through my shoulder like a bolt of lightning. I felt Ezra’s grip on my arm, holding me, no, dangling me, my face scraping against a tag on the front of his coat.
“You okay?” his voice thundered in my ear.
My feet found solid ground and I stood, my shoulder screaming from being yanked, Ezra’s hand still squeezing my arm.
“I . . . ” Why was the world still spinning? Why was my face on fire?
“Get in.” This time Ezra dragged me to the passenger door, pushed me up into the front seat, and slammed the door.
I was too cold to breathe. I brought my arms to my chest. Hot air roared from the vents into my face, but I couldn’t feel the heat. I couldn’t feel anything. The car bounced as Ezra tossed in the bags, and I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed: Shut the door, shut the door, shut the door.
Finally, he slammed it, and I leaned forward, pushing my face right up to the vent.
“Holy crap,” Charly muttered through chattering teeth. “Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap.”
And then Ezra was there beside me in the driver’s seat, his face splotchy red, his eyelashes glittery with ice crystals. “You girls don’t pack light, do you?” He was shaking his hands like he was trying to knock the life back into them.
“Two bags each is light,” I said. “We’re going to be here for six months.”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me it isn’t this cold all the time,” I said.
“It isn’t.” He made his hands into fists and blew into the end of each. I tried it too, and it worked, at least for a second. The skin on my palms ached under my hot breath.
“It only gets this cold a couple of times a year. Yesterday it was all the way up around zero.”
Zero. It took a moment to register that he was talking in Celsius, and another moment to translate. Thirty-two Fahrenheit. “That’s warm ?”
“For January, yeah.”
“So it got this cold just for us.”
“Think of it as a welcome gift.”
I shivered and tucked my chin to my chest. This was hell. Hell. Why hadn’t we brought scarves and hats, and how long until the car warmed up?
I don’t belong here.
The weight of the thought was crushing. It was too late. I was here. I was stuck. I felt hollow, like my insides had been scraped out, leaving just a shell of skin. An empty walnut husk. I unclenched my fists and stared at my white, bloodless fingers.
“I wish it was snowing,” Charly said from the backseat.
“Of course you do,” I mumbled.
Ezra put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “It’s too cold to snow. But there’s plenty already on the ground.”
Too cold to snow? What did that even mean? Up ahead, where the covered drop-off lane ended, I could see it, a thick grey crust edging the road, hip high and rising into dirty-white mounds easily taller than me. We were walled in by snowbanks.
“Is it always grey like that?” Charly asked.
“No, it’s just muddy from the road. Wait, you’ve never seen snow before?”
“Only on TV,” I said.
“And from a window at the Chicago airport,” Charly added.
Ezra laughed, then realized we weren’t joking. “Seriously?”
“You’d be surprised how infrequently it snows in Florida.”
“Yeah, but . . . ” He rubbed his hands together, then blew into his fists again while he steered the car with his knees. I knew what he was thinking. We were a couple of hicks who’d never been more than ten miles from home. And if he knew about Charly’s condition , then he thought we were a couple of trashy hicks who’d never been more than ten miles from home. At least we weren’t the ones with homeless-man hair.
“Do you need help steering?” I asked. Freezing to death while I waited for an ambulance seemed like a bad way to go.
“No. The wheel feels like ice, but it’ll warm up in a few minutes.”
“Charly, give the guy his gloves back.”
She tossed them up and he put them on. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, is it okay with you guys if we do a drive-thru for some
“You okay?” his voice thundered in my ear.
My feet found solid ground and I stood, my shoulder screaming from being yanked, Ezra’s hand still squeezing my arm.
“I . . . ” Why was the world still spinning? Why was my face on fire?
“Get in.” This time Ezra dragged me to the passenger door, pushed me up into the front seat, and slammed the door.
I was too cold to breathe. I brought my arms to my chest. Hot air roared from the vents into my face, but I couldn’t feel the heat. I couldn’t feel anything. The car bounced as Ezra tossed in the bags, and I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed: Shut the door, shut the door, shut the door.
Finally, he slammed it, and I leaned forward, pushing my face right up to the vent.
“Holy crap,” Charly muttered through chattering teeth. “Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap.”
And then Ezra was there beside me in the driver’s seat, his face splotchy red, his eyelashes glittery with ice crystals. “You girls don’t pack light, do you?” He was shaking his hands like he was trying to knock the life back into them.
“Two bags each is light,” I said. “We’re going to be here for six months.”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me it isn’t this cold all the time,” I said.
“It isn’t.” He made his hands into fists and blew into the end of each. I tried it too, and it worked, at least for a second. The skin on my palms ached under my hot breath.
“It only gets this cold a couple of times a year. Yesterday it was all the way up around zero.”
Zero. It took a moment to register that he was talking in Celsius, and another moment to translate. Thirty-two Fahrenheit. “That’s warm ?”
“For January, yeah.”
“So it got this cold just for us.”
“Think of it as a welcome gift.”
I shivered and tucked my chin to my chest. This was hell. Hell. Why hadn’t we brought scarves and hats, and how long until the car warmed up?
I don’t belong here.
The weight of the thought was crushing. It was too late. I was here. I was stuck. I felt hollow, like my insides had been scraped out, leaving just a shell of skin. An empty walnut husk. I unclenched my fists and stared at my white, bloodless fingers.
“I wish it was snowing,” Charly said from the backseat.
“Of course you do,” I mumbled.
Ezra put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “It’s too cold to snow. But there’s plenty already on the ground.”
Too cold to snow? What did that even mean? Up ahead, where the covered drop-off lane ended, I could see it, a thick grey crust edging the road, hip high and rising into dirty-white mounds easily taller than me. We were walled in by snowbanks.
“Is it always grey like that?” Charly asked.
“No, it’s just muddy from the road. Wait, you’ve never seen snow before?”
“Only on TV,” I said.
“And from a window at the Chicago airport,” Charly added.
Ezra laughed, then realized we weren’t joking. “Seriously?”
“You’d be surprised how infrequently it snows in Florida.”
“Yeah, but . . . ” He rubbed his hands together, then blew into his fists again while he steered the car with his knees. I knew what he was thinking. We were a couple of hicks who’d never been more than ten miles from home. And if he knew about Charly’s condition , then he thought we were a couple of trashy hicks who’d never been more than ten miles from home. At least we weren’t the ones with homeless-man hair.
“Do you need help steering?” I asked. Freezing to death while I waited for an ambulance seemed like a bad way to go.
“No. The wheel feels like ice, but it’ll warm up in a few minutes.”
“Charly, give the guy his gloves back.”
She tossed them up and he put them on. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, is it okay with you guys if we do a drive-thru for some
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