“Whatever you call it.”
“That’s the thing. I need a title,” I said. “So then I’ll know what to call it, instead of constantly trying to explain it and failing. Like if I could think of a title that just captured the essence of it.”
He didn’t look impressed. I didn’t expect him to be. Nothing I did seemed to make him think any more of me.
“Did that come out sounding as pretentious to you as it did to me?” I joked.
“You know, I write, too. I’m planning to major in English or Creative Writing,” Conor announced. “Unless I completely change my mind and decide to go into the forest program, which I’m also interested in. You could say I’m a little undecided, I guess.”
We both laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got it narrowed down to English, Teaching, and ah…” I paused.
“Teaching English,” Conor said.
“Exactly,” I said. “I’m all about the teaching English. Actually, I’m thinking about law school, too.”
“Really.” Conor looked very surprised. “You think you could get in somewhere good?”
I wondered if he said offensive things like this to everyone, or whether it was just me. “Do you think I’m stupid or something?” I asked.
“What?”
“That’s like the fourth time you’ve made fun of me and implied I’m not intelligent,” I said. “You realize I don’t have to be in school this semester because I’m basically done, too.”
“Well, sure, who wouldn’t be done at a school that accepts instant messages as term papers,” he replied.
Ooh. He was really going for the jugular now. “Hey. It’s not just IMs,” I said.
“Of course not. You probably have photos and some movie ticket stubs in there, too.”
I glared at him. “Could I just have my Danish now?”
“Sorry. Anyway, I thought you were here to help your sister,” he said.
“I am. Does that mean I can’t be working on an independent school project?” I asked Conor. “You know, you’re really assuming a lot. Like, you don’t even know what else I’m writing, or what I’ve done, or the fact I have a 4.0 average and the fact I’ve already been accepted to college and I have all the credits I need, so this is just for extra credit and for me personally, something I want to do.”
When I took a breath, I noticed him staring at me with raised eyebrows—that look again. The one I kept getting from him when I went on one of my little tirades. “Okay. Sorry,” he said. “The thing about getting in somewhere good—that was out of line.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just—it gets old when people look at me and assume I’m dumb. I’ve kind of had it with that.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He nodded. “Consider me enlightened.”
“I will.” I set my cup on the counter. “Consider this a free coffee, then.”
He smiled. “I will.”
That night, I’d just finished tucking Brett into bed and Gretchen was about to read him a bedtime story when the doorbell rang. “That’s odd,” Gretchen said. “Look out the glass before you open the door, okay?”
“I always do,” I assured her, trying not to get aggravated by the fact she still treated me as if I couldn’t take care of myself.
“Who is it, who is it?” Brett chanted as I hurried down the stairs. Bear was barking like crazy, and racing back and forth in front of the door.
I peered through the windows and saw Sean standing on the doorstep. He waved at me, and I opened the door slowly. “Hey, what are you—”
Bear leaped at him, nearly knocking him over, then ran past him to Conor, who was standing behind Sean and holding a sled.
“Come on! Let’s go sledding!” Sean cried.
Conor gave me a look, like: I don’t really want to be doing this. I was talked into it.
I wasn’t so sure I wanted to do anything with the two of them, either, considering the way they bickered. But, then again: sledding with the Benson boys? I hadn’t had a better offer all year. Or all last year, either.
“Hold on—let me get my boots and coat, okay?” I pulled the door open wider. “Come on in and have a seat.”
“It’s okay, we’ll hang out here,” Sean said. “Just hurry!”
I ran to Brett’s room to let Gretchen know where I was going. “Have fun. Be careful though,” she said. “Don’t break—”
“Anything. Anything at all,” I said. I grabbed my boots, slid into them, and picked up my new, striped scarf, mittens and jacket.
“This is so great!” I said as I stepped out the door and zipped up my coat.
“You like sledding?” Sean asked.
“Oh yeah. I’m all about the sledding,” I said as we started walking down the street.
“You keep saying that. How can you be ‘all about’ everything?” Conor asked.
I cast him an irritated glance. “I’m multi-faceted,” I said. “Is that so wrong?”
“Oh, no. I’m all about being multi-faceted,” Conor teased.
I ignored him and turned my attention back to Sean. “So, where are we going?”
“Minnehaha Falls,” Conor announced. “They’re frozen this time of year. It’ll be an adventure—we’ll just go sliding straight down the creek and then—”
“No, I don’t think so,” Sean said.
“Come on. Live a little,” Conor urged him.
“No way! We’d kill ourselves,” he said.
“Yeah. No kidding, genius. I was just joking,” Conor said. “Just trying to liven things up. Don’t worry, this hill is a little tamer than that,” he said to me as he shifted the sled from his left arm to his right.
“It’s a place where tons of people go, so we’ll probably run into some friends,” Sean said.
“Oh. Well, cool,” I said.
We trekked through a couple of crusty snow drifts, then crossed Minnehaha Creek, where a small kids’ bike was frozen into the ice.
“Is anyone else thinking of that Shackleton movie?” I asked.
“What Shackleton movie?” Sean asked, taking my hand and helping me up the steep bank. “Who’s Shackleton?”
“You know, at the science museum last year—or was it the year before? Anyway, it was really big on TV, too. The Antarctic survival thing.”
“Didn’t see it,” Sean said. “Never heard of it.”
“You’ve never heard of Shackleton?” I asked. “Are you serious? Do you live under a rock?”
“He does,” Conor said. “It crushed his brain.”
“Shut up.” Sean pushed him, and after wrestling for a few seconds, Conor went down headfirst into the snow. We left him there and kept hiking up the hill.
“I’ve read Endurance. It’s an amazing story,” Conor went on as he caught up to us, seemingly unfazed by being dumped into a snowbank by his brother.
The three of us stood at the top of a long hill. There were grooves in the snow from other people sledding here before us, and some large mounds that had been built up to make the sledding more exciting.
“Okay, so I just have one question before we get started,” Sean said with a grin. He dropped the plastic saucer he was carrying, while Conor set down the wooden sled.
“What’s that?” I asked. I figured he’d ask which way I wanted to slide—by sled or saucer.
“Do you have enough clothes on?” Sean said.
“What?” I laughed.
“I don’t want you getting all frozen after we go down the hill a few times.”
“Give me a break.” Conor sighed loudly, disgusted by the two of us, I guess.
“You know, you can go home anytime,” Sean told him.
“So can you,” Conor replied.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Since they looked like they might start duking it out at any moment, I decided to intervene. While they were busy arguing, I molded a couple of snowballs and tossed one at each of them. Then, once they were distracted, I hopped onto the saucer and started sliding and swirling down the hill. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, laughing and yelling, I was turned all the way around and facing backward. I looked back up just in time to see Sean grab the sled from Conor and come hurtling toward me.