Page 1 of My Family

Chapter 1. Liam

It's really fucking cold outside. It's almost always really fucking cold here, but every time winter comes again, I get surprised. I always think it can't get worse, and every year it does. But I like the cold more than the heat, so I'm excited to have a snow day.

Snow has buried everything: the courtyard, the soccer pitch, the razor wire, the tree. It looks dead now. The white is so bright it hurts to look at directly. For a second, I forget we're locked up.

"Holy shit, look at this!" Jack's already in the middle of the courtyard, plunging both hands into the nearest drift like a kid on Christmas morning. Snow flies in a glittering arc. His brown eyes are crinkled nearly shut with that grin. The Batman tattoo on his neck disappears beneath his collar as he hunches down, packing a snowball.

"We're building snowmen," he announces. "Giant snowmen!"

My fingers are already going numb, and I haven't even touched the snow yet. They don't give us enough clothes for this. I mean, they give us a thermal shirt, long johns, gloves, and a thick jacket. Still, it's nowhere near enough to be outside, and the fuckers force us to do our breaks out here, same as summer. Institutional torture is a thing.

But I can't complain much. Not that I don't, because we're talking about me. But even I must admit: if they had decided to lock us up inside because of the cold, I'd lose my mind. So I bend down, scoop a handful, and the cold bites into my palms.

"You're on!" I say, ignoring how much I'm shivering.

Behind us, Miles hovers near the building's entrance. He doesn't join, but he doesn't leave either. We’d like it better if he joined us, but we all know that’s not happening. We’ve learned to accept him hanging back.

Ethan stands a few feet from the door, arms folded. Even in the blistering cold, his khaki pants are immaculate, pressed, and that's so fucking funny. Golden boy. The disapproval on his face is textbook: the kind of frown they hand out with the Student Leader badge. He doesn't have any reason to scowl like that, but I don't think he knows how to have fun without making a face first.

Too bad I'm extremely attracted to that grumpy, mean face. The one that goes soft only for me, in private.

Jack's snowman takes shape fast, shoulders broader than its base. He gives it stick arms and a grin made of crushed gravel. Mine is smaller. I find pebbles near the courtyard wall and arrange them into a crooked mouth, with two dark stones for eyes. The face ends up looking vaguely like it's judging you, which feels fucking appropriate, given where we are. I wrap a handful of dead grass around its neck to make a scarf and step back, extremely proud of my little guy.

"Daddy, look!" I call out to Ethan. We're really past caring if people hear me calling him Daddy.

That gets him. A smile breaks through. Told you he always smiles at me. His green eyes sweep over my lopsided snowman, then back to me.

"Looks amazing, baby."

I duck my head, pretending to fuss with the snowman's gravel mouth so he won't see the flush crawling up my neck. It's stupid, how much three words from him can undo me. I'm already nineteen; I shouldn't be blushing like a little boy every time he smiles at me, but here I am.

Then, a snowball catches Ethan in the center of his chest. Time stops. Jack freezes mid-throw, arm still extended, and it looks like the fucker just realized it was a really bad fucking idea. Snow clings to Ethan's jacket, dripping slowly. His jaw tightens. Those green eyes narrow.

"Fuck," Jack whispers.

Ethan bends down, packs a snowball, and hurls it directly into Jack's face. It hits him square; he screams as if he had just caught a bullet, and I laugh, loud. He sees me laughing and swears revenge. I duck behind my snowman, scooping ammunition, throwing a ball at Jack's shoulder. It explodes there. Yes! But I don’t celebrate for long, as snowballs are flying in every direction, and I’m not really into getting plowed in the face by snow. Plowed by other things: fine. By snow? No fucking thanks.

Jack throws himself backward into the snow with a whump, after he gets tired of being practically killed by Ethan’s snowballs. I’m so glad my Daddy would never hit me with a snowball, because he throws them like he’s fucking trying to slay Jack. I know he’s not actually trying to, but he’s just like that.

"Snow angels!" Jack screams, arms already sweeping. I drop beside him, even though I regret it right away. It's freezing, and my clothes are soaked through, but it’s too late, so I don't fucking care. Above me, the sky is a flat pale sheet, and I move my arms and legs without paying attention to Jack and Ethan, who are now arguing loudly about Jack being a coward.

“I’m not a coward; I just have a sense of self-preservation!” he exclaims, still lying in the snow. I laugh, shaking my head.

“As if! You’re the coward who started a war and now backed away!” Ethan answers. He’s in a good mood; otherwise he wouldn’t be joking around with us. I wonder how I can be so fucking happy in a place like this. But, duh, the answer is right here: Jack doing snow angels beside me, Ethan watching me with that soft face, Miles standing near the door. Then, I stop overthinking and just watch the sky, feeling the cold. Everything else disappears. It's just the infinite and me.

But I have to get up eventually because it is so… fucking… cold. I sit up too fast and the world tilts. Jack grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet before I topple sideways.

"Graceful," he says.

"Shut up."

A staff member appears with a tray of steaming Styrofoam cups. I can barely fucking believe my eyes. Hot chocolate! Kids crowd around him, and I don’t think there will be enough, because we live with the human embodiments of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, sixty of them, but two more staff members appear with more trays. There are even cookies! We fall into line and get our cups.

"Marshmallows!" I almost scream to Jack, who’s at my side, also with huge eyes and an open mouth. It kind of reminds me of Merry and Pippin, the hobbits from The Lord of the Rings, movies I used to watch with my dad all the time. The marshmallows are small, the freeze-dried kind that dissolve on contact, but still. Marshmallows! And I’d fucking love to be a hobbit in the Shire with my best friend, just eating potatoes and pulling magic pranks, maybe in another life.

We huddle on the bench near the courtyard tree, and I hold the cup between my palms. Steam curls up, smelling like cheap cocoa powder, the best kind. My dad used to bring extra packets home from work. He had it in his break room and always pocketed some for me. Good dad. It tastes like water and sugar, and it's perfect.

Jack presses against my left side, radiating warmth. On my right, Ethan sits close enough that our shoulders touch, and I go very still, not wanting anyone to shift. Miles sits across from us, both hands wrapped around his cup.