Page 440 of Ruthless Court

A minute later:

Hannah: Then he went into the garage for twenty minutes. Mom says that's where he goes when he's trying not to cry.

I look out the window.

Snow covers everything.

Roofs.

Cars.

Lawns.

Tree branches.

A white Christmas.

I never understood why people cared.

California Christmas means mild air, palm trees, and my mother complaining that holiday music sounds wrong when it's seventy degrees.

This looks like a Christmas card.

If Christmas cards could cause frostbite.

Me: Snow is kind of magical.

Hannah: You're saying that because you don't have to shovel it.

I smile.

She still thinks I'm three thousand miles away.

Me: Send more pictures.

Hannah: Needy.

Me: Your boyfriend misses you.

A pause.

Hannah: Your girlfriend misses you too.

I close my eyes for half a second.

Worth the frozen toes.

* * *

The gym is exactly how Hannah described it.

Old brick school.

Blue double doors.

Parking lot lined with dirty snowbanks.

The hallway smells like floor wax and old heat.