Snowsisters Read online

  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?

  Chapter Twenty

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

  posted by conTessaofthecastle:

  Market Day in Arden was crowded. The shouts of the vendors blended with shoppers as Daphne made her way to the central square. Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm. Struggling to release herself and jostled by the crowd, Daphne found herself momentarily unable to breathe. She had come this far. If she was forced to return to the Coven now, before she had mastered the space-shifting spell, before she found Astoria, both of them would be lost forever.

  Soph.

  So that was unexpected. Shocking, in fact. Without thinking, I walk back to the lodge. I make it to the room—our room—without having to talk to anyone except Janaye, who sees me in the hallway and wants to chat. I wave her off. I am overheated after the cold outside, and the layers on me feel heavy and constricting.

  I pull clothing off, my hat and gloves, then my jacket and the scarf I have wrapped around my neck. I sit on the bed and fumble with my shoelaces. God, these boots are so clumsy and heavy. I’m breathing heavily. My fingers are stiff and useless, and I realize my eyes are filling with tears.

  Tess opens the door. I keep my head down, but I can see her boots out of the corner of my eye. I have the ridiculous thought that her boots are knock-offs, not “the Original L.L.Bean Maine Hunting Shoes.” This is stupid. I abandon my laces and stand.

  “Why did you do that?” My voice sounds thin and shaky. Goddamnit. She stands in the doorway like some perfect china doll with her long hair flowing out of that little pink hat, cheeks pink from the cold, mouth open a little. Her face is serious, and I realize that she has tears in her eyes too.

  None of this makes any sense. I sit on the bed again, and stare back at her. Now I’m getting mad again.

  “My first girl kiss, and you ruined it. I’m not a guinea pig for you to experiment on, you know. Why did you do that if you didn’t mean it?”

  She steps into the room, pulls the door closed, and locks it. Meeting my gaze, her voice barely above a whisper, she says, “I did mean it.”

  Now I am completely confused. The silence hangs in the air between us until I wipe my eyes, which are wet with the damn tears. I bend down to work on my laces
again. I want nothing more than to get these boots off my feet.

  She speaks again. “Can I tell you about Joey?”

  I don’t want to know why she is cheating on her boyfriend or her not-boyfriend. I shake my head and keep working on the laces on my left boot. The double knot is tight and my fingers aren’t much warmer.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. She stammers, “He, he’s gay.”

  I pause and then I turn back to that double knot, attacking it as if it is the SAT math section.

  Tess speaks again, her voice still a whisper. “So am I.”

  I straighten and stare at her again, hard. She looks terrified, which I don’t understand. That infuriates me.

  I stand again, still in the damn boots, and glare at her. “What, you hate yourself for being gay? You pretend to be straight to convince yourself and everyone else in your redneck town that you’re something you aren’t? Does that make you feel good? Or normal?” Time for a new roommate. I can go bunk with Orly.

  I grab my room key from the nightstand and head straight toward Tess, expecting her to move out of the way and let me through the door. She doesn’t move. I am inches from her, about to push her out of the way, when she says, “Joey. When he tried to come out, he got his jaw broken.”

  I am so close to her I can hear her breathing. She is really crying now and puts her face in her hands. My stomach drops.

  “Oh.” Gently, stumbling in these stupid boots, I guide her over to her bed and sit us both down. She stares at the floor. I rub my hands together, unsure what to do.

  “Didn’t he tell someone?” I ask after a pause. “Get the police involved? Sue? I mean, even in New Hampshire you can’t break someone’s jaw for being gay. It must be a hate crime.”

  “He couldn’t tell anyone.” Her voice is tiny now, and I can see tears coursing silently down her cheeks. I reach out to wipe them off with my thumb. The gesture startles her, and she flinches. I withdraw my hand.

  When I speak again, I try to keep my voice level, even though I want to shake her.

  “Tess, he needs to tell someone. It’s against the law to hit someone. And to hurt someone for being gay. His parents can—”

  She grabs the hand I used to wipe her tears and squeezes it hard.

  “It was his father who broke his jaw, Soph.”

  Tess.

  Later, when I go home and try to remember what happened after I said that, I will have a hard time with the details and I’ll finally give up trying to recall all of it. I won’t remember the few words Soph says, or her face when she gathers me into her arms and holds us together for long moments. I smell her citrusy soap and feel her hair, vaguely ticklish against my face. She gets up and double-checks the lock on the door. I’ve never seen her go this long without talking. And I can’t focus on watching her because of the tears in my eyes, but after she checks the lock she moves one of the nightstands in front of the door, and then turns off the overhead light and comes back to me in the dark.

  The window lets in moonlight until she lowers the blind, still not speaking. Then she unzips my jacket, like I’m a small child. She bends down to undo her boots first, then mine, peeling layers of cold, wet clothing off of me while I sit there, almost motionless.

  I find my voice before she finds hers, as she is pulling the socks off my feet. She’s already got me out of my jeans, somehow, and I’m in my sweater and underwear shivering. “I’m sorry,” I say so softly that even I can barely hear it. “I just really wanted to kiss you.” I can feel a fresh wave of tears about to start, when she looks up from the floor at me.

  She starts to smile, but then catches herself, and asks, “Just because I’m a girl?”

