Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  Jack was panting laboriously for breath still; he didn’t even notice. His cheeks and nose were red.

  “How are you gonna get another snowball on top of the one you already have, Jack?” Alice asked.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead, Alice. I was just thinking of how to lift up the next snowball when you came along.”

  “Well,” Alice said. “Looks like I got here just in time.”

  “You’ve always had fabulous timing, Juliet.”

  “You’re making me blush!”

  “I thought that was just the cold,” Jack said.

  “My cheeks are warm from blushing, Jack. That’s not the cold.”

  “Hee-hee,” Jack said. “Whattaya say, Alice? We’ll finish this part of the snowman, and then we’ll do the other.”

  “Sounds great!”

  They began by pushing the heavy snowball Jack had been laboring over for the last hour. Jack wanted to make the biggest snowman he could. They pushed and pushed until they couldn’t push anymore. The huge snowball was to the right of the large window, near the edge of the house. They started rolling another ball of snow together, pushing and rolling, making long, circular trails throughout the yard. After this ball was big enough, they rolled it over to the other. Using their leverage, they were able to lift and roll it up on top of the larger snowball at the same time. They made the head after this chore was completed, fitting it snugly into place, much smaller, lighter, and easier to lift. Jack and Alice had to reach high up on their tiptoes to fit the head into place.

  “Ooomph!” Jack said, when they finished. He was panting heavily again and sweating under his clothes. “I should quit smoking.”

  Alice giggled. “You don’t smoke, Jack.”

  “I’m thinking of taking it up. Dad smokes a pipe sometimes after dinner, and he looks so cool when he does it. The smoke goes up and round and round his head. And I like the smell.”

  “Jack,” Alice said. “Please don’t smoke. It’s a disgusting habit. It turns your teeth yellow, and makes you stink. Please don’t start smoking.”

  “But I want to look cool like Dad.”

  “You don’t have to smoke to look cool, Jack. You’re cool without smoking.”

  “Thank you, Alice. I knew I liked you for a reason. But maybe you could smoke with me. We can start together. That way we can both smoke and look cool. We’ll be the envy of everyone in school!”

  “Yuck!” Alice said. “I’m not smoking!”

  “Alice, please!” Jack said.

  “No. Now stop talking about smoking. It’s not good for you.”

  “Alice?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “What’s with you, Jack?”

  “I don’t know, Alice. I just love this time of year. It makes me feel all giddy inside. I feel like a schoolboy!”

  “You are a schoolboy!” Alice said, laughing.

  “That explains it, then. Come on, all this talk isn’t going to bring the snowman to life. Frosty’s waiting!”

  “Well, mostly, he’s already put together. He just needs a face, maybe a vest or something, and some arms.”

  “I wonder how Frosty feels being naked all the time,” Jack said, looking at the snowman.

  “Jack!” Alice said, blushing. Though, in the cold, you’d never know it.

  “Well, he is!” Jack said, pointing. “Look. He’ll catch a chill!”

  “Jack! He’s a snowman!” Alice said.

  “Right you are, dear Alice,” Jack said. “But even a snowman should have a little dignity, don’t you think?”

  Alice laughed at this, and Jack smiled.

  “Wait right here, beautiful Alice,” Jack said. “I have an idea.”

  Alice waited in the yard, while Jack tromped through the snow to the front door. He stomped his boots on the porch, opened the door, and stepped inside. Alice stood in the snow, smiling to herself, and thought about Jack. Since Halloween and the pumpkin carving contest, he seemed more child-like than ever. She realized how much she cared about him, wanted their friendship to last forever. She didn’t want anything to change. Hadn’t she already thought of that before, though, talked about it with Jack? Why was she concerned about this so much lately, she wondered? Jack was simply an angelic boy—not because he tried to be. It was just the way he was. She’d never met anyone like him. There were times when Jack’s character rubbed off on her, and vice-versa, Alice supposed. She didn’t think she’d feel this way if not for Jack, certainly not on her own. After all, without her, would he not be excelling in school the way he was? And he did love her. His bout with Tork McGuckin had proved it. And not every boy would allow pink lasers to fly through space when the bad guys were closing in. Their friendship was about more than that. Alice would do anything for Jack, she realized, just as he’d do anything for her.

