by KL Hughes
She swooped down, plucked up a previously rolled snowball from their base, and hurled it like a pie right into his laughing face. He was so shocked that, for a moment, he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there, mouth gaping open and full of snow while Fiona dissolved into a fit of giggles. The revenge high was short-lived, however.
“Mutiny!”
Fiona frowned and turned toward Rosie, who held up her bullhorn and pointed it right at her. “We’ve got a mutiny!”
The three eliminated McElroys on the porch all jumped to their feet, throwing their hands up. “Mutiny!” Charlie hollered, pumping a fist in the air. “That hasn’t happened in years. Go, Fiona!”
“What?” Fiona looked at Michael. He wiped the snow from his face. “What does that mean?”
“A mutiny,” he said, shrugging. “It means you turned on your teammate, so now there’s nothing I can do.”
“Nothing you can do about what?”
“About protecting you. You committed mutiny, Fi. So now we’re enemies.”
“What? No! No, I was just playing.”
“Too bad, kid. You should’ve thought about that. You’re on your own now.”
They stared at each other, Fiona gaping and Michael grinning, the sudden twist in events sinking rapidly in. Then, at the same time, they both launched into action. Michael squatted and grabbed a snowball while Fiona took off as fast as her short legs could carry her. She screamed like a banshee with every crunching step.
“I didn’t know the rules,” she squeaked as she ducked just in time to miss the snowball whizzing overhead.
“Now you do.” Another snowball shot by her, nearly grazing her puffy shoulder, and she heard his shout behind her. “Ow!”
Fiona turned back just in time to see the snow sliding off the side of Michael’s face. He growled and threw down the rest of his arsenal as Rosie declared that he was officially out of the game. Fiona didn’t know who’d hit him, but she was grateful, because he wouldn’t be after her any longer. But that feeling lasted only about a second before the realization sank in: She had no one left to protect her. She didn’t even know who was still in the game.
“Okay.” She made it to the barn and slowed to a near crawl, crouched low, and inched along its side. “Grace and Sophie are on the porch,” she muttered to herself, “and Charlie. Now Michael. Okay, so that just leaves Brian, Jessie, and—” She edged around the back of the barn and collided with someone’s back. “Fuck,” she hissed as the person whirled around.
“Trying to sneak up on me, huh?” A snowball sat securely in Lizzie’s hand, and Fiona didn’t understand why it wasn’t already smashed against her own face. Instead, Lizzie simply held it and looked at her.
“No, I was just trying to get away from everyone else. I swear. Please don’t hit me in the face with that.” She nodded toward the snowball. “I mean, at least just throw it at my chest or something.”
Lizzie laughed, quiet, melodic. Her breath fogged out in front of her. “Where’s the fun in that?”
With a groan, Fiona closed her eyes and said, “I knew that wouldn’t work. Fine, go ahead. Do what you must.”
“Brian, you’re out!” The sound of Rosie’s voice cutting through the crisp air had Fiona opening her eyes again.
“Just the three of us now,” Lizzie said. “You, me, and my feral little sister.”
“Feral is an understatement.”
“True. She’s completely unhinged. It happens every Christmas. I don’t know. It’s like some kind of demon takes over, and suddenly she has an attention span that applies to something other than her phone. It’s miraculous and also highly disturbing.”
“It’s a little scary, yeah.” She calmed, the tension seeping from her body as a laugh worked its way up. She and Lizzie stood together comfortably, just looking at one another. Fiona didn’t know what was happening, but suddenly, it was like they were somewhere else entirely. The cold air wasn’t so cold anymore. It didn’t bite at her. In fact, she felt warm, and the longer Lizzie looked at her like that, like she was content to just hide away with her behind the barn all day, the warmer she became.
When Lizzie took a small step toward her, that warm air disappeared. All the oxygen in the world zapped out of the atmosphere, and Fiona was trapped in a breathless sort of suspension. She watched as Lizzie took another step, her toothy smile widening as she did. She reached up, startling her, but Fiona didn’t move as Lizzie’s fingers brushed over her face, just over her left eye.
