Cory McBrown: Year 2-Chapter 2

14th of December, 2002

The next morning, I go to Sam and John’s to find John busy baking.

“Whatcha up to?” I ask him.

“Since we only get four pre-Christmas days off from school, I’m getting a jump start on baking over the weekend,” he answers, stirring some batter.

“Which one is this?”

“Mousse.” John answers.

I make a face. I have never heard of a 14 year old who made mousse on their own. “Is it eggy?”

“Aye, so no taste until I finish it.” John warns.

“Is Sam around? We were gonna go skating on the pond.”

John gives me an injured look. “Skating? I wanna go.”

“What about your baking?”

John looks at his mousse. “Well… I can put it in the oven and ask the Conways to watch it.”

I nod. “Okay. Just meet us there.”

Sam comes downstairs. “Hey. Ready to go?”

“Aye, of course.”

We head out the door. The pond is a really nice, calm, peaceful place. There isn’t a lot of snow here, but the pond is frozen and the trees are frosty. It does get cold here.

Putting our skates on, I ask Sam: “You coming over to help decorate the tree tonight?”

“Can’t. Harry and I are going on a date.”

I sigh. There’s that word again. It’s starting to feel like a four-letter-word. “Tomorrow, then?”

Sam nods. “Aye, I should be able to do it tomorrow,” she says, standing up.

“Can I ask you what is so important about dating?” I ask as she helps me up.

“Well, besides the fact that the population would come to a screeching halt if nobody dated, it’s another way of making important connections with people,” she tells me.

I frown. “You’re making deep connections with Harry Barton? Doesn’t it seem like you could do better?” That sounded more judgmental once I said it out loud.

Sam gives me a look. “Well, at 14, I’m not actually mature enough for deep connections like that. So right now I just play the field- figure out what kinds of people I like. Harry Barton is a stepping stone to someone even better next time.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Stepping stone? Last year you said you’d tied him down.”

“I was 13. It’s normal for a 13 year old to have wholly unrealistic expectations of love.”

I decide I want to stop having this conversation, so I say: “Wanna have an ice-skate race?”

Sam perks up. “You know I do!”

We both stand up and get on the ice, lining up exactly with each other.

“On your mark, get set, go!” I say.

We both start skating as fast as we can, being careful not to fall or bump into each other. We both learned in 4th class that if we tried to check each other, there’s no guarantee that only one of us falls down, so what’s the point?

Pretty soon, Sam starts pulling ahead of me. She plays ice hockey, and I don’t, so her thighs are a bit stronger than mine. Still, I exert as much strength as I can to catch up to her. I’m totally winded, but I still try. Apparently she wasn’t using all her strength, because she starts skating faster.

“Three laps around?” she says.

I’m breathing heavily, exerting in the heavy, cold air. “Sure,” I say anyway.

We round the whole pond once. All told it probably took one whole minute, but it felt like five. Lap two felt like ten. By lap three it felt like my calves were on fire.

Just then, John shows up. “What are you guys doing?”

I lose my focus and end up skating right into Sam, which sends us both flying into a pile of snow on the side of the pond.

Sam sits up. “Are you okay?”

I spit out a mouthful of snow. “Aye, fine.”

“What were you guys doing?” John asks.

“Having an ice-skate race,” Sam says. “Three laps around the pond.”

“We still have at least ten feet,” I point out.

Sam notices this, and she scrambles up. However, I was already up, standing on the ice. With my last burst of energy and muscle ability, I make a bee line for the tree we used as our finish line. Then the worst happens! Both legs give out, and I fall forward. Sam skates on by.

“Victory is mine!” She says.

“I’m okay,” I say, a touch of snark in my voice.

Sam skates back over. “Sorry. Are you hurt?”

I stand up. “Not really. Just tired.”

“Um, I apologize, but I have a judge rule,” John says.

Sam gives him a look. “And that would be?”

“Technically, Cory’s hands and torso crossed the finish line as she fell, and she slid over the line before you crossed it.”

Sam looks at him in disbelief. John looks like he’s going to melt. “What? I’m just trying to be fair.”

Sam looks at me. Then she sighs. “Fine. You win. Congratulations.” We high five.

By that time it was starting to get dark, I was actually really cold, and Sam had to go get ready for her date.

So John called his girlfriend, Trudy, and asked if she wanted to hang out with us at my house.

Of course, she said yes. She seems pretty fond of John. I can understand why. John’s one of my favorite people in the world. He’s always there for you when you need him, but not at his own expense, and not for advice. But if silliness is what’s needed he always has some of it. He’s quirky and funny and cute.

Wait- did I just say cute? Is John cute to me? Does this mean I have a crush on John? I look over at him. The three of us are cutting snowflakes out of paper. Nah. That’d be like kissing my brother. Which, no!

John is just one of my very good friends, one I hope I have forever. We continue to make snowflakes and talk about various things: school, holidays, but not crushes. I told them both I’d like to steer clear of that topic.

15th of December, 2002

The next evening, we get all of our decorations out and start decorating the tree. John was very nice to make us some chocolate chip cookies, and I pour everyone eggnog. I sprinkle nutmeg into some, but not everyone’s. The one thing Edward and Bart seem to be able to agree on is they don’t like nutmeg in their eggnog. Bart told me one time he accidentally inhaled the spice and panicked because he read about how dangerous it is to eat straight cinnamon. I really don’t think choking on one piece of nutmeg one time did much to hurt him. He seems fine.

I take the eggnogs to everyone, while John hands out cookies.

“How did your date with Harry go, Sam?” Mum asks.

Sam blushes a little, which is unusual for her. “Good. We’re talking about going all the way.”

I almost choke on my eggnog. Bart actually does.

John goes beet red. “Why?” Edward asks. “You’re only 14.”

“And he’s 15. It’s not like I don’t know how to be prepared and safe. Brienna taught me all about that.” Sam defends.

Edward looks at Brienna. She gives him a look. “You knew I was open when you married me. I’ve never told these kids anything they didn’t ask about. And you guys should know these things. You’re reaching an age where this will start to become part of your life, and you’ll be miles ahead of everyone else if you know how to explore it safely.”

Yuck, I think. I don’t want that to be a part of my life. Not yet anyways. They may be right, that may change, but it’s not changing now.

“I’m still not sure 14 is a good age to start.” Edward says.

“Well, Sam’s right. He’s 15, and it sounds like they’re having respectful conversations about it, and if they’re safe and responsible, I don’t see the issue.” Mum argues.

Edward thinks for a moment. “It’s different for lads.”

Mum gives him another look. I know that look. Edward’s stepped in it. I laugh silently. “Exactly how is it different for lads?”

“Well… It’s safer for one thing.”

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.” Mum says.

“Well, not because of any lad or girl thing, but I wasn’t ready at 14.” Bart says. “I didn’t do it until last month.”

Sam looks at Bart. “Really???” Now I turn beet red. I did not need to know that.

“Aye, I wasn’t ready.”

“You’ve been in a relationship since you were a 4th year.” Sam says.

“So what?”

“Look, everyone is ready at their own pace,” Mum says. “Everyone can say their piece, but ultimately, it’s Sam and Harry’s choice whether or not they’re ready.”

Well, this is one of the most excruciating conversations I’ve ever had, so I was relieved when we continued decorating the tree. As per the usual, one of the ornaments fell and broke. That’s happened to us every year since I was probably three. This time it’s Jenny who drops it. She has been officially initiated into our family tradition of breaking shiny glass ornaments.