  For Alice, these thoughts, even to her, seemed strange. Maybe they were teaching each other something without realizing it, and again, she realized she’d had this thought before. Their lives, without the other, would not be so utterly complete—so perfect, Alice thought.

  She was smiling when Jack emerged from the house, carrying the top hat his father had made him for Halloween. A bright orange carrot, broken in half, was in his other hand.

  “He’ll be getting the sniffles for sure with a nose this size,” Jack size. “Look how big this carrot is, Alice! I couldn’t find any clothes big enough for Frosty. He’d look good in a vest, though, like you said, I think, but he’ll just have to go naked.”

  Alice giggled. “Jack, I love you.”

  This stopped Jack dead in his tracks. A serious look crossed his face, and his blue eyes widened. A huge smile spread across his face. This wasn’t the cold either, but Jack was blushing now, too. He trembled a little and stammered over his words:

  “I…uh…gee…thanks, Alice. I love you, too.” Jack blushed a deeper shade of red.

  “Come on,” Alice said. “Let’s bring Frosty to life! What should we use for his eyes and mouth?”

  “I got it!” Jack suddenly exclaimed. He handed the carrot and top hat to Alice, and ran around the side of the house to the backyard. He slipped and fell, falling face first in the snow. “Ooomph!” he said.

  “Jack? Are you all right?”

  Jack got up quickly, turned to wave to Alice, snow coating his entire front, undaunted.

  Alice stood again, smiling, holding the top hat and the carrot. Jack emerged again from around the corner, holding something in his gloves. He was carrying charcoal briquettes. There must be a bag of Kingsford in the back, Alice thought.

  “Eyes and mouth,” Jack said. “Here. You do the eyeballs, and I’ll do the mouth-ball.” He handed two briquettes to Alice.

  “What’s a mouth-ball?” Alice said.

  “I was trying to make poetry,” Jack said.

  “You’re weird, Jack,” Alice said.

  “Thank you, Alice,” Jack said.

  Together they put the face together, five pieces of charcoal to make up the mouth while Alice did the eyes.

  “Now, you plop in the nose,” Jack said.

  Alice reached up and stabbed the carrot—like a knife—into Frosty’s face where the nose should be. The end was a perfectly orange blunt circle instead of a point. Alice was slightly taller than Jack, so she situated the hat on top of Frosty’s head, not directly, but more to the side at an angle to give Frosty character.

  “Maybe he’ll come to life now,” Jack said. He stood and waited, as if expecting that very thing, but Frosty was just a snowman, and all he did was stand there and smile with his carrot nose.

  “He looks kinda scary to me, Jack,” Alice said. “I think the charcoal looks more like teeth than a mouth.”

  “So, what’s wrong with that?”

  “I’m just saying. He’s like a Halloween snowman.”

  “You’re sucking the joy right out of the moment, Alice.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

&
nbsp; Jack stood and stared silently at Frosty for a long time. He was motionless, frowned, and cocked his head.

  “Jack, what’s wrong?”

  “He’s not coming to life!”

  “It’s not a magic hat, Jack,” Alice said, simply.

  “It is, too! Dad made it! It has to be magic!”

  This phrase almost broke Alice’s heart, because Jack genuinely believed Frosty would start moving and talking as snowflakes encircled his head and shoulders. Did Jack really believe the snowman would come to life by a simple hat spray-painted black?

  “He moved!” Jacked said, pointing at Frosty.

  “Did not!” Alice said.

  “He moved, Alice! He moved! I saw him move!”

  “Jack!”

  “Frosty just winked at you, Alice!”

  “Jack, he did not!”

  “He winked at you, Alice! He winked at you! And there was hunger in his eyes! The whole town’s in jeopardy! We’re all gonna be wiggle-biggle-toasty-fries-and melon-gellon-bacon burgers! Ahhhh!” Jack threw his hands into the air and ran around the snowman as dramatically as he could.

  “Jack,” Alice said, helplessly, and bent over, holding her stomach, she was laughing so hard. Tears streamed down her face.

  “AHHHH!” Jack continued to scream in fright. His arms were still up over his head, and he was still running—or clomping in circles—around Frosty, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “We’ve created a monster!” Jack shouted. “It’s Franken-Frosty!”

