Page 37 of Light Up
The man chortled. “Right sort.”
“You know where the idea of right and wrong sort of snow comes from?” Corey asked Tal.
“The rail companies excuse when the network was disrupted by fine, powdery snow unlike the wet snow we usually get.” Tal could have gone on to describe how the fine snow had been sucked into train motors causing short circuits, had been packed into doors and points but he thought how Dorian had said he was boring and kept quiet.
They picked up equipment from a builder’s bag at the front of the area: buckets, plastic shovels, old kitchen utensils, plastic knives, paint scrapers, and a few circular plastic bowls.
“Think big,” Corey said. “Think enormous. The more enormous the better. Polar bears can be three metres tall if they stand on their hind legs. So aim for life-size.”
“And all you’re going to make is a snowball?”
“I can try and make a polar bear but you’re not to laugh if it looks like a snowball. And smile, don’t sigh.”
Tal smiled. “Our bears will be lying down. We need a large pile of snow to pack down to make it dense enough to shape. Let’s work right at the back of the marked-out zone. We’ll have access to more snow from behind if we need it.”
It didn’t take long to build up a pile. Corey was working at speed, scooping snow into a bucket and launching it into the centre of their area, though it was also reaching the area next to them which was currently unused. Tal turned to tell Corey to slow down, and a bucketful of snow hit his face.
“Shit! Sorry!” Corey stepped over to him, pulled off a glove and wiped the snow from Tal’s mouth and cheeks and…
Tal swallowed hard. Far from wanting to pull back, he found himself leaning into Corey’s touch, just for a moment, but…
“I’m really sorry,” Corey repeated.
“You don’t look sorry.”
Corey tugged his glove back on. “I am. I’m filled with remorse. I might never recover. Scarred for life. Though you did step in front of my throw.”
“Hmm. You’ve no sense of direction.”
“I know. It’s sad. Now can I hug you?”
“No.”
“Want to ask me to hug you?”
“No.”
Corey just chuckled.
Tal joined Corey in collecting snow by the bucket. It was more efficient than shovelling it. It was also harder work than it looked.
“Enough yet?” Corey asked every few minutes.
“No.”
Then Tal found himself covered in another load of snow.
When Corey called, “Oops,” Tal strode over, picked him up and threw him on top of the pile. Corey mock-whimpered.
“While you’re down there, compress it,” Tal said. “Roll on it. Stamp on it. Squash it.”
“I’ll give it a hug. It knows a good thing when it feels it. It won’t say no.”
While Corey was rolling, wriggling and quietly moaning ridiculous endearments like “You are so cute. I love to squash you. Do you like me squashing you? I give the best hugs,” Tal threw more snow on top of him.
“Help! Are you trying to cover me?”
“Yes, stay buried, why don’t you!”
