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Chapter 3: I Should've Took That Picture

"I'm tired of the cold, aren't you Elsa? Well I guess not, since you are an ice skater. How can you ice skate? It seems so scary! Have you ever fallen before—have you ever broken something?! I broke my arm once. I fell off a slide, but that was during summer break. I went to the beach for the summer but I had to stay in the shade cause I sunburn very easily. Do you sunburn easily? You are really pale, like a snow flake! Or a snowball! One time—"

My patience was quickly ebbing into the realm of intolerance. This, oddly enough, does not occur in frequent succession. Only in rare times—times divulged from sporadic occurrences that spin out of the small control I cling too. In fact, my entire existence had been loosely based upon this control I have perfected over the course of a life time. Funny enough, there happen to be only two things in this world that caused that control to deviate off its set path; wasted time and Olaf.

Olaf was a wisp of a thing. White blond hair, equally pale skin, and eyes that bore such an intense brown they were practically black. All of eight years old, Olaf had the heart of an elephant. What countered this though, was the nasty habit he had seemed to have developed. He spoke with such rapid intensity that I was led to believe silence was a bit of a foreign objective to him. My present headache would only attested to this observation.

Sill firing off mindless dialog, Olaf jerked in startlement when I interrupted him. "Olaf," I sighed, rubbing my temples briefly before pointing to a simplistic addition problem. "What is 75 plus 9."

Pausing mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open with the broken climax of his story, his dark eyes followed my finger to the problem in question. I watched his smile melt into a scowl which then quickly turned into exasperation. "Uh-one hundred and fourteen," he guessed after a moment of consideration.

I sighed but offered a sympathetic smile before lifting the pencil from his loose grip. "Almost. See," I said, "you have to carry the one and leave the four, which would make the seven an eight."

Olaf blinked, sitting up in his chair in the way only little boys could do and leaning over the paper. "So eighty-four then," he offered, counting on his fingers as if to be sure.

"Very good," I praised, allowing him to write a sloppy eighty-four in the space provided.

Once finished, Olaf set down his pencil and beamed at his work. "All finished! Thanks Elsa," he chirped, holding up the crumpled sheet as if I had no idea the final problem had been completed.

Smiling, I gently took the paper from him and placed it into a rather worn but seemingly loved plastic folder. "You've gotten better. I'm impressed," I complimented while clicking the stack of papers collected there upon the distressed kitchen table.

I have been tutoring little Olaf for three weeks now. At the time, it had only been a one time deal but, I must admit, he sort of grew on me. Now, every Tuesday and Thursday, Olaf comes over to be guided in his third grade studies. I minded little seeing as the routine failed to interfere with my schedule too much.

Olaf pounced from his chair, landing effortlessly onto the slick tile and grinned brightly at me. "I've been practicin'," he announced before pursing his lips in thought. "You know, Elsa, everyone says you're really mean, but they're wrong. You are super nice!"

I paused at this, feeling something close to grief bloom inside my chest like a build up of air. I knew this. I know what they say when I walk down the hallways. Seeing as our school holds all grades, granted the campus has them all separated of course, staring from kindergarten up, I would see how Olaf would pick up on some of the verbal abuse. I knew all of this, and yet it still created a rock sized bundle of emotion to settle at the bottom of my lungs.

'Stop it, Elsa,' I chastised silently to myself. 'They just don't understand'

Rather than allow my feelings to get the best of me, I forced a hoarse chuckle and handed Olaf his backpack. "Why thank you, Olaf. I am pleased to hear I have exceeded your expectations."

He laughed but not for very long, pinning me to the floor with a fierce look only an eight year old could successfully pull off. "I won't let them say bad things, Elsa. I told them that you were super stupendous! Cool word, huh? I learned it today at English class!"

"You learned it today in English class," I corrected, smiling softly as I herded him out the door. Twenty minutes until I had to be at the rink. No questions asked.

Grinning, as if he had discovered the Lost City of Atlantis, Olaf nodded. "That's what I said. At English class! I love English class—hey did you know that you spell Mississippi with four 'S's'? I thought for sure I was spelling it wrong, but I was right! See, I can sure spell swell, all thanks to you! You taught me how to spell summer, which is my most favoritest—

I laughed, cutting him off as I nudged him out the door. "Alright, alright. Now, off you go. See you Thursday, yes," I said, watching him as he skipped down the porch steps. They squeaked and groaned under the sudden weight he provided.

