by Yari Garcia
Warmth of Winter
A short story by Yari Garcia
aka Moody Thursday
Copyright 2015 by Yari Garcia
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents:
Warmth of Winter
Note from the Author
About Yari Garcia
Other eBooks by Yari Garcia
Bryexe: She Lives in a Dollhouse FREE preview
Warmth of Winter
Chapter One
Carine did a little hop to adjust her backpack as she walked down the snow-lined sidewalk. She lifted her chin up to allow the cold chill of winter to refresh her face like a cool menthol breath. She took off her mittens and stuffed them in her pocket—the mittens her mother had knitted for her, even though Carine told her a hundred times that she didn’t need them. Still, it was a sweet gesture from her mom, and she had accepted them with a “thanks”.
Carine reached the frosty glass door, so familiar to her now, and stepped inside.
“Hello, Miss Gretchen,” she greeted the elderly woman who smiled warmly at her.
“You need a scarf, child,” Miss Gretchen said in a grandmotherly tone. “It’s in the low 10’s out there.”
Carine grabbed the clipboard that Miss Gretchen offered her. “I’m okay, I don’t need a scarf,” Carine said as she signed her name. “I’m pretty warm-blooded. I love the cold.”
Miss Gretchen chuckled. “Well, I’m sure glad you’re back this year. We can use all the help we can get. And all this volunteering will be great when you’re applying for college, too.”
Carine slid the clipboard back her way. “Oh, you know I do it for the love,” she said to Miss Gretchen and headed down the hallway to the break room.
Although volunteering at Warmth of Winter had initially been her mother’s idea to get in some volunteer hours, Carine truly did do it for the love now. She had started when she was just in the eighth grade and had come back every year since. This was her fourth holiday season helping out at Warmth of Winter, and she couldn’t imagine it ever being any other way. She loved being part of the true holiday spirit of helping others. Carine had even gotten to know the people who came in for regular meals and knew them on a first-name basis. Her heart always swelled to know she was part of the reason why those living in poverty received a warm meal and a place to eat during the cold, harsh Chicago winters. She absolutely loved volunteering.
“It’s about time.”
Except for the part where she had to work with Misha.
Carine took a deep breath. She had hoped Misha would have had plans this year. Maybe to see her family in a place far, far away. Yes, Warmth of Winter needed all the volunteers they could get, but Misha was hardly a volunteer. Trying to clock in hours to impress Ivy League colleges, Misha mostly bossed her around and sat on her butt. Warmth of Winter would probably run even better without her there.
“Hi, Misha,” Carine greeted. Every year she hoped that a little of the Christmas spirit would seep into Misha’s heart. Would this be the year her bully would turn into her friend?
“Some idiot threw up just outside the bathroom because he didn’t make it to the toilet,” Misha said with disgust. “You need to put your stuff away and go clean it up.”
Maybe this wasn’t the year, after all.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” Carine shoved her backpack in a cold locker and shut it. “So, how’s Christmas vacation going?” Carine asked, but when she turned around, Misha was already leaving the break room.
****
After cleaning up an impressive amount of vomit, Carine washed her hands thoroughly at the kitchen sink. She took a handful of the bubbles and brought them up to her face to inhale the scent of lavender. Anything to get the stink of barf out of her nostrils.
Carine dried her hands and stepped over to the counter by the wall. On it sat a large microwave, a coffee maker, a blender, and other kitchen appliances. She reached up for a mug and filled it with cold water. Then she reached for her favorite tea—blueberry mint.
“I don’t know what it is about poor people, but they’re just disgusting,” Misha said acidly, making Carine cringe. “Someone missed the toilet. Again. You need to clean it up before Miss Gretchen sees it.”
“Poor people are not disgusting,” Carine said, not turning to look at Misha. “Sometimes the elderly have a hard time, is all.” Carine turned around, holding tightly onto her cold cup of tea. She hated standing up to Misha, but sometimes she felt like she just had to speak up. “Some of them have Parkinson’s, Misha. It’s difficult for them. Grow a heart. And do your part—clean it up.”
Misha eyed Carine up and down as she held her cup of tea. Carine looked down into the cup, her bare hands wrapped around the porcelain, warming up the water to a boil.
Misha approached her, her eyes turning to angry slits. “I don’t care what they have, I’m not cleaning up after them. You are.” Misha looked down into Carine’s cup, which was now giving off steam. “Don’t forget that I know about you, Carine.”
Carine stiffened up. She looked up at Misha’s eyes.
“Oh, did you forget?” Misha said in a mocking tone. “That little power of yours is dangerous.” She pointed at Carine’s cup of tea. “You could hurt people. And I can tell everyone about it, and then you won’t be allowed to come here. Heck, you probably won’t even be allowed back in society.”
Carine blinked to push back tears.
“So get in there and clean that toilet.”
