Luke Harrison knelt and packed the rectangular block of snow tightly against the previous block, making the wall he was building about six feet long.
“That’s enough, isn’t it?” Luke said.
“Yeah. That should do it,” Jimmy Besner said. Jimmy was the oldest of the three teenage boys and it usually fell to him to make the decisions.
Jimmy’s brother, John, looked it over and said, “I don’t know? Looks lopsided over here.”
“It’s fine,” Jimmy said.
“I can’t make any more anyway,” Luke said. “My hands are freezing.”
“Start making snowballs, then,” John said. “We didn’t have near enough last time.”
“Why do I always have to make the snowballs, you guys never make ‘em.”
“You’re the youngest. You make the snowballs,” Jimmy stated matter-of-factly.
Luke cursed under his breath, but did what he was told. He also knew he was the best at it and this was why he always got the job.
He could barely feel his fingers, even with the mittens on, and he blew into his hands trying to get some feeling back. It had been an unusually cold winter for Annandale, Virginia, but the plus had been lots of snow, and lots of snow days from school. Ninth grade was a pain and Luke hated it, so any chance to get out of it was the best thing that could happen.
John came and knelt next to Luke and began making snowballs with him. Jimmy stood watch. The attack would be coming soon. They needed to be ready.
The three of them had been in a constant war with the kids from Willow Branch Court, two blocks to the north. It was their turn to defend and so far the contest was tied. Two battles apiece. The problem was the kids from Willow Branch outnumbered them five to three. Luke didn’t care, he was better at throwing than all five of the attackers put together. They never even considered it unfair; it was just the way it was.
The pile of snowballs grew to a decent number, but Luke knew they needed more. He hurried to make as many as he could, but then Jimmy yelled, “Here they come!” and jumped down behind the wall. He began forming snowballs and adding them to the pile as quickly as he could.
Peering over the top of the wall, Luke got a good look at their opposition. He cursed. “Crap! They have a wagon full. We’re gonna get killed.”
“Just ‘cause they have more doesn’t mean they’re any better than last time,” Jimmy said. “Now get down and make more.”
Luke started forming snowballs as fast as his frozen hands would let him.
“Do we make the special ones?” John asked.
Jimmy paused for a second and said, “No. Paul got stitches last time. We fight fair.”
The ‘special ones’ were snowballs with ice in the middle. They were very fast and highly accurate, but could put a serious hurt on someone. Namely, Paul Bannon. Paul started it by getting the Willow Branch kids to make a few and Jimmy was hit in his throwing arm, causing it to go numb. Luke, Jimmy, and John lost that battle.
To get back at them, Jimmy made some for the next battle, and the three targeted Paul with the special snowballs. One nailed him right in the face. Paul ran home screaming with blood running down his chin and had to go to the emergency room where he received seven stitches. It was agreed upon after that, no one would use ice balls any more. This was supposed to be fun, after all.
Luke peeked over the wall again. “They’re splitting up.”
Jimmy stood and watched for a second. “Alright. Enough. We don’t have time for more. The wagon and three of them are moving toward our left, so John, you cover the right side, and me and Luke will cover the left. Make ‘em count.”
The rules were simple, the team with the most hits won. If you were defending, you were not allowed out from behind your barrier. If you were attacking, you could basically do anything you wanted. There were no referees, so the teams had to agree upon the winner after the battle, and this sometimes resulted in a shouting match over who the victor was. The honor system worked for the most part, but kids will be kids.
If you made a kid cry, the battle was over automatically, and the team with the crybaby lost. Because of this rule, both teams worked hard at making somebody bawl.
Two premature snowballs sailed over their heads and Luke grinned at Jimmy. “They suck!”
Jimmy laughed as he hefted two snowballs in his hands. “Ready?”
Luke nodded. “Yep,” John said.
“Now!”
All three stood as one and picked their targets. Luke saw Patrick Pemberton struggling with the wagon in the drifts of snow and aimed for his face. The first shot went wide right, but his second caught him in the neck. Patrick abandoned the wagon and ran for cover behind a tree a couple of feet away.
“One!” Luke yelled.
A snowball whizzed over his head, and he ducked down and grabbed two more. Jimmy knelt down and was hit in the top of his head as he grabbed for more. The other team yelled, “One!”
John yelled, “Two!” and then a second later, “Three!” and started laughing.
Snowballs were flying in all directions and it was hard for Luke to stay up for more than a second or two. Jimmy was whipping his arm in a frenzy, and John couldn’t stop laughing. Luke caught a slushy one in the chin. His face stung but he didn’t care. He pegged Patrick twice more and he and Jimmy hit Alan Grimes at the same time. They both yelled “Twelve!” together, then Luke grinned and yelled “Thirteen!”
The pile of snowballs was shrinking and Jimmy told Luke to make more. The wagon the other team had was still half full but lay in the open, stuck in the drifts. The other team had to break cover to get to their hoard, and every time they did someone would get pelted. Luke’s team was leading thirteen to seven.
Luke started scraping the ground. Dirt was showing in places and Luke couldn’t leave the cover of the wall for more snow. He shifted over to the right to dig deeper and began frantically scraping snow into a pile.
“I’m out!” John yelled.
“Take some of mine,” Jimmy yelled, tossing his brother a few. “Come on Luke!”
“There’s hardly any snow left!” Luke said. “I’m trying!”
A snowball bounced off the top of the wall and skipped into Luke’s hair. He didn’t even notice. He was forming snow into balls as fast as he could and when his pile was gone he knelt next to John and started digging near the right side of the wall. The Willow Branch boys were gaining on them and he heard them shout out ‘Eleven!’ as Jimmy cursed and spat snow from his mouth.
“Damn that hurt!”
Luke reached out beyond the wall and scooped snow into his side. A snowball whizzed past his head. He scraped another armful and something caught his eye. It looked like tan carpet or somebody’s discarded dirty coat buried in the snow. He scraped another armful toward him, uncovering more of the buried object, which now looked like fur and what Luke thought might be a red collar. He stopped and stared, not sure what to do. The battle seemed to fade into the background as his arm took on a life of its own, reaching toward the matted, dirty fur. He carefully scraped away some more and then stood, horrified. A snowball smacked into the side of his face and then he vomited all over the white snow as Patrick Pemberton yelled, “Twelve!”