The rest of the day is a bit if a blur. Well, the morning is. Which is fine with me, because its better than being couped up in school all day doing mindless algebra problems and reading articles about Hitler and the Nazis.
Since its winter break, my father decided its a perfect time to make me do more work than I would at school. Yeah, I'm talkin' manual labor. The classic, "Hey son, go shovel the snow out of the driveway, will ya?" One of the many requests you just can't say no to. Not because you want to do it, just being its your dad. So I get the shovel, go out there, and start shoveling the driveway clear. This is, I suppose, one benefit of living in a cul-de-sac, cookie cutter neighborhood, you don't even have that much driveway for snow to get on. Even so, it takes me about half an hour to clear a third of the snow out of the way, and I start to feel hot in my coat. My mess of a hair that I don't bother to brush is matted to my forehead from the sweat.
Can you guess who just happened to be strolling through this side of town just as I'm feeling sweaty and self conscious? Yep. Pretty boy himself. There he is in all his glory, standing at the edge of my driveway in his black coat and thick blue scarf.
"Hey, Ant," He says smoothly, using the nickname that he gave me. This catches me off guard, since he only uses that pet name when we're in our own world together.
"Hey!" I respond way too loudly. My voice cracks, and I can feel the wave of embarrassment rush over me.
He chuckles quietly. "Need a hand?" He motions to the snow shovel.
"Oh, um, yeah, that would be wonderful," I stutter, "But I'm not sure that we have an extra shovel." I smile almost nervously at him.
"I got it," He puts grabs the handle. "Don't sweat it." I'm embarrassed at first, then I see his teasing smile.
"You're asking for it, Greenly." I say in a low voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Parker, am I in your way?" His tone is sarcastic, but not mean. "What are you gonna do?" He continues, "shovel me out of the way?"
His stupid puns are bad. Way bad. So bad that I let go of the shovel, bend down, ball up some snow in my hands and throw it in that pretty boy's face. He frantically brushes the cold snow off of his face and out of his eyes. He looks surprised at first, then a wide smile spreads across his face.
"Oh, you are on." He mumbles, bending down to pick up some snow.
And there we are again, alone in the world. Just me and him. Just me and his piercing blue eyes, brighter than the sun. Just me and his warm brown freckles over his light skin. Just me and his beautiful laugh, better than any song or band.
Then, the fragile walls of our kingdom start to fall down at the sound of my mother's voice. She's yelling out the window at me and the angel who I was throwing snowballs at.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Anthony Parker?! Who is this boy you're attacking?! You've covered the driveway with even more snow then it had before! Get in the house right now!"
Her loud, angry voice shot another wave of embarrassment through me. I looked down at the ground and mumble a nervous, "Yes, Mother." I begin walking back to the house, stealing a glance at Mason, who is now walking quickly the other way. He's looking down at the ground as well, and his eyes never meet mine.
When I open the door to the house, Mom is already pounding me with questions and accusations.
"What went through your head just then? Do you even know that boy? Why would you throw snow at him? You made a huge mess out there. Are you trying to scare away our neighbors?"
"He's Mason," I respond quietly. "He's from Youth Group. We weren't fighting, just messing around is all, Mother."
"Mason?" She still sounds angry, a tint of confusion in her tone. "Mason who?"
"Greenly."
"Greenly! Don't you know who the Greenlys are, boy?! One of the most important people in the world! They own that church! Are you trying to ruin our reputation here, boy?!"
Before I can answer, she's already screaming at me again.
"You know how much I hate it when you mess around?! Almost as much as I hate it when you screw up! Especially with a Greenly boy!"
She raises her hand above her head.
Here it comes.
WHAM!
She strikes me on the cheek with her open hand.
My vision blurrs, then clears in a few seconds.
"Go to your room." She commands.
I don't mind doing so, whatever will get me away from her.
In my room, I realize that my mother doesn't know a whole lot about the world. The Greenly family probably isn't one of the most important families in the world. At least, not in this world. Mason Greenly, however, is the only thing holding up mine. •
