Elsa

Five

I'm the first to the big living room with the fireplace the next morning. Rachel and Anna didn't get back to our room until at least 2am, so I'm not expecting them to show up anytime soon.

The food isn't even out on the table yet, so I walk to the picture window and stare out at the snow. I can hear a few people in the kitchen, but out here, everything is silent. 

Or, mostly silent. I hear a groan and tense. I look back at the room and see two hands stretching towards the ceiling from the couch. I walked right by that couch to get to the window and I didn't see anyone? Tentatively, I peer over the back and see someone hidden under an enormous fuzzy blanket.

Didn't they get a room assignment?

I hear them yawn, but their face is still hidden under the blanket. I tilt my head, trying to figure out who it is. Then, without warning, they throw the blankets back all at once. I inhale sharply and step back, hoping they didn't see me.

They sit up, and I see their head of thick, snowy-blonde hair.

Ah yes. He was one of the whooping and hollering ones on the bus. It makes sense he'd be the one who somehow fell asleep on the couch.

I turn away from him and stare out the window, but the peace I felt a few moments ago is gone now that I know there's this wild creature behind me. My eyes catch sight of the trees outside where Pierce led me last night. A different feeling fills me- one that I can't explain.

"Good morning," someone says loudly. It's the boy on the couch. He's talking to me, but at first I pretend I didn't hear.

Which is stupid, because his voice probably carried all the way upstairs. I hate loudness. He doesn't seem to notice the fact that I'm ignoring him because he jumps over the back of the couch and puts his hands up on the window, balancing against the glass as he stretches his waking limbs.

"I think it snowed last night. Good thing, too, since we're going skiing this morning!" he says excitedly, raising one hand for a high five. I cross my arms. "You hungry?" he asks, unphased. He turns around and stares at the table, where I can hear they're setting out the food. "Hey." He snaps his fingers by my ear.

I sigh inwardly and turn to face him politely.

"Are you okay?"

I put on a small smile to assure him. "Yes, thank you. I'm just not very good at small talk in the morning." I'm not good at small talk any time. I'm not good at any kind of talking to other people or socializing in general.

"Maybe some food will change you," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I grimace, but he's already gone, leaping over the couch and striding to the table.

We're still the only two down here, I notice as I reluctantly follow. I fill my plate with potatoes, eggs, sausage, and take a mug of hot chocolate. As I set my plate down near the far end of the table, someone pulls my chair out for me. I look up and see Pierce.

"How are you?" he asks quietly.

I take a deep breath, trying to still my heart. "I'm fine." I sit down and reach for my fork, but my hand is shaking. I put my hands in my lap, grabbing my wrist to stop the shaking.

As the room gets busier I make myself relax, and start eating. Ariana takes a seat next to me, but after a few questions she realizes I don't feel like talking and engages her roommates in conversation.

I observe the table. The couch boy is at the far end, goofing off with his friends. Right now he's balancing his spoon on end on the tabletop and they're all cheering and being loud. My roommates, Rachel and Anna, are having a heyday with the waffle bar toppings. There's maybe twenty people in the group, and I don't know most of them. One kid with sand colored hair is asleep with his head on the table.

I catch Pierce looking at me, and immediately look away. Then I glance back up, and he's still staring. A corner of his mouth lifts in the slightest smile. I would smile back, but he terrifies me. Why is he sitting there so calmly when he knows my secret? Why hasn't he shunned me for my powers? What is wrong with him??

I'm so frustrated by his calmness when I have to live in fear every second of every day that I jump up from the table and leave the room. He's closer to the door, though, and catches my arm before I can get to the stairs.

"Elsa," he says. I jerk away at his touch. People aren't allowed to touch me. I don't let anyone touch me except Ariana, because I can control my powers when she's there, but anyone else and who knows but that a flurry of snowflakes will descend on the breakfast table. My heart shudders, and I can feel ice surfacing at my fingertips. Before it can escape, I run up the stairs and to my room.

Before I can lock the door, Pierce pushes it open. He slips inside and closes it behind him, locking it for me.

"Elsa, what's wrong?" he demands.

I back across the room until my hands hit the windowsill. Pierce isn't following me. The only thing I'm backing away from is myself. I feel ice under my palm and know the window is frosted because of me. I yank my hands away, inhaling sharply.

"You don't understand," I gasp. "It's dangerous."

He takes a step toward me, and I jerk back even though he's still across the room. "Don't come closer!" I say. "You don't know what I can do."

He stays where he is, pulling on the sleeves of his black leather jacket. I'm shaking where I am. I'm not sure what to say. Do I talk about the powers, or myself? Which one will get him to stop staring at me?

"I can't control it," I say. I sink to the floor and wrap my arms around myself, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

Then I feel his hand on my shoulder and I tense, trying to scoot away. But he's got a grip on me. Ice is forming on my fingertips. He grabs me by the shoulders and forces me to look at him.

"Elsa!" he states. "Look at me. I'm not hurt." I stop and look. "It's just ice."

I clench my fists. "I know ice better than you," I spit, standing up.

He stands up with me. "Show me."

I furrow my brow and stare at him. "What do you mean?"

He grabs my coat off the bed where I'd thrown it the night before and shoves it into my hands. "We'll go up on the mountain. No one else will be there."

"I can't," I whisper.

For a second I see anger flit across his face, and I know I'm being difficult. But he doesn't understand- people can actually get hurt- people have gotten hurt. People I love.