8
The darkened street called to the mischievous winter spirit as he flew above. His brown cloak flew behind him in the wind. From below he could hear the people hiding from his masterpiece. "All this beautiful ice and frost and everyone is hiding from it." A scrawny boy trudged through the snow with his arms wrapped around his small frame. "People don't normally stay out this late in this weather." The white haired teen noted, landing silently on the street in front of the boy. "Where're you going?" he asked with a grin to the boy. When the boy walked through him the teen turned to see him wrap his arms tighter around himself. "It was nice chilling with you." The pale teen said to himself. After the first hundred years he'd gotten used to no one seeing him, so naturally he wasn't surprised that this child was any different.
The spirit summoned a light breeze to carry him to the lake in the woods. The lake was frozen like it always was in winter. Trees surrounded the lake that were coated in thick layers of ice, they had grown together to create a magnificent ice palace. The full moon cast it's bright glow over the lake, giving the snow a pale blue color and the ice in the trees a sparkling crystal appearance. Looking up at the moon he asked it again the question that had been bothering him ever since his first night at the lake. "Tomorrow will be the three hundredth year I've been here. Could you help me by letting me know why I'm here?" a deadly silence followed, only barely broken by the quiet voice of Manny, the man in the moon.
"You are Jack Frost." Manny whispered.
Frustrated that Manny gave him the same answer he always gave Jack, he gathered a snowball and threw it at the annoying moon. Of course it didn't get anywhere near Manny, but it did arc up over the trees to hit a car just on the other side. The car's alarm split through the silence of the night.
"I know that! Don't you think I know that already?!" he hollered at the glowing sphere that seemed to mock him.
"You are Jack Frost." The moon repeated calmly.
Jack's frustration level grew even higher, causing dark clouds to cover the moon like a heavy blanket.
"Just leave me alone, alright? I've had enough of you."
Jumping into a nearby tree Jack rested his back against the trunk. Tendrils of frost crept out from where he touched the tree. His eyes drifted shut quickly as he stared up at the snow falling almost silently on the ground.
Sounds of children playing woke Jack from a sleep filled with the memories of his first night as Jack Frost. With a gasp, he bolted upright and fell off his tree branch, landing in a snow bank below. Shaking the snow from his hair, he found the children who had woken him. Six kids were running through the deep snow that reached their knees. With ice skates thrown over their shoulders, the children made their way to the frozen lake. Jack stood and leaned against his tree to watch as the small group sat on the ice, laced their skates, and struggled to stand on the narrow blades. Their arms were flailing all over to try to help keep their balance before falling down and laughing.
"Heh, let me help you." Jack chuckled when he jumped to the lake. Summoning a light breeze to help push them forward, Jack ran around on the ice from person to person until something caught his attention.
Barely poking out from behind a tree was the scrawny boy from the night before. In the brighter light he could see the worn, red coat he wore with pants that had seen better days, and shoes with holes in them.
"I know you. We met last night." Jack said to himself about the boy. The boy's eyes looked longingly at the children playing. The pale blue eyes of the observing boy stopped for a brief moment when they passed over Jack, then resumed their observing. Jack flew over to the boy who jumped slightly at his appearance.
"That's a first." Jack commented aloud. The boy looked over to where Jack's voice came from, his pale eyes once again searching. "Huh?" curiosity perked, Jack's interest in this lonely boy increased. "Don't tell me you can hear me, much less see me." The boy barely nodded at him. "So why'd you ignore me last night?" the boy shrugged slightly in response. "Can you see me?" the boy raised a pale hand and tipped it from one side to the other, letting Jack know it was only so-so.
"You're a shadow." The boy quietly whispered.
"So you can talk." Jack teased playfully. The boy tucked his chin into the collar of his coat. "Do you have a name?" he nodded. "Can you tell me, or do I get to pick one for you?"
With eyes staring at the snow, he answered so quietly it was barely audible. "Peter."
"Peter?" Jack asked to confirm he heard correctly. The boy nodded. "So Peter, why aren't you playing with everyone else?"
"I can't."
"Why can't you?"
"They don't like me."
"Why don't they like you?" a shrug was his only answer. Jack sighed as he ran a hand through his white hair. "You're not much for conversation, are you?" Peter shook his head slightly.
