Blizzard Boy ✓

VI

"If you want to keep a secret,
you must also hide it from yourself."
–George Orwell

• • • • • • •

It's Christmas Eve, and the hours pass slowly. Without working electronics, entertaining ourselves is impossible.

Mom and Dad won't be coming home anytime soon. The blizzard will delay their plans and they'll stay in their five-star hotel, wasting money away while pretending to be royals. I snort aloud, imagining Mom sipping at her margarita, faking a sob story about her daughter's blizzard. As if she misses me. Hah! When I turn eighteen, I'll be kicked out faster than I can say 'see you in hell.'

At least this beats last year's Christmas. After Quin's accident, I became frozen in a sort of trance, blaming myself for his death. I was never suicidal; instead, I lost the will to live. Getting out of bed consumed so much effort that one day, I stopped. After finally agreeing to try, my thoughts became worse. Owning a phone was shot even lower on my priority list when I recieved letters in the mail from Quin's admirers. Everyone blamed me for his recklessness. People had heard us arguing at the party, and rumors spread like wildfire.

I recovered eventually, recognizing the truth: I shouldn't pause my life to mourn his. Quin and I never had a good relationship. Whereas my moral compass used to run strong, his words tampered it, making me wonder silly things. Am I enough? Should I give him more? It's what caused me to relent to his physical and eventually, mental, persuasion.

When I stood up to him, he made a stupid decision that led to his death. My fault, yes, but not my mistake. Living with the guilt is better than being forever bound to him, an unfaithful boyfriend who turned me into his toy.

Now I'm left to my own thoughts. Miles and I work in silence. We've become skillful architects of coffee cup construction, making first an Eiffel Tower, then a Colosseum. Our current masterpiece is the Empire State Building.

My partner in crime adds another cup to the stack, arm flexing as he does so. "Any canceled holiday plans?" His voice is husky and breaks the comfortable silence.

"I was going to stay at home and bake, but these pastries are better anyway." My installment almost makes the entire tower fall. I stabilize it with my elbow. "How about you?"

"Just celebrating with family." He sighs and sits down in a chair. I watch as he rests his legs on the table and leans back, closing his eyes. "This might seem silly, but I really miss them."

"That's not silly at all."

"Yeah. I suppose not." As an afterthought, he adds, "Especially Anna."

I can't help but ask. "Anna?"

His eyes snap open, as if surprised, before his face turns into a funny expression. I raise an eyebrow, preparing to ask about it, when the expression dissolves into its former mask. "Oh. Yeah. She's uh, my little sister. She's two."

That's a big age gap between siblings. Perhaps he's embarrassed about it, hence the hesitation. "That's cute. You two spend time together?"

"Yeah. Anna is my little princess," he murmurs. "I... I adore her."

I crack a smile. Guys talking about their little siblings is one of the most heartwarming things to witness.

"My mom is an amazing woman, too. She spends a lot of her time in the garden. We live further out," he explains, "in a more rural area. Most of our food is grown by hand."