Snowsisters Read online

  She looks startled but relieved. Her eyes dart around the room over my head, and I don’t understand why.

  She smiles and says, “Definitely.”

  Tess.

  Between Professor Forsythe’s insistence that I put myself into The Witches’ Circle and the tension in our group project, I wouldn’t mind pulling the covers over my head and skipping the evening activity. Soph’s silence doesn’t help.

  I find myself thinking again about Chris. I don’t think Chris should be writing secretly about Orly. On the other hand, I don’t want to rat her out. I’m not comfortable with whispering to her about it and I really don’t want to be involved in any controversy. I’ve already irritated Professor Forsythe. It’s hard enough figuring out the writing parts of this conference without having to get personal or explain why I can’t get personal. If this conference was my big chance to show anyone outside of Castleton what I can do, I’m blowing it.

  I manage to sit by Gabriela and Keisha at the other end of the dinner table from Chris, which is a relief. Chris sits with Janaye and Yin. Orly is in the middle of the table, and Yin almost sits next to her. But when she sees Chris, she moves over, leaving an empty space next to Orly.

  Gabriela’s nice, and I relax a bit, talking to her and Keisha. Soph talks to her about poetry. Out of the corner of my eye, I keep watching Soph. Something about her is fascinating. She’s one of those girls who is immediately the center of attention, even in a group of people who hadn’t met before. She’s loud and funny and she talks a lot. She’s always pushing that long, black hair behind her ears, and I would be completely intimidated by her except she’s so friendly that she isn’t intimidating any more. She reminds me of Daphne, the character on The Witches’ Circle, who is beautiful and kind and draws people to her with her magic, only Soph is not quite as wise as Daphne.

  I push chicken and peas around my plate while I listen to Soph ask everyone questions about their writing. She leans toward Orly and asks her about living in the South. She’s friendly about it, unlike Chris.

  “Is it totally different up here?”

  “Yes. We don’t have snow like this. And everything’s so spread out here, just woods for miles. I haven’t seen any fast food places or strip malls like we have at home.”

  “But, I mean, do we seem different? Other than our accents”

  “I don’t mind people being different. But y’all do talk very fast, hon. Butter’s not gonna melt in your mouth!” She laughs. “My Meemaw would never let me talk so fast. She’d tell you, ‘Soph, child, the Good Lord only gave me two ears. I can’t hear as fast as you’re speaking.’” Soph laughs at her impression.

  After dinner, when we pair up, I think maybe I’ll ask to build a snowsister with Soph, to try to mend fences, but Clover slips in front of me at the door, and I can hear them talking as we go outside. Clover asks Soph if she has a boyfriend.

  Soph laughs, a bright, high-pitched giggle, and says, “Not on that team. I like girls.”

  I’m startled, as I was at the pizza place, hearing her say it right out loud. I’m not sure how I feel about it. But it makes me head in the other direction, toward Gabriela, and the two of us push wet snow together to make a base. Soph ends up with Orly, and Clover pairs up with someone else. Keisha wanders back toward Chris, and they invite Yin to work with them.

  It’s snowing, the heavy, soft, wet kind, in big flakes, which is perfect for snowsisters. I like that word. No one at home would ever think to say it. Gabriela and I work together pretty well. I can hear other groups talking as they work on their sculptures. Chris and Keisha and some of the girls I haven’t met yet are all talking to each other in low voices by their snowsisters. I wonder if Chris is telling them about my writing, because one of the other girls shakes her head in disgust and rolls her eyes.

  I hear Soph laugh and I look over at her and Orly. Soph must have gone up to the room and brought back a bra. It’s got to be hers, all black and lacy. She and Orly are laughing, trying to figure out how to fasten it around their snowsister. It’s clever. It’s also not something I would ever dare do, in part because my bras come from JC Penney and they aren’t that pretty.

  Yin comes over to us, carrying a bucket of carrots and rocks for eyes and buttons. I’m reaching in to pick out rocks that will work when she leans toward us. She says, “Hey, Orly’s not really a girl.”

  I stiffen. Chris is obviously talking to everyone about Orly.

  Gabriela asks Yin what she means, and she pulls us into a tight circle. “Chris found out Orly’s trans. He’s really a boy, but he’s trying to become a girl. I’m not sure Chris is safe staying in the same room with him. I think we should say something. Stand up for her.”

  Gabriela asks, “How does Chris even know something like that?”

  Yin shrugs. “She says she can prove it. But I told her she should go to the professors. I told her I’d go with her.”

  My breath catches in my throat. This is not something I want any part of, but I wonder what my dad would say. Standing up for Chris would certainly count as leadership, if she genuinely thinks she’s unsafe. I see Orly and Soph still fiddling with the black bra. Orly flashes a weak smile in my direction.

  Gabriela says, “Stand up for Chris or Orly? If you mean Chris, I’m pretty sure it will be fine. I mean, I’ve never met any trans people, but I don’t see a problem. He—I mean she—is here as a girl, right? So, I doubt she wants to cause trouble with her roommate.”

