.
***
It's a late dinner because the inside of the chicken TV dinner in the oven was like...nope!
"Eat up."
"Thanks."
The "estimated time" listed on the back of the boxes is legalese for "yeah, we know it's wrong, but try coming at us, feeble commoners." I wish I could do that, get a math question wrong but have billions and a lack of government oversight to get an A anyway.
I know, too steep for me.
"It's a big night in the Ice Auditorium as the semifinals are underway. The winners play for a shot at gold, the losers a shot at bronze."
The curling commentators are the worst at bringing the excitement, but I don't need them. I'm buzzing from head to the foot that's asleep under my weight.
"Team Kinsley up first..."
Team McGhee almost takes the first end, but Kinsley comes back with a delicate touch around the guard stone.
Speaking of comebacks, I knew it. Look what happened this morning. I knew that Kieran's attitude would find a way. New school, old school, I can't escape his know-it-all grip. Did he have to stick his nose in the FN conversation? I know it's violent, but you don't see me turning into a brainless idiot, punching strangers out in a parking lot.
"Wow! What a concept. Knowing the differences."
My parents know I watch those highlight videos and they don't say anything. I should shut my thoughts off before I jinx myself. I was only an email away from being dragged out of my old school. All it'll take is another convincing email from Kieran's parents to ruin FN, too.
Stupid.
Team Kinsley dominates the second end with a flurry of stones in the button, but like my morning, it's a downward spiral. Team McGhee knots it up after four and breaks away after five, using Kinsley's guards against the other stones.
On the ride home from school, I was almost in the mood to tell Mom about Josh and Ash. I didn't, but the thought was there.
"Oh, Chase! You made new friends!"
YOU ARE READING
Castling: A Novel (NaNoWriMo21)
Teen FictionIt's a slice-of-life centered around "Chase the Ace," who finds himself changing schools against his will mid-year to help make the most of that brain of his. It'll be good for him, they say. He won't be so bored. He'll get to be with an old friend...
