Chapter Nineteen

From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

posted by conTessaofthecastle:

The sunset that night burned brightly in every color. Daphne reached a clearing on a rocky hill. She didn’t even notice the sky stretched in front of her, deepening into vibrant shades of orange, purple, and blue. The Portal of Arden lay below. She didn’t take her eyes off it as she walked. She was so exhausted she wasn’t even sure what she was walking toward anymore, the Portal, Astoria, the spell-caster. They all blended in her mind and she knew only that she couldn’t stay where she was. There was a small house halfway down the hill. Stumbling wearily, she looked to see if there was a haystack or a barn she could hide in for the night.

Soph.

Tess reminds me of something Gordon once said about Lally. “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her.” I think she knew I was going to say not to ask Chris. After last night, who needs the tension? But she’s right. Janaye was right, too, that Tess would know something to do. It was fun making dinner with her the other night, and she was a decent drinking buddy last night. Maybe she isn’t all that serious.

Orly is in the lounge, and I poke my head in to ask if she wants to go with us. She smiles and shakes her head. “The teachers found out about Chris and her carrot. I understand that Grace is about to make Chris apologize to me. I reckon I should stick around and see how that goes.”

By the time we make it to the kitchen there are eight of us, including Yin, Gabriela, and Peggy. Tess puts her finger to her mouth to tell us to keep quiet as we sneak into the kitchen to take the trays from the dishwashing rack. Then we edge along the far wall of the dining room so that Grace won’t see us.

The sun is finally out. Ice coats the snow, and we make crunching sounds stepping through it as we tramp behind the lodge to a hill. At the top, Janaye yells, “Like this.” She takes a running start holding the tray in front of her, drops it, jumps on it, and rides it down the slope on her knees.

Everyone else goes ahead, until I’m alone at the top. Tess is at the bottom of the hill; her pink jacket sets her apart from the other girls. I pause, watching her. Then I remember Joey and I jump on the tray I’m holding and slide down the slope.

When we sneak back into the lodge later in the afternoon, we find Professor Forsythe, Joan, and Celestine sitting in the lounge with Grace.

Celestine says, “Make sure all those trays find their way back to the racks, please.” Before I can apologize, I see Celestine smile and wink broadly to show they aren’t mad.

I stop to ask Orly how the apology went. She rolls her eyes and says she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Tess.

After dinner tonight, they show a bunch of TED talks by women authors. I’m bored until Soph leans over and whispers in my ear, “Let’s go outside.” She and Orly tiptoe out. I take a look around, but no one is paying attention. Clover and Janaye are in the lounge having a debate about whether graphic novels count as real literature, so the three of us run up the stairs, grab our coats and snow boots, and run back outside.

It’s dark and the stars seem fluid, there are so many. “Are we going to make snow angels?”

Orly asks what they are.

“We’ll show you,” Soph assures her. “We stand together, lie on our backs in the snow, and wave our arms so the impressions in the snow make angels’ wings.”

We find a clear patch of snow and lie down on our backs. Orly gasps when she feels the cold through her clothing. Then we jump back up, and when she sees the three identical angels side by side under the moonlight, Orly smiles. Soph and I stand on either side of her and we each touch one of her arms.

“You can’t tell who’s who,” says Orly. It’s clear she likes that.

“No,” I say, “and snow angels always wear robes, so when I was little I thought they were all girls, even when boys were making them. They’re another kind of snowsister, I guess.”

“How long will they last?” Orly asks.

“Oh, they’ll—we’ll—probably be filled in with fresh snow before the weekend.”

“But we’ll still be there together, under the snow, even if no one can see us?”

“At least until there’s a thaw,” I tell her. I misunderstand what she means.

But Soph gets it. “Even when no one can see us,” she says. “Even when we’ve gone home and we’re far away from each other.”

We’re quiet. Faint noises come from the lodge behind us, and people move in the lighted rooms. The sky is close and cold.

Finally, Orly announces, “Okay, girls, the weather’s too much for this Georgia pecan,” and goes back inside.

Soph wants to stay, and I do too, with her, the girl from another world. We decide to walk around to the back of the lodge and visit the original snowsisters.

It’s the kind of cold that makes your feet squeak when you walk, and we can see our breath as we go. My fingers stiffen inside my fleece gloves. I shove them in my pockets to warm them up. I can feel the cold all down my legs where my jeans got wet from lying down.

“New Hampshire is really beautiful,” Soph says, stopping on the shoveled path and looking up. “You never see this many stars in the City. Too bad I’ll never get into Minerva now.”

I look up, too. It’s nice, being out here, just the two of us. I decide to ask her something, since we’re alone.

“Soph, what you said earlier this week about playing follow-the-leader.” Her breath comes out in clouds. “Did you mean it about me being a leader?”

“Totally.” She shrugs. “Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it? Do you think I’m some kind of phony?” She sounds more surprised than mad.

“I don’t know. No.” I’m going out on a limb. At least no one else is outside. My heart thumps, although that could be from the cold. “People say a lot of things they don’t mean.”

She’s genuinely curious now and asks, “What do you mean?”

I focus on my boots in the snow. I can’t do this. I want to do this. I can’t do this. Joey, can I do this?

Apparently, Soph realizes I’m trying to figure something out, because she asks me her own question without waiting for me to answer. “You stuck up for Orly. You even stuck up for Chris. Did you mean that?”

“Of course I did,” I say, indignant that she would question that.

“Well,” she draws out the word, and pushes her wool beanie back from her forehead, “I mean, you’re a pretty conservative girl.”

She must see my confused expression, because she keeps talking quickly.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, Tess. Really. You know, you wear all these pink feminine clothes and you go to church. You’re going into the military. You get your boyfriend’s approval for most of what you do. You talk to him every day, as if you have to check in with him, and so I wonder—”

I interrupt her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“But—” She’s confused. “But you told me about him. And you text him all the time. Today, you texted him again, this morning. You said—”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Soph.”

“But you said—” She’s genuinely confused now. I can do this. I want to do this.

I cut her off. “It’s a long story. He needs a girlfriend. We’re friends. I need to do this for him.”

She shakes her head and walks ahead of me. I struggle to catch up with her on the narrow path. She turns and we face each other.

“I’m lost. How come he gets a girlfriend but you don’t get a boyfriend?”

“No, Soph… I’m not his girlfriend. And I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“Then you didn’t mean what you said, but you’re saying you didn’t believe me? Tess, I’m still lost. And I’m back to wondering about you defending Orly and Chris.”

Soph’s face is flushed, and she stares at me. She’s mad now. Her mouth is slightly open. Her lips look wet. I think to myself, I can’t do this.

“Tess, can you explain, please?”

I reach for her arm and pull her to me. She stumbles forward stiffly, and I kiss her, faster than I expected to, but slower than I imagined it would be. I feel her lips tighten at first and then relax. The next thing you know she is kissing me back; her mouth is warm and soft on mine. The nighttime air is cold around us, but I can feel the heat radiating from her.

Then she pulls away from me, turns quickly, and walks back to the lodge without saying a word.

* * *

From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

February 15, 2018

We three step out, make angels in the snow.

She kissed me! What the devil do I know?