Darian Bennett

It was a very grey day.

My shoes slapped against the grey pavement as my eyes watched the cloudy, grey sky. Sure, there were browns, such as the dead grass and the bare trees, but the dull, green moss that crawled over everything blended the colors into a shade so uninteresting that it may as well be grey. I was thankful for my own cherry red coat, which was the only thing that seemed to keep me from going blind at the dullness of it all.

I wore my coat unbuttoned, despite it being winter. It wasn't very cold at all. I lived almost as far south as you could get in the US, in a small town in Georgia; it was one of those towns where everybody knew each other. It wasn't often cold here, and it nearly never snowed. I remembered how I used to write to Santa Claus every year, asking to see a white Christmas just once in my life, but every year remained grey, and like all children eventually do, I grew out of Santa Claus. Soon after went the Easter Bunny, but the Tooth Fairy took longer; I was very late in losing all of my baby teeth, you see, but I figured it all out when one year, my parents forgot to leave a quarter under my pillow or even take the tooth. I still got a dollar from my grandmother, though, which softened the blow. Cash was cash, no matter where you got it from.

I finally reached my destination, which was a neighbor's house just down the street from my own. Thankfully, I lived in one of those nice, big neighborhoods where every house was majestic and unique. I had been to those quaint neighborhoods with white picket fences and houses that looked exactly alike, and I couldn't understand for the life of me how not to get lost in those. Besides, all of the sameness would eventually blend into the dullness, and all would be even more grey. If I saw anymore grey, I was going to be sick!

Well, there were exceptions to every rule, and I couldn't help but smile as a familiar grey-coated cat slunk towards me. I knelt down and reached my hand out to Ashley - a tomcat, and don't you forget it - who immediately rubbed his head against it affectionately, purring loudly. He was a fat cat, but he was strong and well-groomed, his glossy fur seeming almost silver, glistening in what little light peeked through the clouds.

After a minute or two of cuddling, I reluctantly drew my hand back and stood up. Ashley rubbed against my leg and mewed in protest, but it was getting late. I needed to get home before long, so I had to hurry with my job there. I began the trek up the steep driveway to the garage, Ashley by my side the entire way, weaving between my legs whenever he got the chance. The neighbors weren't home, of course. They were on vacation along with half of the neighborhood, probably relaxing at some beach, which was why I was there. I was the neighborhoods pet-sitter.

I typed in the key code for the garage and rushed immediately into my work in a corner in the back. I grimly noticed that it was grey in there, too, save for a couple of tennis balls and bikes. The corner was stocked with all that I'd ever need to feed Ashley for probably a year, and a note stuck on the spelled out exactly where everything was and exactly how many treats I was allowed to mix in with his kibble, not that I really needed the reminder. I had been their pet-sitter for years. "Are you hungry?" I asked the cat. He meowed loudly in reply and rubbed his head against the bag of cat food. I filled the bowl and he began devouring the kibble ravenously.

I knelt down to pet him while he ate, talking to him - or to myself - for no particular reason. "Someone else is coming to feed you tomorrow. I'm going to go on vacation. I'll be gone in just a few hours, actually, but don't worry. You'll like the other person just fine. I'm your favorite, though, right?" I cooed. There was no response from him, not that I really expected one. Nothing but the crunching of the cat food. I laughed inwardly at myself for acting like he could understand me, but sometimes I just needed to make sound, to talk even if no one could really hear me. Eventually, though, I gave up the talking and started singing instead.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose..."

I had only just started the Christmas song, enjoying the great acoustics of the concrete garage when I was rudely interrupted by the rain beginning to pour outside. I frowned at the thought of walking back home in that grey haze. The water would be unbelievable cold this time of year, and I shuddered, imagining already the drops of rain soaking my hair, running in my eyes, and trickling down my back; my coat didn't have a hood, and I had been stupid enough not to bring an umbrella.

I had mixed feelings about the cold. One one hand, it was crisp and refreshing. On the other, it was bitter and painful. But my general opinion of it was that it just wasn't worth it without the snow.

I looked dismally out the garage door at the rain and then turned back to Ashley. "I guess Jack Frost just doesn't like the taste of our noses," I joked, laughing half-heartedly. He kept eating, and after handing him the required amount of treats - maybe one or two extra because I liked spoiling him - and giving him one last stroke, I buttoned up my coat and reluctantly headed back outside.

