And then the rush of the trees seemed to squeak in Ben’s ears. And someone said that sledding is going to be sledding. And everyone laughed, and Ben wanted to say, what do you mean it’s going to be sledding, what else would it be? But he couldn’t keep track of what that person should have said instead, and so protesting seemed stupid, and then someone asked him a question but he had been thinking about the sledding thing so he said, “What?” and Hutch laughed and asked the question again, and Ben said, “Sure,” but wasn’t sure what it was an answer to. His throat felt as dry as the wrestling match sauna. He should have known what it was an answer to.

There was Ahmed on his back now, waving his arms and legs. Someone said he was making a snow angel, and they worked around to the fact that Ahmed didn’t know it was called a snow angel, he had just been waving his arms and legs. But Tommy pulled him up and he turned around and looked down at the pattern.

“Oh! It looks like a person with wide arms and legs!” And everyone including Ben couldn’t stop laughing, but Ben felt like the outside of him was laughing and the inside was wondering how to stop laughing. Laughing the right way was supposed to be St. James.

“See?” Tommy said to someone. “I told you Ahmed would be amazing.”

They decided to go to the dining hall. Ben knew he should just follow the tracks of everyone else, but he thought that getting to the dining hall was the other way around the pond, and turning in that direction and looking out in front of him at the untracked snow, he was convinced that he was lost in the snow.

He felt a glove against his arm and it was Ahmed, passing him a hand-warmer packet. Ben broke it open and nothing happened. And then it became a lion-yellow summer against his skin.

Everyone was around Ben again, and he just put his head down and followed the boots of the kid ahead of him—he didn’t even want to know who it was—and read

Bean Boots

By L.L.Bean®

on each heel until they got to the dining hall, and he took the door that was being held for him and went inside and tried to gather his senses together to make toast, his last toast. He wished and hoped that Alice wasn’t here to see him like this. The structure of the toast broke so delightfully in his mouth; the butter and the honey were together but also separate.