"Huh-huh," he confirmed, hopping excitedly into a small patch of snow. "I'll have more math for ya! See you, Elsa," he added, turning slightly to offer a wave before flitting across the drive and down the sidewalk towards his home.

Smiling, I waited until he made it into his two story, red bricked house and then shut he door hastily. Now I only had fifteen minutes and forty five seconds until I had to be at the rink. My stomach growled but I ignored it as I rushed to replace my comfortable clothes with the more fitting dress I always saved for the ice. No time to eat now; I'll have at least twenty minutes to my self before Anna returns home to indulge myself with the daunting task of eating.

Ten minutes and thirty-three seconds.

I scooped up my bag and sprinted out the door, letting the wood bounce back against the frame twice before it slammed shut. It took only five minutes to walk from my house to the rink—a small luxury I was awarded—leaving five minutes to enter the rink and set up. Time was everything. Even a minute lost could cost me dearly. I mustn't waist valuable time on ridiculous antics.

I was calculating the exact time I would have upon arriving, when I saw him.

It wasn't that he caught my eye or anything, in fact when spotting him I still had immense trouble pinpointing his exact location amongst the snow, and yet there he was. Perched like an owl up in a tree, frowning at the horizon as if it held answers to life most tragic questions, was the boy I spotted hours before. What caught my eye was that luminescent jacket he ridiculously wore. If he was trying to hide, that jacket was only hindering his effort. Nevertheless, his sudden proximity to my path startled me so that I stopped and stared.

I was sure he had not seen me but, with out straying away from the intense stare off with the sun set, he spoke. "A picture might last a bit longer," he murmured.

It was so quiet I almost lost the words to the wind, but the slight smirk fluttering across his pale lips spoke volumes.

A blush attempted at crawling its way up my cheeks, but I pushed it back down and scowled. I should have ignored him and kept walking, I had an unwavering task at hand and he was just a stranger. But something about that holier-than-thou smirk forced words to fly from my mouth. "As if I would want a picture of you. All that would show up would be your ridiculous jacket anyway." I huffed, feeling my cheeks flush at an unfamiliar and uncomfortable rate. My heart sped up and I clenched my fists. I thought the stranger might speak obscenely in response but he only chuckled.

"I happen to like my jacket," he announced jumping with little effort from his perch and onto the ground in front of me. "It completes me." he added admirably, smiling. It wasn't a sweet kind of smile, nor was it a hostile one. It was more of a condescending smirk that left you wondering if you were about to have something stolen off you.

I took a step back and glared, crossing my arms defensively. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, seeing as most people did not draw this type of response from me, but there was something about this strange boy that infuriated me.

"So," he announced when I said nothing, walking a circle about me as if attempting to observe me from all angles. "You come here often," he said, flashing me a curious smirk.

I blinked, shocked by his abruptness, and then sneered. "Is that some sort of pick up line, because it lacked tack." I snapped.

The strange boy awarded me with an amused smirk and chuckled. "Actually, sweetheart, it was a statement. You come here at least twice a day, if not more. I am only wondering why," he pointed out, counting on his fingertips the number two.

At this, I frowned. How did he know that? I hadn't made it a secret, but then again, I had no real friends. "So, what, are you stalking me or something? I have the mind to phone the police, you know," I loosely threatened. I had no real plans to call the authorities and he seemed to know it too.

Grinning, the strange boy began walking off. "Stalking? Don't flatter yourself. Observing from a far distance without your knowledge—?," he broke off, giving me a wicked grin, "—Perhaps."

And with this, he was gone.

It was only after a moment of prolonged, flabbergasted silence, did reality grace me with its presence once again. I felt all flushed and bothered suddenly, as if I had lost something. Pulling up my sleeve, I checked the watch secured around my slender wrist and sucked in a breath. I realized I had lost something. Time.

Two minutes and fifty-six seconds.

I sprinted forward and fumed. How dare he take up my time. It was his fault, being perched up in a tree in such a manner. How utterly childish. What had he set out to accomplish up there? And who was he? I hadn't seen him around school, then again I hadn't really been looking. What did he want with me? Why should I even be considering the possibilities?

"Focus, Elsa," I mumbled under my breath, reaching the rinks doors and pulling it open. "You have a job to do. Get it done."

Immediately the cool of the rink hit my face and I relaxed. I had a job to do. And no one was going to get in my way. Especially not a stupid boy gallivanting up in trees.

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