Special thanks to L. M. McCleland – author and contributor of this story!

“How much farther? Are we there yet?” whined the Squirt in between mouthfuls of candy. Susan was sitting next to him in the back seat of the van. I’d heard enough, so I cranked up the volume on my iPod and settled sideways in the middle of the seat. I watched Susan’s mouth as she gave him a sharp reply. She had long brown hair, and big doe eyes that usually lit up the room when she came in. Not now, though. The Squirt had worn her down.
Mom bumped my leg with a couple of juice boxes, and asked me to pass them back. My headphones fell off as I grabbed them from her. “Thanks, Mom,” said Susan, as I handed them over the seat back. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the back seat, but I heard Susan’s high-pitched shriek, “Jeff!”    I glanced over and saw the Squirt juggling a bag of candy and a juice box. Candy was everywhere, and his fingers were sticky and multicolored.
“Sorry, Susan,” he said as he chewed on a huge mouthful of candy. He put the candy bag down on the seat. It immediately fell over, and spilled the rest of its contents. He started poking the straw at the middle of the foil circle on the top of the juice box. It was like watching a novice carpenter drive in his first nail. Finally, he got it in, and reached for the candy bag with his free hand, but in doing so, he squeezed the juice box with his other hand. Juice shot out of the straw like a fountain. Bulls eye!
Susan squawked, “Jeff, you got me in the eye!” Hey, I knew he wasn’t called the Squirt for nothing! Susan was fuming and leaned to the front seat for help. “Mom, Jeff is driving me crazy! Can’t he sit with Greg now? He’s been back here for the whole trip!”
Mom turned to direct traffic. “Okay, Jeff. You move up to the middle seat. Greg, move over and make room for your brother.”
Now it was my turn. “Aw, Mom! There’s less room up here. Why put two people in a shorter seat?”
Mom looked at me with fire in her eyes and said, deliberately, “Okay, then. You and Susan can switch places.”
Man, I didn’t want to be trapped with the Squirt in back. “C’mon, Mom. We don’t have much farther to go.”
Mom turned around slowly – I thought her head would spin around completely, she was so angry. Dad piped in. “Switch with Susan now, Greg.” He glared at me in the rearview mirror. That was it – the order was given.
Sort of like last Thanksgiving. Over dinner, he’s said, “Let’s meet Howard and Elizabeth and spend Christmas up at the farm.” I froze in horror, then looked over at Mom. No, Mom. Please don’t!
“That would be wonderful, honey! We haven’t seen them for the longest time!”
I looked at Susan for help. She was keeping her eyes glued to her sweet potatoes as if one of them was dancing.
Man, why is it always up to me? “We were just at the farm last summer. Why can’t we have Christmas at home?” I asked.
“Now, Greg,” said Mom in her patient voice. “It would be lots of fun, and would give us a Christmas to remember instead of just another frenzy over gifts. It’s all about family, you know.”
Then the Squirt joined in. “Yeah, and it would be fun to play in the woods again!” Traitor.
“That’s the spirit, Jeff!” said Mom to her new recruit.
Dad, oblivious to our objections as usual, said, “I’ll call Howard tonight, and we’ll set up the details. We can drive up the weekend before and have a few days to settle in.”
“You know, I heard they built a new mall in Chippewa Falls just a few miles from the farm. Why don’t we do our shopping there instead of dragging presents with us in the van?” said Mom.
I did my best eye-roll and moaned, “Ah, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t want any overalls or mud boots for Christmas. What kind of stores will they have in a cow-town like that? Let’s just shop here!”
Mom’s eyes flared. “Gregory, that’s enough.” I gave up. Discussions are always over when she uses my full name.
So here we were. Five hours out, two to go, and we were getting restless. I nested in the back seat, keeping the Squirt at arm’s length. I tried looking out the window, but black trees and white snow look the same everywhere. I began wondering why they have to make vans capable of going for 6 hours on one tank of gas. If they cut that back a little, even Dad would have to pull over once in a while.
I checked my wallet. I had just enough money to keep everyone happy. That’s the problem with being only 15 years old. You’re old enough to want everything, but not old enough to have it. At least I have my tunes. I put on my headphones and jammed to the vision of that apple-red, twin turbo Mustang. Now that’s something to stuff your wallet for.
I woke up to the sound of gravel under tires. There, at the end of the long driveway, stood the big old farm house. It had been added on to so many times over the years that it looked like it had been designed by a committee. Steeply pitched roof-lines led to the peaks that jutted up at odd places. Windows looked out at nothing from random spots on the walls. It had a full length porch, which was fine except during midwestern winters. I’m sure the house was white at one time, like during the Pre-Cambrian Era, but now it was the same gray as the sky and the ground. The barn out back came into view as we approached. Wind whipped a fine white mist of snow, obscuring details and washing out colors. It made me break out in a cold sweat. Heaven help us!
We trudged out into the cold, and up the steps to the front door. Dad unlocked it, and we steeped into the dark interior. Susan flipped the light switch, but nothing happened, except for the echo of the click. Welcome home! It was just as cold inside as it was outside. I shivered and turned to go back out, saying, “I’ll wait in the van, while you guys warm this place up.”
Dad straightened, “Not so fast, Greg. You help me out in the basement. It won’t kill you, you’ve done it before.” And so, I’d been drafted!