  She makes a good point. This is why I can’t figure out how to be a leader. I’m always thinking about both sides.

  Yin stares at her, then says, “Well, some of us are going to say something. I mean women have to stick up for each other, right? She nods in my direction. “Right, Tess?”

  I mumble, “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” I still want to stay out of it.

  We all admire the completed snowsisters. Some have scarves and hats. Most have breasts, of varying sizes and shapes. We take selfies and a group photo. Yin and Chris are standing by their snowsister. They ask Soph to come stand with them and she does, slinging a casual arm around Yin’s shoulder. I don’t know how she is so comfortable with people she just met. I don’t know if she heard what Chris and Yin have been saying.

  As we go back inside, everyone stomps their feet to shake the snow off. I look up at the sky again. The snow isn’t letting up. It will probably fall all night.

  Up in our room, Soph peels off her suede boots. As I suspected, they are completely soaked through.

  “Ugh,” she says, “these are a mess.” She tosses them into a corner. “My feet are freezing cold.” She rummages through her bag for a pair of socks. She looks up, frustrated. “I didn’t check my bag after Betty packed it. I can’t find any other socks.”

  “Do you want to borrow some?” I rummage through my bag and pull out a pair of pink and gray fleece socks. They are the warmest ones I own. Her face brightens, and she takes them from me. “Thanks,” she says. “Pink isn’t my favorite color, but they’re thick enough.”

  “What will you wear tomorrow?” I ask, worried. The snow isn’t going to stop, and she said those were her only boots. “I don’t have any other boots with me and I don’t think we wear the same size anyway.”

  She stops pulling on my socks. They look slightly out of place on her graceful little white feet under her trendy skinny jeans. She shrugs, then says, “Don’t worry Tess, I can manage.”

  Okay, not my problem. She changes the subject. “You know, Yin and Chris are going around complaining about Orly being trans.” So, they got to her, too.

  “I know.” I don’t say anything else.

  “Well?” She has a slightly exasperated expression.

  “Well, what?” I say. This is not a conversation I want to have. I don’t mention what Chris said about trying to investigate Orly or overhearing her asking Orly questions downsta
irs.

  “Well,” she repeats, speaking slowly, as though I’m a child. “Don’t you think we need to speak up for Orly? I mean, they’re being completely unfair to her.”

  “Is she really… like, trans?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You know what that means, right?”

  That makes me mad. “Yes, Soph. I know what ‘trans’ means. We know a few things in New Hampshire.” She doesn’t pay attention to the sarcasm in my voice.

  “She told me. I think she’s nervous about being here.”

  “Well, maybe she should try to switch roommates and keep quiet.” I shrug. I don’t want to get into this. But maybe getting Orly to switch rooms would solve all the problems.

  Soph’s eyes flash. “You know, Tess, she shouldn’t have to speak up or keep quiet about who she is. And she certainly shouldn’t have to change who she is for anyone. Chris and Yin are the ones forcing the issue, which shouldn’t be an issue anyway.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “Shouldn’t Orly be able to attend this conference like every other girl here? She hasn’t done anything wrong.” She shakes her head in frustration. “Boy, I was hoping someone would back me up on this. I backed you up with Professor Forsythe about your writing. I’m supposed to be trying to impress her.”

  She’s right about that. I take a deep breath.

  “Look,” I say, “I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want to get involved.” And I mean that. This conference is a real opportunity for me, and I might not have another. My West Point panel interview is coming up, and I don’t want to take any chances with that. One thing I definitely learned growing up in Castleton is that you keep certain things to yourself. But I can hear my father’s voice and I don’t know the right thing to do.

  “Fine.” She’s mad. I can tell. “Understood. I’m going down for hot chocolate. Maybe we need some of this.” She reaches into her knapsack and pulls out a heavy-looking bottle of dark alcohol. She notices me staring. “It’s only Hennessy. We’re not children, Tess.”

  “Soph, all the chaperones are going to be there. Do you think now’s the time for that?”

  She wavers and then puts the bottle back into her knapsack. I hear a chirp and see her take out her phone. “Oh, God, not Mom again,” she says to herself. Then she walks out of the room without another word, still wearing my pink and gray socks.

  * * *

  From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

  February 12, 2018

  Right, wrong, the difference I think I know.

  How can they punish her, even in snow?

  Chapter Eleven

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

  posted by conTessaofthecastle:

  Outside, rain continued to fall. They huddled together in the small cave. It had been pouring for hours. “Aren’t you tired of this?” asked Daphne.

  Astoria leaned up against her, fiddling with a bit of twine in her hands. She was braiding and knotting what appeared to be a bracelet or an anklet. “No,” she said simply, and Daphne was surprised by how calm her voice was. “I didn’t like being out in the rain. But this is fine. It’s better than being at home, fearing for my safety from Lord Quintana and his minions.”

  Lightning struck a tree nearby.

  Soph.