"Hey, Peter's over there talking to himself; he really is a freak." One boy who was playing shouted to the others who stopped to look at Peter who had jumped and hidden even more behind the tree.
"Why do they think you're a freak?" Jack asked while looking towards the other children.
"It's because I don't live in the same area as them and I see things they can't." Peter answered while burying his face into the bark of the tree and gripping the bark with white fingers.
Jack understood quickly what the boy meant. He himself wasn't exactly normal in the standard sense of the word. Snowballs started flying in Peter's direction. As quickly as he could, Peter ran back to town, away from the flying balls of snow.
Jack watched as the children chased away the best conversationalist he'd met in his years of being around. With his anger at the kids building, the air cooled by several degrees and a cold wind picked up.
"It's freezing!" the kids dropped their snowballs so they could run home to the safety from Jack's winter wind.
Jack found himself once again flying over the frozen, darkened town. The sun had set early that day, so he was left in the dim lighting of the streetlights. Curious, he began looking for Peter. No one was on the street this time, meaning Peter had gone home to the safety from Jack's harsh winter. With a heavy sigh, he dropped to the sidewalk to begin heading to the lake for some sleep. He walked past windows casting warm glows, from the windows and smoke creeping out the chimneys, the sounds of evening television programs could be heard from the icy sidewalk. One sound sliced through the others like a sharp knife through warm butter. It was the sound of someone crying into their arms. Jack followed the muffled sounds until he found their source; it was Peter, he was crouched in an alley with his knees pulled to his chest. His arms were wrapped around his legs and his head was shoved into the worn, red material of his coat.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Jack asked quietly as he crouched down in front of Peter. The boy raised his head quickly, startled at the sudden voice. Peter dropped his head back into his damp arms without a word. "Hey, can you tell me what's wrong?" Jack asked, trying to see Peter's hidden face. Peter slowly raised his head to look at Jack whose concern was visible; his dark hair fell into his face, covering his wet eyes.
"No." he barely managed to whisper through his suppressed sobs.
"Why not?" Jack moved to sit next to his companion.
"Grandfather would be mad." He stated simply.
"Alright, but what if he never found out?" Peter's head turned to Jack's with a shake to clear some hair from in front of his eyes. "I promise I won't tell him. And even if I did, he wouldn't hear me say anything."
Peter was silent for a minute while he contemplated what Jack was saying. "He didn't believe me when I told him about you, and how none of the other kids could see you. Then when he told me you weren't there and I kept telling him you were real and there he yelled at me and hit me. He yelled at me for telling lies, you are there aren't you?"
Jack nodded, "Yeah, I'm here, been here for three hundred years."
Peter's eyes grew a bit wider. "You don't sound very old."
"Heh, that's because I'm stuck at seventeen."
Peter's eyes widened even more. "How?!"
Jack sighed, "I honestly have no idea. One day many, many years ago I rose up from the lake in the woods in the middle of winter. It was cold, and the only light was from the moon shining above. That's all I know."
"So you've never even wondered about it?" Peter inquired, much calmer now.
"If it were you, would you just let it be? Or would you want to know who you are, where you came from, if you even had a family or not?"
Peter looked up at the dark sky, "I wouldn't want to remember my family. My parents aren't around, so I live with my grandfather who drinks and gets violent. I used to have an older brother, but he left for college a few years ago and I haven't heard from him since." He let out a heavy sigh, like he'd been holding in those thoughts for years with no one to share them with. "The only things I have to remember him by are a photo and a blue hoodie he wore occasionally."
"But you have memories of him, don't you? Jack asked him.
"Kind of, but not many. He would barely ever come home if he could help it." Jack simply nodded.
"So, feeling better?" Jack asked after a few minutes of silence, his eyes shifting over towards Peter who wiped his eyes and nodded with a shadow of a smile.
Jack stood and waited for his companion to stand. Peter stood on shaky legs that buckled, causing him to stumble into Jack who waited for him to fall through him. When Peter fell towards Jack he fell on him, causing them both to tumble on the ground.
"Ah!" Jack let out a startled cry before his head met the frozen concrete. The world went black and faded away quickly.