Chapter Two
Carine looked down to see she had stained her shirt with bleach. Great. That was one of her favorite tops. She exhaled loudly, wondering why it was her luck that she ended up stuck with someone like Misha. If Misha was taken out of the equation, her holiday volunteer work would have been perfect—even with cleaning the bathrooms constantly. Why couldn’t I have ended up with someone happy to help? Someone more… like me?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Miss Gretchen knocking on the open bathroom door. “Honey, we have a new volunteer. Come meet him at my office.”
“Yes, Miss Gretchen,” Carine said and followed her out.
When Carine entered Miss Gretchen’s office, Misha was the first person she saw—and the last person she wanted to see. Her mood had taken a nose dive from the first words that were spoken between them. Then Carine looked at the chair besides Misha, and her heart seemed to stop.
Sitting there was the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen. ‘Made-for-TV-cute’, as her best friend used to say. He had pitch dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, dark eyebrows, and piercing blue eyes. His skin was fair and acne-free and, when he smiled at her, she thought she would swoon right then and there.
“Carine, this is Flynn. He’s our new volunteer,” Miss Gretchen said, completely unaware of the fireworks going off in Carine’s head.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Flynn said. He quickly stood up and approached her with an extended hand. Carine tentatively reached out and shook it, electrified by the sensation of touching the guy. Flynn smiled and shook her hand back, holding her gaze, grabbing onto her hand a little longer than necessary.
Miss Gretchen cleared her throat, and they broke contact.
“I need you and Misha to show him the ropes around here,”
Miss Gretchen said. “How to cook the main meals, where to store the food donations, how to use the cleaning supplies… that kind of thing.”
Flynn still held her eye contact, and Carine didn’t know what to do. She started to feel naked, being scrutinized by such a strikingly handsome guy, but she couldn’t bear to look away.
Misha stood up and wrapped her arm around Flynn’s, causing his eyes to finally leave Carine’s. “Don’t worry, Miss Gretchen,” Misha spoke, looking at Flynn, all up in his personal space. “I’ll take good care of him.” Misha gave Flynn a sparkling toothy smile.
“Okay, girls. You can start by showing him how we do our lunches. It’s about that time, so go get started.”
Misha led Flynn out the door, her arm still interlocked with his. Flynn glanced back at Carine’s eyes as they walked past her. Carine followed them out with shaky knees.
****
“This is where the magic happens,” Misha said sweetly and giggled at her own joke. She extended her arms, showing Flynn the long bar where the sandwiches for lunch were made.
Carine rolled her eyes. Now more than ever she wished that Misha would just disappear. She clearly liked the new guy, and there was no way Misha was going to leave him alone. Carine had seen her act like this before and knew what would happen—Misha would be off flirting with the new guy while she did all the work. Feeling the anger rising up inside her, Carine stepped up to the bar to get started. She had work to do.
“You can just start handing Carine the rolls,” Misha said to Flynn. “She’ll get the sandwiches started.”
“I want to help,” Flynn said and, to Carine’s surprise, took the place next to hers. He stood close to Carine and smiled at her. Carine looked up to see that Flynn’s eyes had several different shades of blue. “So, you can start handing us the buns,” Flynn said to Misha, not looking away from Carine.
Carine smiled back at him, then looked down to start setting up her station. She felt a warmth rise inside her that she had never felt before. Does he like me? She thought, thinking “no way” and “it’s possible” at the same time. She wasn’t going to question it, though. She was happy that Misha was fuming, opening the packages of bread to give to them.
“You’ll have to tell me how to do this,” Flynn said to her. Carine wondered when she would stop being shocked that he was actually speaking to her. “I mean, not everybody likes the same toppings, right?”
“Um, no, they don’t…” Carine answered dreamily. She focused on the ingredients in front of her, fearing that looking into his eyes any longer might render her unable to function. “The young kids prefer simple white bread, usually just ham and cheese—no lettuce, no pickles. The adults like the wheat bread more, and lots of black olives, lettuce, and tomatoes.”
Carine felt a little silly talking about making sandwiches, but Flynn listened like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“And I always chop Claude’s toppings into small pieces,” she added. “He’s a regular here. He has a hard time chewing because of his old dentures.”
“Wow, that is so sweet,” he said and placed his hand on hers. “Really, that’s very sweet of you.” Then he went back to grabbing some lettuce, completely unaware of the effect he had on Carine.
****
“That was some great sandwich-making you did, Carine,” Misha hissed at Carine. Flynn had stepped out to wash his hands while Carine and Misha set the sandwiches on plastic trays.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carine replied, not wanting to prompt Misha to say any more. But she did.
“Stay away from him,” Misha warned in a low, menacing tone. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Misha, I’m not doing anything.”
Misha folded her arms across her budding chest. “I like Flynn.”
“So?” Carine said, moving away from Misha to set up more trays, but she followed.
“So stay away from him,” she said. “Or I’ll tell everyone your secret.”
Carine stopped what she was doing to look up at Misha. She searched her eyes, but all she saw there was hatred. “You’d tell on me, just because I’m working with a guy you like? You’d stoop that low??”
“I’ll stoop even lower, Carine. Stay away from him. If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone what you can do—starting with him.”
