The Summer of Winters Read Online Free Page A

anymore.”
    “I hear ya. A lot of the kids at my old school had divorced parents, too.”
    I neglected to mention that my parents weren’t technically divorced; my dad was just gone .
    “Is that the school up ahead?” Paige asked.
    “Yeah, that’s Central.”
    Central Elementary School sat on the corner of Montgomery and Johnson Streets, a long building of red brick built in an L shape with some mobile units out back. It had a small playground that consisted of two jungle-gyms, a slide, one basketball hoop, a swing set with only four swings, and an open field where we played kickball. It was a place I dreaded seeing during the school year, but on summer break—emptied of students—it didn’t look so bad.
    We rode our bikes onto the playground and stopped by the metal jungle-gym that looked like a complicated knot of pipes. It reached up about twelve feet, embedded into the hard ground, no sand or wood chips.
    “Race you to the top,” Paige said, jumping off her bike and popping down her kickstand with a foot before scaling the bars with the agility of a monkey. She was already at the top by the time I got off my bike, letting it just fall over on its side.
    I normally didn’t like to climb to the top of the jungle-gym, as heights tended to make me feel queasy, but I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of chicken. So I swallowed down my fear and made it to the very top, perching myself on a bar next to her, refusing to look down.
    We sat in silence for a few moments, a warm breeze catching Paige’s curls and making them dance around her head, reminding me of that snake-headed woman I’d read about in some book of mythology. I sat rigidly, as if the slightest movement might send me crashing to the ground below, but Paige seemed to have an ease about her, as if she were sitting in her favorite rocking chair at home.
    “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said after a while, “but this is kind of a pitiful excuse for a playground.”
    I surveyed the area and had to admit to myself that she was right, not that I’d ever given it much thought before. I usually spent recess sitting on the two-foot high brick wall that surrounded the flagpole, reading a book.
    “I’m not bragging or nothing, but at my school in Columbia we had a much better playground. Had see-saws and a merry-go-round and everything.”
    “They got some of that stuff over at Thompson Park,” I said.
    “Thompson Park? Where’s that at?”
    “Down by the Public Library.”
    Paige rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t know where the Public Library is, now do I? Is it far?”
    “Not really, just a few more blocks.”
    “Well, what are we doing here? Let’s go to Thompson Park.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t like to go there; I like it here better.”
    “How come?”
    “There’s usually a bunch of kids at the park.”
    “And that’s bad?”
    I started fidgeting on the bar, felt like I was slipping and held on tight, even clinching my butt as if maybe I could get a better grip with my cheeks. “I just don’t like crowds.”
    “Mike, what’s wrong? You can tell me.”
    I considered it but then shook my head. “No, you’ll make fun of me.”
    “Will not, I swear,” Paige said, taking her forefinger and making an X over her heart.
    “It’s just, well, I don’t have…” I was going to say any friends , but at the last moment I changed my mind and finished, “many friends.”
    “You got one more today than you did yesterday,” Paige said with a smile, reaching out and squeezing my hand before she started the quick climb down. “Now let’s go.”
    I hesitated a few seconds, staring down at my hand where she’d touched me, then I followed.
     
    ***
     
    Thompson Park was indeed as crowded as I had expected. As we coasted our bikes down Union Street, I thought all the kids running about looked like a swarm of ants. The swings, the slide, the merry-go-round, the sandbox; all seemed occupied. There were even some