I half-shut the garage door behind me, leaving plenty of room for Ashley to wander in and out whenever he pleased, though I couldn't fathom why he would ever want outside in this weather. I hurried down the driveway and to the sidewalk. Normally, I would grab the mail before I left, but I had come to do my job early that day before the mailman could do his job. I tried not to run through the rain, having read somewhere that running soaks you more than walking, though I was sorely tempted to at several times during my walk. What few trees lined the sidewalk offered little shelter, as bare as they were.

It only took a few minutes to reach my front porch, easily recognizable by the white columns that supported a balcony above it. I shed my soaked coat and shoes as I rushed through the door. Once I had wiped the raindrops from my face and swept my dripping hair away from my eyes, I was greeted with the warm, earthy tones that my house was painted with, accented this time of year with rich, deep red bows and a tall, overstuffed, forest green Christmas tree standing in the living room. I collapsed on the couch by the fireplace, which sadly, was unlit.

My mother was in the kitchen fixing a quick lunch. "How was Ashley today?" she asked, just like she did everyday.

"Fine," I answered, just like I did everyday.

"Are you all packed?"

"Nearly." My mom came around and handed me a hot dog, fresh from the microwave.

"You better hurry up. We're leaving in an hour," she warned.

I waved it off. "I've got everything under control." To prove my point, I took a long, slow bite from my hot dog, knowing that it would annoy her to no end, but my mom was cool. We would banter with each other until the cows came home (whatever that saying meant).

"Alright," she said disbelievingly. "Just remember to pack very warm clothes. It's much colder up in Burgess. It's actually snowing there right now."

Again, I waved it off. I had planned everything out long in advance. While visiting family up North wasn't exactly my idea of a vacation (I would take chilling on the beach with every other kid on school break over Burgess just about any day), I was very excited for all of the snow. A good snow day was long overdue for anywhere in Georgia. I couldn't remember the last time I had built a snowman or had a snowball fight.

I finished my lunch and bolted upstairs to my room for a few moments of peace before we left. My room was decorated very differently from the rest of the house. It was painted a light pink with brightly colored stripes every few inches. There were white shelves on nearly every wall piled high with books and smiling porcelain dolls. A white desk sat in one corner, hidden beneath a laptop, stacks of papers and pens, and a few DVDs. In the center was my queen-sized bed with pink, floral sheets. I preferred these bright colors to the darker ones my parents chose for the rest of the house; it made the atmosphere feel lighter, almost airy, but there were small touches here and there where our tastes agreed: an antique mirror on one wall, the dolls (I could never understand how people considered them creepy), the vintage sheets. This was completely my own space where I could truly relax and be myself in private.

I sighed and jumped onto my bed, expertly dodging the magenta, polka-dotted suitcase on one side and my sleeping cat, who yowled and leapt halfway to the ceiling when I landed. She was a fluffy, brown thing with splotches of orange and white here and there and a tendency to shed over anything and everything, and she absolutely loved my bed...when I wasn't on it. I got the feeling that she would be enjoying herself quite a bit during my absence over the next several days. She darted out the door with a hiss, but she was back before long. Reluctantly, she crept back into the room and curled up beside me.

I stroked her quietly for a long moment (resulting in several handfuls of fur), staring at the ceiling and just thinking. I needed this quiet time to recharge every once in a while. It was very tiring to just be me.

I knew that time was running out, so I sighed and sat up, sending the cat running again. Enough thinking. Hastily, I grabbed the last few things that I needed to pack: my bathroom essentials, some cards and other small games, my laptop and a few Christmas movies. I had to sit on my suitcase to shut it, and it was no small feat getting it downstairs. Before I could jump in the car, though, my dad cleared his throat expectantly and pointed up to my room, the light shining from the crack in the doorway standing out prominently from the darkened household. I smiled apologetically and retraced my steps back to my room, noticing as I entered that my cat had taken up her usual post and didn't even do so much as twitch when I came in.

Amidst the junk burying my desk was a small lamp that I kept on at all times, whether or not I was in my room. My parents insisted that I turn it off on vacations, though, to keep from running up the electric bill. I flipped the little switch, wincing as darkness overtook the room, but it was bearable. Some light managed to find its way through my shuttered windows, illuminating my room enough for me to see. It did, however, paint everything a rather unappealing shade of grey.

I raced out the door, down the stairs, and back to the car, perfectly prepared, rested, and ready to put my best foot forward in meeting the cousins I hadn't seen in many, many years. But a hop, skip, and a pleasant plane-ride later, I was sitting in the back of my uncle's car, leaning my forehead against the chilled window and willing myself not to throw up right then and there. I had an unfortunate tendency to carsickness, and the stifling, stagnant air in the car was certainly less preferable to the absolutely freezing temperatures outside at that very moment. Nevertheless, I politely kept my mouth shut and allowed my dad to converse with his brother, not wanting to bother anyone.