  “No,” I tell her, “not just because you’re a girl. Because you’re amazing. But I didn’t mean to ruin your first kiss.”

  She doesn’t say anything, just turns back to my socks. But then she says the last thing I expect her to. “You didn’t ruin it, Tess. I mean, it’s not ruined anymore.” After that, she tips her head up and kisses me. I will remember that.

  We end up under the covers in her bed, pressed together with the cold seeping from our limbs. I try to tell her I’m not confused about liking girls and I’m definitely not confused about liking her, but I need to keep it to myself for now. I end up saying something jumbled and confused. Apparently, it’s okay, because she kisses me again. She says something, but it isn’t clear and it doesn’t matter.

  The details are fuzzy, but I will never forget how, close to Soph that night, finally warm, entangled with her under the heavy covers, my face pushed into the crook of her neck, I fall off to sleep, feeling something I would never in my whole life have expected to feel at that moment—completely and entirely safe.

  * * *

  From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

  February 15, 2018

  I thought that the closet was the worst crime.

  But there’s more to it, my very first time.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

  posted by conTessaofthecastle:

  As Daphne pulled more forcefully against the stranger gripping her arm, she caught a whiff of the scent that had been haunting her: roses and ash. Astoria was here, pulling at her arm. Before anyone could stop her, Daphne grabbed the hand and uttered the space-shifting incantation, “Actessar.”

  Everything went black.

  Soph.

  I’m the first to wake up and I try not to wake Tess. I’m lying on my side nestled against her back; my arm is around her waist. I can hear her breathing, and her hair tickles my face. I feel a smile spread across my face, one of those big, dopey grins. Last night wasn’t like I expected, but it was still great! I want to stay here for as long as possible. We are very far from anywhere familiar to me. Even though the room is cold outside the blankets, I feel warm and cozy, protective and loving. I never want it to end.

  I run over what happened this week: Chris and fan fiction, skating with Orly, Tess with the carrot; making dinner and breakfast; drinking in the dark; Tess kissing me under a million stars. I feel bad that I made Tess cry. And I wonder about Joey. How could his own father break his jaw? What does Tess’s family think? Are they all barbarians up here? Freddy’s got nothing to worry about compared to Joey.

  Tess stirs, and I feel her stiffen next to me. She straightens, and I am cold where our bodies were touching but now aren’t. She turns onto her back; her eyes blink open, still heavy with sleep, the green flecks in them almost catlike. She smiles tentatively. I smile back and put my arm across her stomach, thinking this means we’re “side by each.” We say the same thing at the same time. “I’ve never…”

  “I didn’t think you were… But you are. I’m glad.”

  “I’m glad you are.”

  I roll forward, so that my shoulder is over hers but I’m not on top of her. I turn my head so that my chin touches her neck and my nose is in her hair.

  Tess speaks first. “So, I guess you came out to everyone in New York?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Then I realize I shouldn’t presume anything. “Well, not everyone. I didn’t take out an ad in the Times or anything. I mean, me being gay isn’t a big deal for my family and school. October 11 is National Coming Out Day. I already told my friends, Gordon and Lally and Mibs. Two years ago, Gordon and I both came out at school that day and then went home and told our parents. Lally came out this year. She’s ace.” I’m nervous that I will say the wrong thing. “Doesn’t anyone else know about you, Tess? I mean, besides Joey?”

  Tess shifts. “Just Joey.” She pauses. “You think that’s bad. I know.” She sighs. I slide my hand from her stomach to her hip and pull her toward me.

  “No, I… Well… You know, it’s better to come out, Tess. Everyone is safer if we all come out and find each other. Don’t
you want to live without having to keep that secret?”

  She sits erect, sliding herself up against the headboard, forcing my hand away from her waist. She rubs her face with her hands, and then, without looking at me, she says in a low voice, “Soph, it’s not safe for me. My town is not safe. I told you, Joey, his father…” Her voice trails off.

  “What happened, Tess?” I’m still lying on the pillow. I’m not sure what to do with my hands, so I pull them back and tuck them under my arms. Her hair is mussed, and all I want to do is run my fingers through it and kiss her again. But I don’t.

  “If I tell you, Soph, it has to stay between us. Tomorrow you’re going back to New York and I’m going back to the farm, but you can’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t be telling you, even.”

  “I understand. I’ll keep it to myself.” I had forgotten we’re leaving tomorrow. Her saying that pushes all the air out of my lungs.

  “Joey and I have always been friends. We went to preschool together. He told me he thought he was gay in ninth grade. And I told him… well, I was figuring stuff out myself. We pretty much knew we couldn’t tell anyone.” She stares at the ceiling while she says this, but she knows I’m looking at her.

  “Joey’s father drinks and he has a bad temper. Joey tries to stay out of his way as much as he can. He always has. But last year, his dad caught Joey on the computer. I don’t know what Joey had on it. He wouldn’t tell me. But his father caught him and accused him of being gay. Joey denied it at first, but his father told him to be a man whatever he was and then asked him if he was gay. Joey didn’t answer, but then finally he said he thought he was. His father took a swing at him and said he wouldn’t have any,” Tess’s voice catches, “f-fags in his house.” Her chin quivers, as if she’s going to start crying again.