Maximillian stood outside of Southgate Elementary, staring at the door. The precocious eight-year-old wore a country club outfit that included a sweater over his shirt and a leather shoulder bag instead of a backpack. He did not move as others walked past.
“Hi Maxey,” Johnny said, walking up next to him.
Maximillian noted Johnny’s light-up shoes and dinosaur backpack and replied to his best friend, “Hello, Jonathan.”
“What are you staring at?” Johnny asked.
“The new school year stretches out like a frozen tundra. Can’t you see it?”
“I just see the door,” Johnny said.
“Well, it’s there—an Arctic wasteland of ice and snow. We can’t see the horizon. All we can do is slowly march towards next summer.”
“How much snow are we talking about?”
“You step down and your leg disappears,” Maximillian said, sagging his knee to demonstrate.
“That’s awesome,” Johnny said. “We could have so many snowball fights. We could build forts and snowmen.”
“No. Our job is to cross it, not to play,” Maximillian said.
“Well, in Alaska, they have dogs, I think. Or you can ice skate. Both sound fun.”
Maximillian stared at Johnny. “You know Jonathon…”
At that moment, the bell rang and Johnny yelled. “We have to go find our lockers. Come on, Maxey! I didn’t even bring a winter coat!”