Snow Day
It hadn't snowed properly in years. Not like this.
Thick, soft flakes clung to blazers and hair. The field was a sheet of white. Teachers had given up trying to keep anyone off it.
Toots had her hands in her pockets, scarf tucked up to her nose. Wilfred was cautiously testing the crunch underfoot. Smiffy stood like a statue, staring up at the sky with quiet awe.
Danny didn't say anything.
He just nailed Sidney in the side of the head with a snowball.
"Oi!" Sidney yelped, spinning. "What the hell—?"
Too late.
Danny was already running, school shoes skidding, laughing.
Chaos followed.
Sidney launched one back instinctively—missed and hit Spotty. Spotty retaliated with terrifying accuracy. Toots ducked behind Smiffy, who was immediately hit anyway.
Wilfred somehow had snow in both ears within thirty seconds.
Danny barrelled past Dennis, nailed him square in the chest, and kept going.
Dennis, furious, joined in without hesitation. That's when things really got dangerous.
Someone (probably Plug) yelled "truce" too late. No one listened.
Cuthbert was screaming. Toots was sniping people like it was war. Danny had climbed a tree for high ground and was taking hits like a king.
No one remembered who won.
Later, soaked through and breathless, Danny stood with snow melting in his hair, grinning like his face couldn't contain it.
"That," he said, "was wicked." No one argued.