“You’ve got snow on your forehead.”
Fiona’s lips parted, and words came out, much to her surprise. Her throat was a wasteland. “Yeah, I fell.”
“I saw.” Her hand lingered on Fiona’s face—her fingers sliding down, tracing the length from Fiona’s jaw to her chin—then finally fell. “It was pretty great.”
The spell was broken, and Fiona could breathe again. “Maybe for you. Not so much for me, though.”
The sound of fast, crunching footsteps jarred them both from the strange pull between them. Lizzie whipped around. Jessie had just rounded the back of the barn with a snowball at the ready, but Lizzie was faster. She sent her own snowball soaring before Jessie could launch hers. Her aim was true. The ball landed smack in the center of Jessie’s chest.
Fiona took her chance. While the other two were focused on one another, she sprang back around the side of the barn and took off running. She could hear Jessie shouting over her shoulder as she ran.
“That’s only one hit, Liz! I’m still in the game.”
“Not for long.”
Footsteps echoed around and behind Fiona, crunching, crunching, crunching. But she didn’t look back. She could only assume it was the sound of Jessie and Lizzie running away from one another, rather than one of them chasing her down. She could only hope.
“Run, Fi!” Michael screeched from the porch, dashing every ounce of hope Fiona had. She was being chased—by Jessie or Lizzie or both, she didn’t know. She figured it out a moment later when a heavy weight rammed into the back of her knees and sent her crashing to the ground.
“Gotcha!”
Fiona struggled to roll over, the weight of her coat and another body pressing her into the ground. She finally got herself turned, only to immediately have her hands pinned above her head.
“No tackling, Lizzie!” Rosie called from the sidelines.
Lizzie laughed. “I tripped!”
Staring up into Lizzie’s face was like a sudden bout of déjà vu. Fiona blew a strand of hair from her eyes. Her hat was gone, and the careful braid Michael had made for her had come entirely undone after being tousled about one too many times. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me,” she said with a grunt, then immediately regretted it. Heat spread through her chest, crawled up her neck, and pooled in her cheeks. She was shocked when the snow didn’t begin to melt beneath her.
Lizzie tightened her hold on Fiona’s wrists. “Maybe I do,” she said, then turned just as red as Fiona imagined herself to be.
They sat like that for what felt like ages, Fiona struggling against Lizzie’s grip and Lizzie adamantly refusing to budge.
“What is this? A staredown?” Brian yelled from the porch. “Somebody smack somebody with a snowball already. Let’s go, Liz. Finish her!”
Lizzie sat back, still on top of her, and relaxed. “Sorry,” she said, “but this is war.” She scooped up a handful of snow, rounded it out, and held it over her head. She winked down at Fiona. “Don’t worry. I’ll avoid that pretty face of yours.”
A cloud of white suddenly exploded at the back of Lizzie’s head, powder flying out around them in a cloud. She threw herself down, fully on top of Fiona. Their cheeks rubbed together, hot breath puffing against Fiona’s earlobe. “Wait here,” she growled as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world to ask someone to wait to be metaph
orically killed. Her hands dug into the ground for more snow. “My sister is a freaking pain in the ass.” The next second, she was on her feet, and the enticing warmth that had devoured Fiona’s every inch was gone.
Jessie howled with laughter as she stood across the yard from Lizzie, one snowball in her right hand and two in her left. “Told you I was still in the game,” she said. “Shoulda kept your eye out.”
“You think you’re so slick, don’t you?”
“Oh no. I don’t think it. I know it.”
“You and me, then. Showdown. You ready?”
“Was I born ready?” Jessie threw one tightly packed snowball up in the air and caught it. It remained perfectly intact. “Yup. Sure was.”