"-ack? Jack?" a muffled voice called through a hazy fog. "Jack, are you alright?" the voice became clearer as Jack opened his eyes a crack. Worn, wooden beams were overhead, and a bare bulb hung from the ceiling.
"My head hurts, why does my head hurt?" Jack asked absently as he rubbed the back of his head. "What?!" he asked startled when he noticed his shirt was missing, a blanket had been placed over him.
An old man entered the room carrying a cup of steaming liquid. He handed the cup to Jack, who was more confused and lost than he'd ever been. "You're lucky the little rat found you. He ain't good for much, and he's a damned liar the rest of the time." His voice grumbled. "You were half frozen out there in that old-time stuff you had on, and what the hell were you doing going out barefoot in this weather?"
"Uh," Jack had no idea how to respond to that. "what?"
The old man's eyes widened in anger. "What do you mean 'what?' you were out in the freezing cold barefoot with no warm clothes." Jack looked pleadingly at Peter for some information on what was going on.
"He hit his head grandfather." Peter whispered. The old man grumbled and left the room.
"Peter, how can he see me? What am I doing here? And where are my clothes?!"
Peter looked away nervously, "When I fell, I landed on you and I think you passed out. I tried to wake you, but you never responded. You've been out for several hours."
"OK, but how can he see me and again, where are my clothes?!"
Peter flinched at Jack's raised voice. "I think something happened when I fell on you. You were just a shadow before, but now I can actually see and touch you." To prove his point, Peter reached over and gently poked Jack in his abs. Not used to the sensation of being touched, Jack flinched back. "I managed to get you here to my house. When grandfather saw you he set you on the couch, took your stuff and wrapped you in that blanket. I think he said something about them being wet from the snow when he took them to the other room."
The old man came back into the room with Jack's clothes hanging on his arm. "You better have some more clothes, cause these won't do a damned thing against this cold." He handed Jack his stuff, who gladly took it, surprised at his joy of it's warmth.
"Uh, not really, but thanks." The old man muttered something under his breathe as he left the room again. Jack looked from his warm pile of clothes to his drink, trying to juggle them.
"I'll hold that for you." Peter offered. "You can get dressed in there, and you might want to rinse your hair, there's some blood in it."
"Really?" Jack handed his mug to Peter and felt the back of his head. Looking at his fingers that came away reddened, he quickly ran to the bathroom the boy had pointed out.
Shutting the door with a slam, Jack dropped his stuff on the floor and braced himself on the stained sink. He threw on his brown pants with leather wrapping around the legs, then turned on the squeaky faucet and began splashing the cold water on his face and in his hair. When he looked in the cracked mirror over the sink he let out a startled cry and stumbled back, hitting the wall.
Peter was at the door in no time. "What is it? Is everything ok?" the door flew open as Peter asked in one breath.
"Wh-what happened?!" Jack half shouted, pointing to the mirror.
Peter looked from the mirror to Jack, confused. "What do you mean? You look fine."
"No!" Jack shouted. "You don't understand, that's not me!"
"Yes it is."
"No, it's not! I don't have brown hair and brown eyes, I have white hair and blue eyes. I also don't get cold but right now I'm freezing!"
Lost for something to say, Peter shrugged.
Jack ran past Peter, out the door, and into the snow. "Manny!" Jack shouted at the moon, but the moon had no response. "Manny! What happened?!" again the moon was silent. "Answer me, damn you!" He gathered snow into a hard ball and threw it at the moon. It arced high, then landed in the street in a small explosion of snow. Peter ran out next to his panicking friend in an attempt to lure him back inside.
"Jack, you're gonna freeze out there." Peter pleaded with him to go back in the house. The old man exited the house, saw Jack freaking out, and without a word approached him and grabbed him from behind to drag him inside. Jack protested the entire way inside, even when the man dropped him on the couch, pushing him down each time he went to sit up.
The old man turned to Peter when Jack stopped struggling. "He must've hit his head harder than I thought." The old man grumbled. Peter shrugged, not saying a word. "If you go out there like that, you'll freeze again, but I won't help you this time."
"I wasn't frozen, I never get cold. I make the cold." Peter's grandfather looked at Jack without saying a word. "The man in the moon knows something, I know he does." One of the man's eyebrows raised skeptically before he left the room again.
