This is just a quick little one I thought of while being inspired by the cold. I hope you like it (perhaps you can relate to one of the boys here!) and thank you for reading! :)


Robert blew into his hands and rubbed them together before picking up his pencil and beginning to copy the notes down from the board. It was the tail-end of January; a miserable time weather-wise. The school's heater had died that morning. Inside the huge brick building, everything was icy cold. The boys were shivering, the teachers were in no mood to teach, and the cold air just hung around as if refusing to warm up. The history teacher that was trying to lecture in front of the class sighed after a few minutes of explaining the Boxer Rebellion. "I sense that none of you are actually paying much attention, and I must admit, neither am I. It's absolutely unbearable to teach in such cold temperatures. Either work on something from another class or read quietly. Make sure your coats are on though." he instructed. All of the boys, very pleased at receiving free time, hastily put their notebooks away and gathered in groups of friends.

Majority of the choirboys were in this class all at the same time. They coagulated in the left-hand corner of the room. Jack pulled his scarf closer around his neck. "Good God is it cold!" he muttered through chattering teeth. "Someone ought to pay to have the heater fixed." Maurice rubbed his fingers on this own sleeves and shuffled his feet. "I think someone ought to make mittens for toes like we wear on our hands." he said. Bill nudged him. "They're called socks." he replied. Maurice thought for a moment. He nodded. "But they ought to have little spaces for the toes to go into-like a mitten has spaces for the fingers!"
"Nuts!"

Everyone laughed a shivery laugh. Simon pulled his choir robe closer around himself and opened his reading book. Quietly, he began reading in the corner. Simon enjoyed reading so much because it usually took his mind off things that were bothering him. It was only suitable to read in this unbearable cold too. Harold stomped his feet. "Do you think the teacher would mind very much if I made a campfire back here?" he asked with a chuckle. "I wouldn't mind!" Bill seconded. Jack scoffed. "We need no fire-we need a better school heater!" he retorted miserably.

Simon turned another page in his book and felt someone bump his elbow rather gently. He looked up, squeaking out a small "I'm sorry," but smiled when he saw it was Roger coming to sit beside him in the corner. He too had a book in hand, but not a reading one. It was his sketchbook. "Want to sit here?" Simon asked. Roger made no sound. He just sat down in the small space beside his friend. "It's rather warm in the corner because it's so small. It feels nice." Simon explained, not expecting a response. Roger pulled his robe over his legs. He quietly began sketching.

Jack couldn't take much more of just sitting in complete cold. His irritability was rising by the second. He glanced around to see if all the boys were behaving themselves (especially after Harold's quip about starting a campfire and everyone's agreement to it) and saw Simon all scrunched up with Roger in the small space. He got an idea. "Alright, now. I've thought of something to keep us warm for the time being." he called out to the choir. The boys listened. "Let's all get into a circle-a tight circle. Shoulder to shoulder. Like one big group hug. That way, the heat will stay in the middle of us and we'll feel warmer." After a few seconds of thought from the boys, they all started nodding. "Yes, that'll work." Bill responded. "What an idea!" Henry marveled. "My socks should have toes!" Maurice whined. Jack called the two warmest little bodies out of their space and toward the shivering group. They all got close-very close-and adjusted so that the space in the middle was minimal.

Some boys put their arms around each other, others kept their rubbing their hands together inside their choir robes. They sat very still for a little while, just a mass of black fabric, and waited for the warmth to come.

And waited.

And waited.

After a while, Roger broke the silence. "…I hate this!" he raised his voice. They all eased back a little, asking Jack why it didn't feel nice and toasty like they thought and why the circle fell apart and why socks really didn't have toes on them. Simon glanced down as Roger pulled his knees up to his chest. He noticed the holes that periodically covered his gloves and wondered if he was cold. He wasn't complaining though. Simon sat a little closer to him just in case he should need some extra warmth. Roger seemed to appreciate that, even though he didn't say it.

Jack sighed. "Well that turned out to be a fat lot of nothing," he grumbled. He gave a shiver and turned around after rubbing his arms. Immediately, his attention snapped to the boys. Maurice was sitting on the ground with one shoe and sock off, trying to fit his mitten over his foot. He was laughing as though he was the funniest person in the whole world, and all of the other boys were hysterically laughing with him. "Maurice! You stop that right now! Do you want to catch a cold?! Or get frostbitten?! Act like a twelve-year-old, for God's sakes!" Jack scolded. But when he saw Harold trying to rub two pencils together and Henry shredding paper into little bits and sweeping them into a nice pile that the pencils were rubbing over, he almost lost it. "Both of you cut it out! Do you want to light the whole room on fire?!"
"…It would be better than the ice palace it is right now!" Henry giggled. Jack confiscated the pencils furiously and made them both sit down. He put a hand on his head. "Ugh, if there's anything worse than cold, it's having a headache in it…" he mumbled.