Fiona sat up to watch the showdown, the two youngest McElroy children standing twenty paces apart as if preparing for a good old-fashioned Wild West duel. Any second now, they would draw back. Any second now, they would fire, someone would be eliminated, and the game would be down to Fiona and whomever was left standing. The thought was enough to make Fiona want to burrow down into the snow like a tundra shrew and live out the rest of winter in hiding.
Unless…
As quietly as she could, she scraped together a handful of snow and formed it into a tight, firm ball. Slowly, she crawled to her knees, then her feet, trying to stir as little as possible so as not to alert either of the other two to her movement.
For the longest time, Lizzie and Jessie stood frozen and tense, staring each other down while Fiona lingered behind Lizzie, seemingly unnoticed. When they finally moved, it was as one. Both exploded into action as if prompted by some invisible, inaudible trigger, and Fiona was jarred into motion as well. She jerked her arm back as the other two did and launched the snowball, closing her eyes despite knowing she should keep them open. Proper aim was kind of dependent upon seeing the target, after all.
For a split second, the yard was silent. Only the sound of the cold breeze whistling through cracks in the barn’s exterior disturbed the quiet stillness. It was as if they were suspended in time, waiting, and Fiona could feel the collectively held breath around her.
The ringing “Ha!” that broke the air was followed quickly by a gasp that instantly drew Fiona’s eyes open. She was greeted with the shocked faces of her only two opponents: Jessie stood across the yard, a snowball still sliding off the thick material of her coat, just at her left shoulder; clearly, Lizzie’s aim had once again been true.
Jessie’s, however, had not; Lizzie didn’t have a speck of snow on the front of her body when she turned around to face Fiona. Her elbow, however, pointed up toward the gray sky as she reached to touch the back of her head, and a moment later, she revealed a handful of white. “You hit me,” she said as if in a stupor, and all Fiona could do was gawk at her.
The next second, the observing gallery on the back porch erupted, clearly as astonished as both Fiona and Lizzie by what had just occurred.
Michael leapt off the porch and dashed across the yard, a few of the others jogging behind him. He hurled himself onto Fiona, nearly knocking her to the ground, then picked her up and bounced her around as he repeated himself over and over again. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t believe you just did that. Oh my God. I can’t believe it.”
“Okay, we get it,” Jessie snapped as she marched toward the house, surrounded by cheers sent Fiona’s way and taunts sent hers. “You can’t believe it. Get over it already.”
“Oh, now, hon,” Charlie Sr. said as his youngest tramped onto the porch. “Don’t be that way. You know it’s just a game.”
“Whatever.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
“Jessie Lynn, you better stop being a sore loser,” Rosie barked through her bullhorn.
“Well, Mom, that’s just the only kind of loser I know how to be.” She trudged right by her father and disappeared through the front door.
“All right, well, while some of us are being Debbie Downers over the game,” Rosie announced, voice booming, “the rest of us are going to celebrate. For the first time in—”
“Ever!”
The collective shout of her children made Rosie laugh. She held the bullhorn back to her mouth. “For the first time in ever, yes, a McElroy has not come out on top in the annual Christmas snowball fight.”
“Yeah, so that means it shouldn’t count, right?” Lizzie stood as Jessie had, with her arms defiantly crossed. She wore a tight smile, though she kept her eyes downcast.
The others quickly wrapped their arms around her and ruffled the top of her head until her hat fell to the ground.
“It’s all right, Liz,” Charlie said, knuckling her neck so that she squirmed and tried to scoot away. “We won’t hold it against you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Brian said.
Lizzie shot him a glare. “Hold it against yourself, then. If you’d still been in the game, maybe you could’ve done something about it, but oh, wait, you weren’t in the game because you were out—because you completely sucked ass.”
“Elizabeth Dawn!”
Lizzie laughed and leaned into Charlie’s hug. She yanked Brian into the fold, hugging him as well. “I’ll get you back for that,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Fiona smiled as she watched the scene unfold. So this was what it was like to have siblings. She imagined them as kids, growing up in such close proximity, racing the same hallways, cycling through the same toys, learning by way of the same books and verbal cues, comforted by the same sounds and sights and aromas, and being swaddled in the same blankets by the same arms. It wasn’t something Fiona could relate to, and it left a pit in her stomach she recognized from her own childhood: the hollow cast of loneliness.