First impressions were everything, and I should know.

Jamie Bennett

It was very late in the day to be asleep, but with it being Christmas break, I didn't really care. It was normal to be tired of waking up early every day to head to the monotony that is middle school. I was allowed to sleep late on breaks, taking it as some kind of reward for my efforts throughout the year, and rest for what was still to come. So as you can imagine, I was very annoyed when Sophie came bursting into my room with Abby, our greyhound, squealing something unintelligible and jumping up and down on my bed until I was forced to open my eyes. "Geez, Soph. Can't you leave me alone?" I complained, throwing a pillow at her (and missing by a mile).

She didn't react and continued her harassment by shaking my shoulders excitedly. "Wake up! Wake up! Come on!"

"Sophie, what's going on?"

"Jack's back!" she giggled, hopping off of my bed and pointing to the window. I sat straight up, my interest piqued, and sure enough, he was there, smiling and waving and motioning for us to come outside. "Jack's back! Jack's back!" Sophie chanted, parading around my room.

It had been about two years or so since I first saw Jack Frost, when Pitch Black, the bogeyman, was threatening to take over the world, and I was the last light on the globe, so they said, the one child left who still believed in the Guardians whole-heartedly. The Guardians consisted of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Sandman, and now, Jack Frost, and I helped them defeat Pitch and save all of the children in the world, an impressive accomplishment at age ten, if I do say so myself. Since then, Jack had become somewhat of a big brother to me, and although he spent much of the year with the other Guardians, I got to see him every time he brought snow to Burgess.

I laughed and ran to my closet, throwing on thick coats and snow pants over my pajamas, careful not to forget my hat or gloves. "We don't want Jack Frost nipping at your nose," my mom always said. If she only knew...

My mom couldn't see Jack, and neither could most anybody else. Adults typically grew out of the Guardians and stopped being able to see them, but Jack had trouble being seen by children and adults alike. To be seen, you had to be believed in, and most kids had no idea that Jack even existed. I had been like that once. Even when I had continued to believe in the other Guardians, I had no clue who Jack Frost was.

"Who's Jack Frost?" I had once asked my mom.

"No one, honey. It's just an expression," she had once answered.

That was a long time ago. The important thing was that I believed now and that I would never stop believing for as long as I lived. I also took special pride in the fact that I had been the first ever to see him.

I raced downstairs, Sophie and Abby at my heels, and was almost to the door when Mom's voice behind us said, "And where do you think you're going?"

I halted and was crashed into by Sophie before the both of us were barreled into by Abby, resulting in a strange mess of tangled limbs by the door. Sophie whined as we got un-jumbled and stood up. "We were just heading outside to play in the snow. Looks like Jack Frost is back." I liked throwing out sentences like that, knowing that she would never take them seriously. It gave me a satisfaction similar to the kind when you're let in on a big secret.

"No, you're not," she scolded, prompting another whine from Sophie. "Your father should be back in just a little while with your aunt, uncle, and cousin, and afterward, we're going out to eat with them, so I want the both of you looking your best."

I groaned. Was that really today? "Can't we just go outside for a little bit?" I begged. Mom frowned in that way that mothers do to let you know that you've just said the wrong thing.

"What did I just say? Go get dressed. Now," she ordered tartly. Sophie and I dragged our feet back up the stairs.

As I entered my room through the door, Jack did the same through the window. I'd made it a habit to always leave it unlocked, should he ever wish to come in. "Come on? What gives?" he asked, flying over to my bed.

"Can't today. Some family's over, and Mom wants me looking nice for them," I grumbled, taking a seat on the bed next to him.

"What? Not even for a little bit?"

"I tried, but no."

Jack sighed and leaned against his crooked staff. "Do you know anything about these relatives?"

"Well, it's my cousin Darian and her parents, but I haven't seen her in a really long time. I think I was five at the last family reunion, and she was eight. I guess that would make her about fifteen, now."

"And that's all you really know?"

"Why so curious?"

"Hey, your family is my family!"

I laughed. "That is true. I do remember that Darian was fun. She laved playing games and making up stories, but that was, like, seven years ago. Who knows if she's changed?"

"Nah, people don't really change," he assured me. "I should know."

"Yeah, you're what now, three-hundred?"