  Alice laughed hysterically as Jack continued his theatrical display. Nothing could convince him otherwise.

  “Change his mouth, Jack!” Alice said. “Shift the eyes! He won’t look so scary then!”

  “Are you crazy?” Jack said, stopping in mid-flight, and lowering his arms.

  “What does that have to do with being crazy?” Alice ventured.

  “He could bite me!”

  “Well, yes,” Alice said. “I did say his mouth looked like teeth, didn’t I?”

  “Ahhh!” Jack screamed, throwing his hands into the air, and running in circles around the snowman again.

  Alice doubled over with laughter. Jack tripped in the snow, falling face first into the soft white powder. “Ooomph!” he said, again, for the third time that day.

  Alice went to Jack immediately and knelt by him. “Jack? Are you all right?” Alice helped Jack roll over, but his eyes were closed. “Jack?”

  “Kiss me, Alice!”

  “No!”

  “Ugh!” he said. “Defeated by the ladies.”

  “You bring it on yourself, Jack,” Alice said, sounding very mature. “And here you are again, wounded once more, in your own little adventures. When are you gonna learn?”

  “Whatever I have to do, Alice! Whatever I have to do, until you kiss me!”

  “You’ll be waiting a long time, Jacky-boy,” Alice said.

  “Oh, I know it will be worth it, dear Alice,” Jack said. “Til the end of time, if that’s what it takes!”

  *

  Jack emptied two cardboard boxes from the attic and brought them downstairs and outside. The snow was falling again, noon progressing into afternoon, though you’d never know it by the lack of sun. Jack suggested they build walls with bricks of snow to have a snowball fight with Frosty as referee. There was, after all, plenty of snow. The dark day made the Christmas lights and the tree in the window burn brighter, continuing to add a sense of warmth to the tiny cottage and yard.

  “Here, Alice,” Jack said, handing her one of the boxes. “You build yours over there by Frosty, and I’ll build mine over here. Are you sure you can throw a snowball that far?”

  “Don’t get cute, Jack, or I’ll pound you,” Alice said, holding a lime green fist in the air.

  “Easy. I was only joshing.”

  Alice began building her fortress in front and just to the right of Frosty. Jack built his directly opposite. Now, Frosty was not in the way so much, and he was, like Jack said, more a referee, standing between the two flags.

  “Frosty can keep score, Alice,” Jack said.

  “How’s he gonna do that, Jack?” Alice said, fitting a block of snow into place with the cardboard box.

  “We’ll put a sign in each hand,” Jack said. “A pink one for you, and a blue one for me. I’m determined to see Frosty come to life.”

  Alice chuckled, sniffled, and ran her glove across her runny nose. “I don’t understand.”

  “Whenever one of us makes a hit, Frosty will hold up the appropriate sign. I thought it was obvious.”

  “It is now,” Alice said, rolling her eyes. Sometimes Jack could act a little overboard, she thought. But she couldn’t resist, so she asked, shoveling snow into her box: “He doesn’t have any hands, Jack. How’s he supposed to hold up a sign?”

  “You have to use your imagination, Alice,” Jack said. He was finishing up his first row of blocks and working on the second row now. “Frosty needs our help, too.”

  Alice grinned to herself. Sometimes Jack seemed younger than his ten-years. But his lack of maturity was charming. He was fresh, new, and innocent in ways she’d never seen in another boy, yet Jack’s naiveté was a strength. Innocence held power. Jack wasn’t naïve so much, Alice thought, as he simply believed in the impossible. Jack dreamed.

  “Since you put it that way, Jack,” Alice said. “Of course, I understand.”

  They continued to build their fortresses, setting blocks into place, packing the snow into the cardboard boxes, and Jack looked up and asked: “How’s yours coming, Alice?”

  “Splendid, Jack,” she said. “Mine is an unstoppable barrier, a fortress of power and strength. Nothing can defeat it. You don’t stand a chance.”

  “I’ve never seen you so cocky before. What’s got into you?”

  “The act of war.”

  “It’s gonna be a pleasure humbling you,” Jack said, and laughed to himself, fitting another block into place.

