“What’s wrong?” I ask gently. She’s like a timid animal; if I draw too much attention to her expression of normal human emotion, she’ll scurry away.
“Nothing.” She pouts, shoving her face into the cushions, like if I can’t see her tears, then they aren’t there. Sometimes I forget just how young she is. She’slearned to put up walls so things don’t hurt her, but underneath it all, she’s just a kid without her parents on Christmas.
I’ll have to distract her from that awful fact without making her angry. I’ve got to stay with her until her parents come back, and based on the text I received from her mom this morning, that’s two more days. Bella could kill me in that amount of time.
Four months ago, Bella came home from school bound and determined to play on her school baseball team. Her mom said no, effectively breaking her little heart, and no amount of pleading changed the verdict. Now feels like the perfect time to fulfill that dream.
“Good, because there’s no crying in baseball,” I say.
“If a Nerf war was dangerous, I think baseball is far worse,” Soren says, sitting on the edge of the sofa, a smirk on his face like he knows what I’m doing. “What about your belovedElf?”
“Will Ferrell will wait for me.”
“Baseball?” Bella asks, timidly poking her head up from the throw pillows like a groundhog trying to see if it’s just a trick of the light. “How?”
“Snowballs and this.” I walk over to the toy chest and pull out her witch’s broomstick. “Whoever hits the building with Mrs. Morrison wins.”
Sparks light up her eyes.
Soren also looks intrigued by the idea. “Who is Mrs. Morrison?”
“A snobby old lady,” Bella explains. “She lives right there.” Bella points to the building directly to the east.
“So you’re in?” I ask Bella.
“Beat you there!” She jumps off the couch and grabs the makeshift bat. Soren and I follow her outside where we scrape the snow off the ground and pat it into balls. My fingers are frozen by the second one, and I cup my hands around my mouth and blow. I need gloves or at least some socks if I’m going to make it through a gam—
Something hard pelts my back.
I gasp, whirling around to see Soren and Bella high-five.
Ipick up one of my two snowballs and chuck it at Soren. It drops two feet in front of him. He watches it the whole way, chuckling when it misses so horrendously.
“She’s not on my team,” Soren says.
“I don’t want her either,” Bella retorts.
“Hey, I’m standing right here.” I pick up my other snowball and launch it into the air. This time it makes a satisfyingthunkagainst Soren’s leg.
He sighs, but his eyes sparkle with playfulness. “Fine. I’ll keep her.”
Those words, so simple, so childish, cause a tingle to race up my spine. But then I get smacked in the arm by another snowball.
Bella cackles and runs off, hiding behind the hot tub.
“Let’s get her,” I say. We make snowball after snowball, throwing them far and wide around Bella and making sounds of disappointment with every miss. She giggles harder each time she hits us. Soren takes one to the stomach and makes a show of falling over, clutching his gut. He’s a good actor. I have to remember that.
Ice smacks my face, and I reel around.
I look at Bella, but she’s pointing at Soren. Soren, who has a very guilty expression.
“My bad.”
The arrogant innocence is enough to move me. I charge at him. He doesn’t anticipate it, and stutter-steps away, only to slip. I can’t stop myself and fall into him, taking us both to the ground with a thud. My knee hits the hard concrete, but his body cushions the rest.
I’m pressed flat against his chest, our faces mere inches apart. Somewhere above us, Bella is laughing.
At least she’s no longer crying.