The words rang in Carine’s ears as Misha stomped away.
Chapter Three
Carine handed out trays of lunch. A long line had formed in front of her, and she greeted everyone with warmth—even though she felt cold as ice inside. When Flynn had come back from washing his hands, he had approached Carine, but she knew she had to walk away. Instantly, Misha was at his side, tugging him in the other direction to show him the rest of the facility.
“Hello, Magda,” Carine greeted an elderly woman as she came up. “How are you this winter? Staying warm?”
“Oh, Carine! How good to see you!” Carine set the tray aside so she could give Magda a hug. She was careful, as the older woman felt fragile in her arms. “You are an angel, coming here every year,” Magda said as she placed her palm on Carine’s cheek.
Carine winced. Her hand was freezing.
“Magda, it’s cold out there. Do you have a pair of gloves?”
“Darling, I do not,” the old woman said. “I wore out my last pair.”
Carine grabbed the mittens her mother had made from her pocket. The line of people went to the left and right of her—where Miss Gretchen was serving up trays to her left, and Misha was pushing trays towards people to her right.
Carine grabbed Magda’s soft hands. “Here, let’s see if these will fit you.” Carine carefully slipped the mittens over Magda’s hands. They were only a tad too big, but would work well to keep her hands warm.
“How do they feel?” Carine asked, and she could see Magda’s eyes sparkling with moisture. “You can keep them if you’d like.”
“I— I— I love them. Thank you, dear. They feel great. So soft.”
“Here, I’ll help you take the tray to the table while your hands warm up.” Carine grabbed a tray and followed the tiny woman, who was rubbing her mittens together for warmth. Flynn was handing out trays next to Misha, and he smiled in approval and nodded at Carine as she walked by, having seen everything. Carine smiled back, feeling her chest swell up with warmth again.
****
“That was really nice, what you did.”
Carine nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t heard Flynn come into the break room. After eating lunch and catching up with Magda, Claude, and more of the Warmth of Winter guests, she decided to take a quick tea break alone.
“It was nothing,” she replied. She looked around nervously, wondering where Misha could be. “She needed them.”
Flynn sat down beside her and, for the first time, Carine noticed how great he smelled. He wasn’t wearing one of those overpowering teen body sprays, but a subtle cologne that smelled slightly spicy and sweet.
“I have to admit, I almost teared up,” he said, adding playfully, “Almost.”
Carine laughed.
“So, how old are you, Carine?” Flynn asked.
“I’ll be sixteen in August,” she replied. “How about you?”
“The same, but I’ll be sixteen in March. I just moved down here from Connecticut. Who decides to up and move during the holidays, right?”
“Right,” Carine said, enjoying the warm conversation, but nervous about it as well. What if Misha walked in and caught them chatting? Still, she couldn’t help herself. She was hypnotized by the way Flynn’s smile gave him a slight hint of dimples on his cheeks, and by the easygoing tone of his voice. So she continued. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve been coming to this kitchen every year. This is my fourth year here. I love it.”
She loved it, except for the part where Misha bossed her around and blackmailed her. But she left that p
art out.
“I could come every year too, especially if you’re here,” Flynn said, then he seemed to blush, as if he had said too much. He looked down at his hands, which he rested on the table. “I mean, I love helping people. I wonder why more people don’t volunteer.”
“Yeah…” Carine thought about that for a moment, then tensed up when she heard steps approaching. She stood up fast, making Flynn jump.
“I have to go,” she quickly said. The steps were getting nearer.
“Wait… I…” Flynn was struggling to speak. “Do you want to go out tonight?”
“I have to go,” Carine repeated and disappeared out of the door that led to the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear Misha greeting Flynn.
That was close, she thought, then pressed her back against a wall. She closed her eyes. Flynn had just asked her out, and she couldn’t say yes. She tried to stifle the resentment that was starting to grow deep inside of her for Misha. Carine liked Flynn, a lot, and he seemed interested in her too, but because of Misha, she wouldn’t be able to allow their attraction to lead anywhere. If she did, Misha would expose the secret of what Carine could do…
It’s not fair.
Chapter Four
Carine placed her hands into the soapy sink water. It was too cold, so she used her hands to warm it up. Once it was at a comfortably hot temperature, she submerged her arms in up to her elbows. The metal sink was so big that she had to bend forward to reach the trays stacked at the bottom.
She began to scrub away when someone shoved their arms in as well, making her cry out in surprise.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I love bubbles,” Flynn said, giving her that smile that always knocked her out.
Carine felt trapped. It was her duty to wash the trays before starting dinner, so she couldn’t walk away. She thought she could easily give that same excuse to Misha if she asked, so she laughed and splashed Flynn with some of the fluffy bubbles.
“Check this out,” Flynn said, placing a blob of bubbles on his nose, looking like he had a clown nose. “What if I did the dishes like this the whole time? You think anyone would notice?”
“Nah, not at all!” Carine laughed and blew the bubbles off his nose. They zoomed off his face then floated away lazily.