  Soon, the war was about to begin. The barriers were up, roughly three to four feet high, just enough to crouch behind and hide when the snowballs sailed. Jack and Alice took their time once the barriers were finished, making snowballs, a small mound of ammunition to hurl at one another. Alice had built a daunting arsenal, thinking of what it would take to destroy Jack’s barrier.

  “Aren’t you ready, yet?” Jack called across the yard.

  “No,” Alice shouted back. “I want everything just right!”

  “Girls,” Jack said. He hid behind his wall, packing snowball after countless snowball. A pile of them grew steadily larger beside him.

  “Now?” Jack called after several more minutes. He peaked over the wall, snowball in hand, to see if Alice was in sight. The snow was falling heavily once again from the sky. The colored lights from the house and the tree turned patches of snow different colors, making rainbow patches in the yard. Jack was taking note of all this when a snowball drilled him directly in the face. It surprised more than hurt him. He fell back into the snow and dropped the snowball he’d been holding. Snow clogged his nose, mouth, and eyelashes. Jack made his fourth “Oomph!” of the day. He shook his head, wiping snow off his face with a gloved hand and heard Alice chuckling from her side of the yard.

  “Cheater!” Jack shouted. Cold numbed his face. Alice was laughing hysterically. Jack grabbed the snowball he’d dropped, peaked over the wall, and threw it as hard as he could. It collided harmlessly into Alice’s barrier.

  “You didn’t wait for Frosty to hold up the green flag!” he shouted.

  “Poo on your flags, Jacky-boy! Prepare for assault!” Alice threw another snowball, which only missed Jack by inches.

  “Alice,” Jack said. “Where did you learn how to throw?”

  “Dad’s a Curt Schilling fan. We used to practice pitching in the back yard. How does it feel to be outsmarted by a girl?”

  “Oh, that does it!” Jack said, and smiled to himself. “Incoming!” he shouted. Jack stood in plain sight with s
nowballs cradled in his left arm. One by one, he hurled them at Alice and her fortress. Jack had never pitched to his dad in the backyard, so many of them sailed wide, sailed high, or missed altogether. All Jack got was lower on snowballs and a pained shoulder. Still, Alice played along, managing to scream in perfect, high drama, and she disappeared behind the wall, flat on her stomach, or so Jack presumed. Some of Jack’s snowballs hit the wall, where they simply exploded. None hit their mark, which was mainly Alice. Jack imagined her with her hands on her head, lying face down in a foxhole.

  “Everybody down!” Alice shouted.

  Snowballs sailed high through the air.

  Jack ducked behind his wall and packed more snowballs together. He was breathing heavily. His shoulder was sore. He’d have to be careful, and the war had only just begun.

  “Gosh-darn, good-for-nothing, cooty-ridden, lying, cheating, sticking, not-playing-fair-girls,” Jack mumbled to himself.

  He stood up, another armload of snowballs ready. Once more, he hurled them at Alice—this time—with more accuracy. In plain sight, Alice, also, stood up. The two of them faced each other across the yard, mischievous grins on their faces, panting heavily. In seconds, they began to bombard one another. Jack’s snowballs sailed—barely missing Alice or exploding into the wall—and Alice hit her mark every time, her aim rapid and true. Two snowballs hit Jack directly in the chest. One nicked his ear. Another hit him directly in the face, sending him sprawling. Jack muttered a frustrated, “Ahhh!” and wiped snow from his face.

  “Oh, Jack!” Alice called. “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride, Alice!”

  “That’s what I was aiming for!”

  “Rotten, good-for-nothing, know-it-all, pimple-faced-girls,” Jack mumbled again, more determined than ever. In all aspects, he was being defeated, pummeled, brandished, whipped, and destroyed in every sense of the word. Still, adrenaline pumped excitedly through his veins. He imagined himself with a cape, a large SJ sprawled across his chest for Super Jack. He peeked over and saw the bright green hat clearly visible on the other side of Alice’s wall. No doubt, she was making more snowballs. Jack giggled to himself, reached for his supply, and decided on a new strategy. Grabbing the snowballs, he thought about the distance between his fortress and hers, the weight of each ball, the trajectory of flight. One by one, he launched them into the air. They sailed high, then plummeted directly behind Alice’s wall. Several mortal-like snowballs found their target, and Alice, like a good sport, shouted: “I’m hit!”