Winter
It snows overnight.
Not enough for a snow day, but enough to make the world feel muffled.
The quad is covered in powder. Everyone’s in puffy coats and bad boots. Salt lines the stairs. Van’s throwing snowballs at freshmen. Tai slips on ice and calls the pavement a “traitorous bitch.” The sky stays low and gray, like it doesn’t want to commit to anything.
Jackie sees Shauna at the end of the day, standing under the awning outside the gym, her hands shoved in the pockets of her parka. No Lottie in sight.
For a second, Jackie considers turning the other way.
She doesn’t.
⸻
They start walking home at the same time, unspoken.
Shauna doesn’t look surprised. Doesn’t look at her at all, really. Just kicks at the snow with the toe of her boot until her foot goes through to the concrete.
Jackie walks beside her.
Two feet of space between them.
The kind of quiet that doesn’t feel new.
The kind of quiet that remembers things.
⸻
They pass the little church with the flickering nativity lights. A snowman half-collapsed in someone’s yard. A stop sign with a mitten dangling from it like a ghost.
Shauna’s breath clouds the air. She looks pink-cheeked and flushed from the cold. Her flannel peeks out from under her coat. There’s a bit of salt on the cuff. Jackie notices, of course.
Shauna breaks the silence. “You still make gingerbread houses with your mom?”
Jackie nods. “Only so I can eat the roof.”
Shauna smiles—small, like a secret.
They keep walking.
⸻
A car passes. Slush sprays the curb.
Jackie doesn’t flinch, but Shauna steps slightly closer without thinking.
They’re side by side now. Closer than they meant to be.
Their arms almost brush.
Jackie feels the heat of it through her sleeve. Stupid. Immediate. Sharp.
Shauna exhales. “You gonna say what’s on your mind?”
Jackie says, “I like your coat.”
Shauna huffs a laugh. “It’s yours.”
Jackie looks at her.
Shauna doesn’t look back.
The walk continues.
Nothing changes.
Everything shifts.