We descended into the dungeon. I did little-kid duty, holding up the flashlight while Dad puffed on his hands and muttered as he screwed in the electrical fuses one at a time. We could hear motors start up, and an occasional “Oh”, from upstairs, so I knew the house was waking up. The basement light flared up on the last fuse.
Then we went over to the Demon. It was the big, old oil-burning furnace that has always scared me. We lay on the floor and Dad flipped open the panel on the side. He fiddled with its innards while I snaked my arm in through a hole to give him more light. I had to bend both elbows to get the light just right. Did I mention that I had only one elbow on that arm? That explained the cramp that spread slowly up to my shoulder.
Dad took forever to get the pilot light lit. I thought my arm would stay permanently bent! Oh well, I was sure I would have an exciting future… in the circus.
We were both leaning close, and peering intently at the flickering pilot light, when there was a click and a hiss. Before we could move, the big burner roared to life. Flames shot out and we both jumped back. Dad looked at me with a big grin and smoking eyebrows. “I think we’re in business,” he said, and bounded up the stairs. Man, who’s the kid here?
Soon the house was bustling. Mom unpacked the food in the kitchen, while the rest of us staked out the bedrooms and dragged in our suitcases. Dwarves hammered on the pipes, and the radiators steamed as heat crept into the house’s bones.
Late that night, I woke to hear the wind howling, as if in anger, against the window. Ah, Wisconsin in winter. Paradise! I nestled down into my slightly musty bed. Dad would take care of it.
The next morning dawned. Well it didn’t exactly dawn. Let’s just say that when I woke up, the wind was still blowing, but now I could see out the window. Actually, all I could see was the driven white that was lit somehow, but I couldn’t see the source of light to save my life. Snow was everywhere. On the ground. In the air. Swirling up, down, sideways, diagonally. Nothing but snow!
The Squirt burst in and climbed on my bed to point out the obvious. “Hey look, Greg. It’s a blizzard! Cool!”
“Knock before you come in,” I yelled at him and pushed him off my bed. “Now get out of here!”
He looked sad as he said, “Sorry Greg,” and retreated through the door. I burrowed back under the covers. Perfect day to sleep.
Around lunch time, sleeping and staring at the snow had lost their fascination, so I went downstairs. Susan and the Squirt were doing a puzzle. She looked bored. He looked squirmy. Yup, I could tell that being trapped in the house all day would be like riding in the van, except without the excitement of dead trees going by.
I ducked into the kitchen. Mom and Dad were sitting in there talking and reading. I made myself a huge sandwich and stepped back into the living room to eat it, and look out the window.
The Squirt saw my sandwich and immediately said, “Hey Greg, make one for me, huh? Please?”
I wasn’t in the mood for him today. Or any other day for that matter. “I’m eating, okay?” I said.
“When you’re done? Please?” he persisted.
Squirt looked at me pleadingly. “Okay. When I’m done with this one,” I said.
Of course, as soon as I took my last bite, the Squirt was all over me like scum on a pond. Susan beat a quick retreat. She turned around and mouthed a silent thanks. Yeah, well, she is my twin. I have to help her out once in a while.
Ten minutes later, the Squirt and I were working on the puzzle. He was busy dripping half his sandwich onto himself, and everything else around him, while trying to jam pieces together that didn’t fit. I just gave up and watched him. I had to say it. “You can be pretty disgusting, you know that?”
“What?” he asked, as he licked mustard off his fingers, and the puzzle, and the table, and his shirt. By then, I wasn’t going to touch anything near him. I stood and headed for my room. Of course the Squirt was right on my heels.
“Whatcha doin’ now? Huh, Greg?” he asked.
He backed up a few feet as I wheeled around and said in my mean voice, “Look. I just want to listen to some music. Why don’t you play with your Gameboy or something?” I didn’t wait for a reaction. I just went to my room and shut the door behind me.
Not long after that, there was a tentative knock on my door. Guess who? The Squirt poked his head in and said, “Mom said I should come to you and we should find something to do together… sorry.”
Oh no! This wouldn’t do. I got up and stormed past him and went down to the kitchen. I barged in taking, “Look Mom, can’t we go to the mall or something? This is getting pretty boring.”
Dad calmly said, “Don’t talk to your mother that way. We have to wait till the storm passes. We couldn’t see 10 feet if we went out there now.”
I was shocked. “Well, when are we going to buy all the Christmas presents?”
He gestured at the window. “Nothing we can do till it lets up, Greg.”
“Some Christmas this is going to be…”
Mom interrupted me and said, “There’s a Monopoly set in the big cabinet in the living room. Why don’t you get that out and play a game with Jeff?”
“Oh Mom.” I’d been reduced to pathetic whining.
“He just wants to be with his big brother. Spend a little time with him, he really likes you, you know,” she said. Yeah yeah. Butter me up. I wasn’t going to win this one either. So it was Monopoly for the next 3 hours. Of course, the Squirt wouldn’t trade properties, so all we did was go around and around the board, collecting two-hundred dollars, and paying little twenty-dollar rents along the way.
Time slowed. Minutes crawled by as I watched the wallpaper fade. Finally, I forced the game and changed the rules by saying you could build hotels anywhere you wanted to, just to let him win. I stood up and faked a happy tone. “Good job. You beat me fair and square.” Then I moved to leave the room.
He called out, “Let’s play again.”

I decided to try honesty. “Now way, Dude. Just find something else to do, I need some time alone.” Again, I left without giving him time to reply.

Also read   | Chapter 1  | Chapter 2 |  Chapter 3 |   Chapter 4 |   Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 |
–by  L. M. McCleland