Lizzie was squashed between her siblings, but she managed to poke her head out enough to catch her breath. Her smile was as bright as the untouched parts of the frozen ground, and Fiona couldn’t look away from her. They caught each other’s gazes. Lizzie stuck her tongue out at Fiona as if to say it was all a silly game, no hard feelings, but there was a glint in her eye that gave her away. It spoke to the contrary, telling Fiona all she needed to know. Enjoy it while you can. I’m coming for you. At some point, Lizzie would get her revenge. Tackle her in the hallway when Fiona least expected. Leave her to wake up to a mustache and beard made of whipped cream. Fiona had seen countless movies showcasing pranks between siblings and friends. She could only imagine what Lizzie had in store for her, and it all sucked. Still, she couldn’t help grinning. She’d won, and damn, winning felt good.
She was nearly shocked off her feet when Lizzie’s arm suddenly shot forward and latched onto her coat. Fiona stumbled into the hoard of McElroys, smothered by their arms, and laughed. All the tension from earlier had gone, all the awkwardness dispelled, and in that moment, she was just another part of the family. Another McElroy.
“Right, Fi?”
Fiona blinked, only just realizing that Michael had spoken to her. “Huh?” She struggled to stick her head out from under Brian’s arm so she could see him. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“The cold starting to get to your head, or did you breathe in Brian’s armpit too long?”
“Hey. My pits are minty fresh, dude.”
“Sure, they are.” Michael looked back at Fiona. “I said, you’re gonna share your winnings with me, right?”
“Oh yeah. Winner takes all. I forgot.” She squeezed out of the pack and tried to brush her hair down with her hands. It was hopeless. “But you never told me what exactly I’m supposed to be taking.”
“Only the rarest, most precious trophy in all the world,” Brian said. “I’m so jealous right now, I could hate you. I’m trying really hard to like you anyway, though.”
“Wow. That’s quite the endorsement. So, what is this trophy? Can I see it?”
“See it?” Brian scoffed. “You’d better do more tha
n just look at it, or else, I will.”
Rosie walked over to the group. “You kids and that darn pie, I swear.”
“Pie?” Fiona’s brow shot up. “The trophy is a pie?”
“No, it’s not a pie,” Brian said.
Michael finished for him. “It’s the pie. Mom only makes it once a year. Once. And the only person who gets to eat any of it is the person who wins the snowball fight. And anyone they choose to share it with—hint hint.” He wagged his brows at her. “Just saying. You wouldn’t even be here, winning a pie, if I hadn’t brought you.”
“Hey,” Lizzie said. “Let’s also not forget that you wouldn’t be winning anything if I hadn’t so graciously offered my head as a target for you, okay? So, I mean, I think that deserves a little appreciation. Am I right?”
They all stared at her, then burst out laughing. “Sure, Lizzie,” Charlie said. “If that was the case, we’d all deserve pie.”
Lizzie tossed up her hands. “Well, maybe we do!”
“Come on.” Michael swooped down to hoist Fiona off the ground. “We can argue about pie later. Let’s get inside by the fire.”
Fiona slung her arms around Michael’s neck and held on. “Is this my victory lap?”
“Yup.” He jogged toward the house, carrying her bridal style. “You won us the war. That makes you the queen. Queens get carried, don’t they?”
“Ha! I don’t know, but I’m not complaining. I’m freezing.”
“Me, too.” Michael readjusted his hold on her as he took the stairs up the porch two at a time. Two big strides and they were at the door. “But now we can cozy up by the fire and gorge ourselves on pie.”
“Well, I can. I don’t know about you.”
“I will drop you.”
“What I meant to say was ‘Yeah, of course we can.’”
“That’s what I thought.”
