A Year Without Snow

-16-

Saturday, 10th December 2016 - 2nd part

I arrived at the storehouse twenty minutes later than what we had agreed, due to the unexpected hairdresser's appointment, so when I got to the big metal door there were already several familiar faces waiting for me.

Scar spotted me first and shouted from a distance, "You stupid bitch! We've been freezing out here!"

"Sorry, I'm so late!" I shouted back.

"No, shit," Carson replied.

But when I finally reached them they all looked at me with confused expressions.

"Did you cut your hair?" Scar asked her expression a mix of surprise and astonishment.

"No, it flew off, Scar,"

"God, it's so small, Day," Grace noted while running her pale hand through my hair.

"Are we going to stay here, freezing our asses off and discussing hairstyles, or are we going to go in?" Bryson asked and I rolled my eyes while making my way to the door of the storehouse taking the key from my brown bag.

"I'm kinda scared of opening this," I confessed as I put the key on the lock.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much dust do you think is in there?" Melanie asked from somewhere behind me.

"A good sixteen," I replied through an almost closed mouth as I put all of my strength into trying to turn the key and open the lock.

"Alright, alright. We can all work with that." Melanie stated in her business-like voice. "Just keep an eye on our ultimate goal, the last project that our High School journey will provide us-"

"Melanie." Carson began saying, "Shut the fuck up. And for fuck's sake, Daisy, give me that damn key." He continued while taking my place in front of the lock, and in a matter of seconds, he had opened that door.

"Calm the fuck down, will you?" Scarlet asked as she pushed him out of the way and entered my grandmother's old storehouse located in a remote area of Oak Hollow, filled with only deserted houses that no one was sure to whom they belonged to and storehouses that people only turned to on desperate matters. The category in which we belonged.

Yesterday late at night, after being pressured by my friends, - half of which hadn't been speaking to me, which made matters only harder - I spent three hours looking for that key that gave us, figuratively, a plane ticket to a distant and paradisiac destination on spring break, I finally found it in my grandma's old drawer.

After Scar had made her way inside, followed by a complaining Carson, I passed the steel door and entered a spacious storehouse where the cold air was heavy with dust, amongst the common scent that most spaces had after being closed for a long period of time.

The last time I had been there, was a few years ago, it wasn't because of happy matters and, ironically, the first time I had looked at this place it hadn't bought many happy memories either. I only hoped that this time it was different, but looking at the luck I had had lately, my expectations weren't high.

After I came in Grace followed, then Bryson, Dallas, Melanie, and a few other senior girls that I didn't know. And with wide eyes, we all stood there, observing our surroundings. The ceiling was high and a few industrial-shaped windows filled the walls. All kinds of old filled the storehouse, from old furniture to brown boxes full of things I could only begin to imagine. But mainly dust, a lot of dust. Memories of a life that had belonged to none of us, generations that had passed, and all that was left of them rested under this roof. Great, I'm getting emotional, I thought to myself.

"Well, this is a good space, it's far from the town hall and residencies, so we don't have to worry with sound complaints. We could definitely do something out of this. The only problem being, all this crap. We have to put all of this in the trash as soon as possible-" Melanie said as she paced around the place.

"Oh, no, no. This isn't going to the trash." I said.

"But what could you possibly want to do with all of this crap, Daisy?" She asked tilting her head and looking at me with an exaggerated frown on her face and a small voice often used to talk to children.

"This was my grandma's crap, so there's no way I'm going to throw it in the trash," I replied.

"You want to take all of this to your house?" Dallas asked as he sat on a big chair that was covered with a white sheet.

"No... Yes. I don't know! I just don't want to get rid of it. If my grandma didn't throw it away, I don't want to be the one who does it." I said as I picked up a small jewelry box that was placed on top of an old dresser.

"Well, we've got to do something with all this." Some girl said.

"Exactly. So whenever you decide, feel free to inform us, Daisy." Carson stated as he too sat on a chair covered by a piece of white fabric.

"Well, this is Daisy's stuff, so it's her choice. You decide." Scar remarked as she placed herself next to me.

As I was about to answer a voice anticipated mine, "She doesn't seem capable of doing so, now, does she?" Bryson spoke while looking at the boxes that were stored in one corner.

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't want to throw into the trash the only stuff I've got left from my dead grandmother who happened to have been the woman who raised me," I remarked back as I made my way to where the boxes stood, bumping into him on the way.

"Will you calm the fuck down?" He asked as I looked at the inside of the boxes.

"I am calm!" I said back.

"'Course you are! Do you hear anybody else screaming?" He ironically shouted back.

"You! You're fucking yelling! And you'd be better off keeping your mouth shut." I couldn't stand hearing the sound of his voice anymore, not here, not with the presence of grandmother so close to me. How saddened she would've been.

"Don't you dare-" He was begging to shout back some hurtful reply, a finger pointed at me and anger clear on his face when Dallas raised his voice above his:

"Shut it! I know! Why don't we keep the furniture? Place the chairs and tables around the place for people to sit and chat. And use the dressers to put the drinks and whatever and use the dressers as a counter." Dallas concluded shutting us both, making Bryson step back from me, shooting me a disgusted look before doing so. He then made his way to me and put his arm around me, "We're all good."

"Well, that's actually a good idea," Grace commented in an approving voice.

"You're not mad at me anymore?" I asked in a low voice.

"No, coconut." H said squeezing my shoulders, "I couldn't if I tried."

"Well, there still are loads of boxes left," Melanie said bringing my attention to the group conversation. She started passing around the space, her arms crossed as she looked around disapprovingly. "Unless you want to use them as couches-"

"You could take them to your house, Daisy. They're not many." Grace proposed interrupting Melanie.

"Yes, that's a good idea." I sighed and leaned on the boxes.

"Good, so we will take the boxes there-" Grace began saying.

"And then we will have to clean this up. We'll wash the floor and the walls, and I guess that the rest of the furniture will need some cleaning, as well." Melanie intervened clearing not liking the idea of someone else taking the lead, "Right, so you three boys will load the boxes and we can start the cleaning."

And so the first few hours of our Saturday were surprisingly calm. After the tremulous start we had, we began cleaning and moving furniture around. Covered the floor with old carpets with Victorian designs and attached to the walls impressionist paintings. The cold weather was soon forgotten as sweat began dripping down on our clothes.

All was calm and well, each doing their own affairs, when-