With great apprehension, Peter handed Jack the steaming cup again who took it without a word.
An hour passed in silence between them, neither meeting the other's gaze. Giving a small wave to Jack, Peter got up to go to sleep for the night. When Peter left, sleep overtook Jack quickly, and soon he was fast asleep on the couch.
The front door slammed loudly waking Jack with a start. Heavy footsteps pounded into the house, an alcohol smelling cloud following quickly after. Peter's grandfather had gotten home and Jack didn't think he was in an amiable mood.
"Where's that pain in the ass kid?" the old man slurred as he stumbled into Peter's room.
Not knowing what was happening, Jack tucked himself into the couch.
"You filthy, no good, pain in my ass. If you hadn't been such a little prick your mother wouldn't have dumped you here for me to deal with."
Jack saw Peter back up against his wall, eyes wide as he watched his inebriated guardian stumble closer. An angry fist raised above Peter to strike. It flew through the air, but the alcohol in his system made him miss his mark. Jack threw the blanket that was on him away and ran between Peter and his grandfather.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jack half yelled at the man. With a grunt the man shoved him to the side so he could get the boy. "No!" Jack shouted at him through his rising anger. The intoxicated old man ignored Jack as he hit Peter.
"You ruined my life you worthless piece of shit." He slurred while he continued to beat the boy.
"Stop that. He didn't do anything!" Jack rushed toward him and grabbed hold of the flying arm. "Go Peter." He huffed out through the strain of holding the man's arm. Peter wasted no time in trying to escape. Ducking under the two fighting, Peter ran out the door as fast as his feet could carry him.
"What's it matter to you?" the man pulled his arm free from Jack's grasp. "Get the hell out of my way."
"No," he stood in the doorway, blocking the man's path. "I won't let you."
"Pain in the ass like him." The man grumbled when he shoved past Jack to follow Peter.
The door slammed loudly behind the old man who stumbled out into the snow. Jack opened the door to follow, but then remembered he was no longer immune to the cold as an icy wind blew into the room. Glancing around, Jack grabbed the first thing he saw and threw it on. The blue hoodie fit nicely, with a slight bagginess to it. Forgetting shoes because Peter's would've been too small and his grandfather's would've been too big, he ran out into the cold.
Jack looked around the darkened street for Peter, but couldn't see anything.
"Peter!" Jack called out for him with only the cold answering. "Peter!" he called again with the same answer. "Peter, where are you?!" no answer. He ran through the street calling out for his friend, ignoring the cold that was biting at his feet.
Finally a response came to his ears. A barely audible whisper of pleading was carried by a breeze. Following it, Jack raced to its source.
Jack found himself in the clearing by the lake where he had first talked to Peter. The sounds of Peter and his grandfather were clear when Jack found them on the frozen lake.
"I didn't do anything!" Peter cried out between his arms that were covering his head. "It wasn't me!"
"You fucking little shit, you drove him away." The old man grumbled while he continued to beat at the huddled figure. "You destroyed my life. You destroyed my daughter."
"Stop that!" Jack slid across the ice into the man, who lost his balance slightly on the smooth ice.
"What's it matter to you?" he asked then grabbed Jack by the front of his hoodie and shoved Jack backwards. Jack fell on the ice, hitting his head hard, the dark became darker as he blacked out. The old man stepping closer to Peter was the last thing he saw.
Jack opened his eyes slowly as he came to, his head pounding with pain. Then he remembered what had caused him to become unconscious. He bolted up, a hand quickly going to his head that throbbed in protest of the movement. Peter was lying motionless on the ice next to him. Jack rushed over to him on all fours, shook him in an attempt to wake him, but Peter was unresponsive. Getting worried, he tried again and again with the same response. Finally Jack pulled Peter onto his lap, leaning down close he listened for a non existent heart beat.
"Peter don't go. Don't leave me. You can't go, not yet." Jack cried into his friend's limp form. "Someone help! Please, anyone!" he shouted for help with his echo as a response. When Jack looked back at Peter, the boy fell through his lap like he had the first night he'd seen Peter. Jack's head fell, tears over his lost friend pouring freely, white hair fell forward, hiding the sorrow in his blue eyes.