"Three-hundred-and-two," he corrected. "Still as fun as ever!"

"I wonder if me and Darian will still get along." I paused a moment in thought, then added, "I wonder if you two will like each other."

"Do you think she's a believer?" Jack asked, sounding almost hopeful, but I think he knew the answer ahead of time. It wouldn't be any shock to him if she wasn't. That much was for sure.

"Well, she's fifteen, so I think it would be a bit of a long shot."

"Then, we'll just have to make her one! More fun for everybody!"

"Jamie! Sophie! They're here!" my mom called from downstairs.

"I should get going," Jack said, already halfway out the window. "I'll see you in a bit. Let me know how the whole cousin thing works out." The wind suddenly picked up, and he was gone in the blink of an eye, staff and all. Once he was gone, I shut my window against the cold and hurried to get dressed and presentable.

I nearly tripped while running down the stairs. My conversation with Jack had gotten me excited to meet my cousin after so long. The thought of having another companion who believed was great motivation. I had made it my mission in the past few years to gain as many believers for Jack as possible, trying my hardest to help him with the whole Guardian thing. I was met with mixed results. Some people just refused to believe no matter what, but no cousin of mine was going to miss out on meeting him if I had anything to say about it.

The living room was one big hug-fest. Sophie and I were embraced at every turn and greeted with old sayings like, "Look how much you've grown!" We were introduced to Aunt Ruth and Uncle Cody and finally, Darian, who was sitting stiffly on the couch wearing a very unbecoming grimace. She looked quite a bit different from the scrawny, pig-tailed girl I remembered from the reunion, but it was definitely her.

She still had the same round, childish face with big blue eyes, and she gave me a friendly, white-toothed smile that I vaguely remembered when I approached. She had grown from being just scrawny to simply petite, and she wore a long, green sweater over black leggings, her bright red coat having been discarded over the arm of the couch. Her hair was the same chocolate brown as my own, and it was pulled back into a high, wavy ponytail. "Hey, Jamie," she greeted in a honeyed, soprano voice.

"Hey," I said back. Yes, this was definitely Darian, but there was just something...off about her. The smile seemed almost forced; it didn't quite reach her eyes, and through the thin veil of makeup that she wore, I could see that her face had gone quite pale with an almost greenish tint, though I attributed that to the sweater. Abby suddenly jumped onto the couch between us, nosing her furiously. "No, Abby! Down!"

"It's quite alright," Darian assured me, but her tone sounded a little strained. "She probably just smells cat on me." She reached up and scratched Abby behind the ears, her favorite spot, and she calmed down almost instantly. "I pet-sit, so I spend a lot of my time around dogs and cats, though I actually prefer cats, to be perfectly honest."

Before I could say anything else, she turned to me suddenly and said, "I'm sorry, but where's the bathroom?" Wondering why she was apologizing for it, I pointed her in the right direction. Without so much as a polite "thank you" (though I assumed that it had something to do with the hand covering her mouth), she bolted. A few seconds later, her loud coughing and retching into the toilet down the hall interrupted the pleasant conversation that had been going on (that I hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention to), and the adults rushed over to her aid.

Our dinner plans were cancelled that night, and I found a new seat across from the couch that Darian was now laying across, looking very drained and mumbling apologies to everyone.

"If you had said something, I would have let you sit in the front," our dads both said (at different times).

"I didn't want to be rude," she admitted sheepishly.

My mom came over and placed a glass of ginger ale on the table behind the couch. "Here you go. Are you okay? Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm really sorry about this. You don't have to cancel dinner over me."

"It's no trouble at all. We'll just eat here for tonight and go out tomorrow if you're up to it. What was I thinking, anyway? I should have known you all would be tired after the flight."

"I should be fine by then. The flight was actually wonderful. It's just a little carsickness. Thank you again." Darian took a tentative sip of the ginger ale. Where before her face had been colorless. it now blushed crimson. She was obviously very uncomfortable with all of the attention and was grateful when the adults retired to the dining room to let her rest, which struck me as odd. As children, she always seemed to have a habit of drawing attention to herself, whether she was singing or playing, and if I remembered correctly, she had relished in it. Was Jack positive when he had said that people don't really change?

My first impression of Darian: she was very odd.

(Okay, guys, here's the first chapter. I want to hear your first impressions of it in the reviews before I continue, if you don't mind. Here, I want you to sort of get a sense of who Darian is. I promise, there will be a lot more of Jack later on. Please, review and let me know if you like this and if you like her. Love to you all!)