Twenty-Five

Just on a whim, Chloe decided to call Elena's phone, just to see what happened.

Mostly, though, Chloe was procrastinating. She had this Chemistry test on Monday, you see, and she was not ready. It was one of this big tests, too, the one that made her teacher give the students stern glances over the rim of her glasses as she reminded them that, yes, this test would count for one-fourth of their marking period grades.

Besides, Chloe had been at Mike's, anyway. So her single bubble of cell service was delightfully close, and perfect for procrastination. She made her excuses to Mike and went outside. There were still clumps of snow on the ground. It cracked under her feet, very little sticking to the edges of her boots, as it had for the past few days.



It was windy, that day. The telephone poles actually swayed. A storm was coming and maybe they'd lose power.

If there was anything Chloe loved, it was a good power-outage. When there was no power, she and her mom and her brother and her dad and her grandmother all sat around the family room with candles and ate whatever they had in the house that didn't need to be cooked, and Gram would tell some story about her dad that they could tease him about for a solid week, at least.

And then, if it was winter, they started to pull out all the blankets.

Yeah, maybe Chloe would invite Mike over, this time, if the power went out. And that would be a good reason to not study for Chemistry. Was it even possible to study by candlelight? Chloe didn't think so. There was a reason, after all, that people worked from sunup to sundown back in the days before electricity.

Right. No Chemistry in a power-outage.

In thinking about the snow, Chloe almost forgot what she had come out here to do. She called Elena's phone. It was dead, by now. Naturally.

She looked up at the sky as she walked back inside. It was light, almost white, with patches and patches of gray. Chloe loved the winter. She loved the cold and she loved the snow. She loved wearing sweaters, she loved wearing coats. She loved snowball fights and snowmen and Christmas and New Years and she loved that this year, she'd have a kiss at midnight. She loved that she'd have ten days off school (so close!) and that she'd get to choose a new calendar.

Winter was good. Winter was good stuff.

Inside, Mike was watching some dumb show while she studied. He looked up when she came back in. "Who'd you call?" he asked. He would have been able to see everything she'd done while she was outside. The living room opened right out to the front yard, by the way of a giant picture window.

Chloe shrugged. "Nobody."

Strictly, this was almost true. She hadn't expected Elena to pick up. She'd just called her, for whatever reason.

Mike frowned. "No, who?" Mike did, after all, have something of a suspicious nature.

Chloe shrugged again. "Elena."

As to that, Mike had nothing to say. He just put his arm around her and turned back to his show. Mike didn't care if his girlfriend was a little crazy in calling her missing friend--whatever. He did care if she was calling other guys for God only knew what reason. If she wanted to call Elena, fine. That was fine with him.

And Chloe really did make a steady attempt to pay attention to her Chemistry notes, to memorize the formulas she needed to take this thermodynamics test on Monday. She tried. But it was about to snow outside--she had been able to taste it in the air. And the weatherman had promised a storm, which meant that the power might have gone out. And Mike's arm was around her, snug and warm and comforting and sweet.

And Chemistry was just so goshdamn boring.

So it wasn't too long before Chloe gave up, and closed her books and set them aside. She leaned her head against Mike's shoulder and watched the show with him, as stupid as it may have been. After all, there were better ways to procrastinate.