  I’m pissed off by the injustice here. Yin and Chris want to punish Orly and say that she’s not really a girl. They keep talking about “safety,” but that’s bullshit, like my mother’s constant warnings. I don’t get Tess either. I don’t think she likes what Yin and Chris are doing, but she doesn’t care enough to say anything. Total buzzkill on the alcohol, but she is right about the chaperones; I go down for hot chocolate and cookies and to find Orly or Gabriela, but neither of them is there and I don’t see Professor Forsythe so I don’t stay. I can’t be bothered to talk to Grace.

  When I go back to the room, Tess is asleep, or pretending to be. I text my friends,

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] Transphobes in NH 2night!

  [From Lally to Gordon, Mibs, and Soph] What’s up?

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] One of us is trans. These people R freaking.

  [From Mibs to Gordon, Lally, and Soph] WTF?

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] I know, right? Tiny minds.

  [From Gordon to Lally, Mibs, and Soph] Wuts she like?

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] She’s nice! She wants to be here like everyone else.

  [From Lally to Gordon, Mibs, and Soph] R U going to do anything?

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] I don’t know. I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of it.

  [From Mibs to Gordon, Lally, and Soph] You have to stick up for her.

  This is why we all love Mibs. She’s all peace and social justice, like her uncle.

  [From Lally to Gordon, Mibs, and Soph] What are they doing 2 her?

  I think about it.

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] Talking about her behind her back so far. But she knows.

  Mibs is smart about these things.

  [From Mibs to Gordon, Lally, and Soph] Tell them to stop. If you like her, hang out.

  She’s right. If I make a big deal about it, it might be worse for Orly. Maybe it will blow over.

  [From Soph to Gordon, Lally, and Mibs] Thx. Later.

  I struggle to fall asleep. I thought this week was going to be fun and help me get into college at the same time. But I didn’t count on being assigned to the wrong instructor or Professor Forsythe not liking me. I figured people would be too cool to split over something like the thing with Orly. Now I’m stuck with a roommate who’s so timid she will barely say her own name and I may have to leave the whole week out of my Common App.

  Tess.

  The next morning while we’re dressing, Soph and I are that kind of stiff-polite people get when they’re both mad but trying not to show it. I finally get a text back from Joey.

  [From Joey to Tess] Stay safe.

  It makes me feel better. Soph notices me on my phone and asks, “Boyfriend again?” I nod, silently. I notice she’s still wearing my socks when we go to breakfast. Her ruined boots are lying in the corner of the room.

  We spend the morning doing individual work and meeting with our assigned instructors. Professor Forsythe pulls me aside to ask if I thought about what she said yesterday, and I tell her I have, but that I don’t really know how to do it. I think she might hear the frustration in my voice, because she’s friendlier.

  “Tess, the committee thought the chapter you submitted with your application was very good. I don’t watch the television show, but the dialogue you drafted gave a strong sense of the characters. We thought the substance showed promise as well. When I say that I want to see more of you in there, I mean to encourage someone who has an interesting life to write about it. I’d like to know her better through her fiction.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble. Then I catch myself and stand up straight. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I also think you are building something here, but you haven’t figured out where it will go. If you concentrate on what you know best about yourself, you’ll find it. Trust me.”

  There’s no way I’m going to share any details of my “interesting life” on a dairy farm, but we talk about the show and how the season is shaping up. I feel funny talking to an adult about fictional characters on TV as if they’re real people. When I say that to her, Professor Forsythe says, “Just because they’re fictional doesn’t mean they aren’t important. Let’s think of fictional characters we’ve both read.”

  We come up with Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird and Celie from The Color Purple.

  “You see, Tess, these fictional characters with problems, weaknesses, and bad habits, they teach us a lot, and we can think about what they would do when we struggle to solve our own p
roblems. They can be as real as you and I. Harper Lee and Alice Walker would both tell you that they put parts of themselves into those characters. Readers and fans don’t want their characters to be perfect. The writing makes them real, because the writers know who they are. Daphne and Astoria are young women—such as yourself. You want to put them in situations where they learn to use the powers that you think they have but haven’t accessed. You have powers like that too, don’t you think?”

  I don’t think I have any power, and I’m definitely not Alice Walker. But I feel better about Professor Forsythe. She’s strict, but she must be a good teacher. I’m glad she doesn’t think my writing is worthless. I’m still not exactly sure how my story is going to end, but I sketch out a couple of ideas and figure if I keep writing, something will make sense. One thing I do know: I don’t have to post anything I write here if I don’t like it. I’m still anonymous online.

  Before I leave the session, I ask something I’ve been wondering about. “Is it true that you’ll meet with us privately? Not just in the group sessions?”

  She cocks her head as though she doesn’t understand my question. “Tess, this is what this conference is for. To give everyone a chance not only to work with their peers, but to seek out extra guidance when they need it. We’re all here because we’re teachers, and we know students learn in different ways. Sometimes people are more comfortable sharing things one-on-one.”

  “I didn’t know we could do that.”

  “If you always wait for permission, you will miss out on many things in life,” she says, but she’s smiling at me as I leave.

  * * *

  From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

  February 13, 2018

  A week in a place with people unfair.

  I cannot understand why they don’t care.

  Chapter Twelve

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,