Moon On Water (OC)

The wind that passed by me

My hands clasp the warm metal of my flask, blowing on the steam that rose from
Inside of the flask. My finger tips are cold but it grips on the metal firmly. Today is the 7th of December, 18 days before Christmas, a day where families gather 'round a rather festively decorated tree, shimmering with its—most of the time— yellowy lights and colorful ornaments, and open up presents and eat hearty meals. When it's late November to December, that's when the daylight burns like fireworks and the night turns to ashes like a cigarette, leaving its cold smoke for people with warm hearts to breathe in.

I've never been particularly fond of Christmas, as my family—which consists of just my older brother, Mikhail and my mother,— is always too busy to eat meals together. My mother works during the day, from 6:00 to 3:00 pm, waking me up at 4 am to prepare me for my school at 7, cook breakfast then drive me to school at 5 so she could immediately go to work. While my older brother would work the night shifts at a call center, I almost never see him during the day nor at night.  The decently sized apartment I live in with my mom and older brother is mostly deserted, devoid of any signs of humans living in it, except me.

"Hah!" I throw my head to the side and suck on my tongue, feeling a slight burn etched into it, perhaps the soup was too hot? I should've waited a bit more, I thought the bits of snow slipping into my flask would cool it down. I shake my head, blowing the soup inside of the flask and take a gulp of the hot, starchy corn soup my mother prepared amidst her panic of waking up "late" —which was 4:50—, the soup turned out to have a more solid consistency than liquid, but I still drank it, scarfing down the too hot soup in big clumps, feeling it burn as it slid down my throat. As I exhale, a warm, smoke-like breath leaves my mouth and tangles with the cold air and falling snow.

My butt is completely frozen and stuck on the hard wooden bench sticking to the graffiti wall of my school, and I watch kids my age sitting on the big lunch tables and talking happily, each having their own group of friends like a flock of birds resting on a tree branch. 

"Nora!" A boy with freakish white skin, freckled face and curly orange hair jogs up to me, waving his right hand gleefully with a smile on his wide face. His name is Leon, a loud and proud kinda Scottish boy, —who, which may sound racist but you would think it too, does not sound like a Scottish boy but a rather well raised boy in America, which is weird since he has the genes of Scottish people, the voice of an American and lives in the UK— whose parents immigrated to London while his mom was pregnant with him.

I smile at him, lazily waving my hand back at him. He plops down on the small space beside me, clutching his paper bag that had grease stains on the bottom and a slight rip on where he was holding it.

"Gosh, Nora! You won't believe the day I had!" He exclaimed, his mouth wide and open like a basking shark. "Mhm" I nod, taking another gulp of my clumpy soup, it has slightly cooled down now so it doesn't burn when it slides down my throat. "So,"— he starts, unfolding the paper bag and taking out a burnt grilled cheese—"I had this test in pre-calc, of course, the teacher, Sir Lui, gave us only 4 DAYS to study for it, and yes I studied" —he looked at me as if I was going to say he didn't study then went back to bite at the not so burnt part of his grilled cheese—"But we only had 45 minutes for like, 25 questions! Isn't that just too little time for us?????? Is Sir Lui expecting me to solve one question in under 30 seconds -!" I cut him off " You mean 1 minute and 8 seconds? " He glares at me, his small beady eyes turning even smaller, "Whatever the time, it's still too little!" He exclaims dramatically. Then, he starts again with an exaggerated huff,

" You don't get it! He only gave us 4 days to study and 45 minutes to answer 25 questions that take probably about 3 minutes to answer. I didn't even finish number 23! You know—"

" Your grilled cheese is burnt" I blurted out, finally. He pauses, then stares at me like I'm a morphed creature made from 5 different animals that escaped from some scientists' lab. Or like how Katniss looked at the mutts in the arena. "I know." He says blankly. "But you're still eating it" I nod to the half eaten grilled cheese pinched by his greased fingers. He snorts, "Well, cuz I made it"