A Chance to Fly, A Chance to Fall - Chapter One

Chapter One - A Frosty Winter

Snow crunches underfoot as I walk alongside my older brother, wearing nothing but a light hoodie and worn out jeans with thick wool gloves. We moved at a brisk pace down the frosty sidewalk as fresh snow floated around us. His dark hair collected the fine white powder, creating an interesting contrast that made me giggle as I jumped up to brush it off. He smiles down at me, a crooked grin that, like a contagious disease, made me smile as well. We turned around the block, heading into a large expanse of field that was being flattened to build more houses. Piles of rock and dirt were piled everywhere, frozen over from the snow and hail. Walking over to them, he takes a seat on a frost covered cinder block and watches as I prance around in the snow.

“Brother! Join me!” I cry out, motioning for him to join me. He shakes his head, flurries of snow falling from his hair.

“Alright, alright. Be careful; the ice is slippery today. Remember what happened last week?”

“But I’m all better now! See? My scratches have healed. Come on, let’s play together!” I run up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging his soft belly. He thumbs through my blonde curls for a moment, gazing at me with intense amber eyes. I let out a small squeal of happiness, gripping him tighter and pressing myself into his strong body. Letting out a small chuckle, he looks at me and says,

“Oh, are we doing bear hugs now?” Suddenly the breath is squeezed out of me as he wraps his muscular arms around me, holding me so tightly I couldn’t breath. Flailing my arms wildly, I struggle in his grip, making noises that sounded similar to a dying whale as I attempted to get out of his death hold. Laughing, he relaxes his grip and grabs me by the waist, tossing me in the air. I squeal and laugh as he catches me and holds me close to him, supporting me with one hand underneath the folds of my legs and another around my shoulders. Gazing into my eyes with a joyful expression, he kisses my forehead, brushing back my wild and tangly hair. I nuzzle his chest, relishing the warm embrace.

“I love you, Max.”

“I love you too, big brother.” I say softly. Then, scrambling out of his arms, I fall into the snow. “C’mon! Let’s play!” Scooping some icy snow into my hands, I fling it at him, missing horribly and frightening a nearby squirrel. Shaking his head at me, he begins to gather a large handful of snow, shaping it into a ball.

“Oh, Max. You should have learned not to mess with the big guy.” He takes the large snowball, bigger than my head, and chucks it at me, hitting me square in the stomach and knocking me backwards. Laughing, I jump to my feet and race away from him,

“Come and catch me, fatty!”

“Hey! I’m not fat! I’m fluffy!” he shouts, running after me. Of course, him being about five times my size, it didn't take long for him to catch up. He throws me to the ground, the snow cushioning our fall as we collapse in a fit of laughter. We lay there for a bit, looking at the clouds and jumping from topic to topic, from his new love interests to the picture I colored on Friday. Within less than ten minutes, I begin to fidget and rise from the ground, hopping and prancing around.

“Chris! Come on! Let’s climb the ice mountains!” I dash off, ready to climb the ice covered rocks and bricks left by construction crews.

“Be careful, Max! You better not fall and get hurt. I don't feel like listening to you whine and cry.” I roll my eyes and begin to climb, my torn and battered sneakers sliding against the ice as I reach up for a hand hold. Focusing intently on my climbing, I continue to make my way up it, slowly inching up and trying not to fall back. A flash of red catches my eyes, a shrill squawk startling me. I lose hold of my grip, slipping down the ice. Flailing for something to hold, I grab a stick poking out of the mound. As my fist encloses around it, I feel the sharp prick of thorns. I let out a scream but refuse to let go, using my other hand to pull myself to the top of the mound. I lay across the top, gasping and staring at my hand, numb in the cold. Several thorns stick out from my wooly glove, and I was glad I had worn it. I took it off, staring upon the small cuts in my hand and examining the damage the briar had done. Chris was already beside me, taking my hand from me and looking at it.

“What happened to being careful?” he sighs sarcastically, and tears swell in my eyes. I hadn’t meant to fall. If it weren’t for the stupid bird startling me, none of it would have happened.

“I didn’t mean to!” A pathetic whine escapes my mouth and I look down at my hand, the thorns standing upright in my palm with small rivulets of blood streaming down it. I sniffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve. His eyes soften as he glances into my eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay… I didn’t mean to fuss. Big brother’s got you.” He begins to pull the thorns out one by one, each time more and more blood gushes out of my palm, and I grimace in pain. When the last one is out, he takes my hand and wipes the blood off on his shirt before giving it a gentle kiss. “See? I kissed it all better. Now let’s go home before you break something.”

He holds my hand in his all the way home. Even when approached (and laughed at) by an old neighborhood friend, he refuses to let go. Protectively, he keeps me close to him. When we get home, I head straight to our bedroom and flop down on the bed, staring up at the small box TV that sat on the dresser. Chris entered in shortly after, pushing me to the other side of the bed to make room for him. With one arm around me, we doze off watching one of our favorite movies, Ghostbusters.