"Well, this sucks ass," Clyde says, adjusting the antenna on the top of my box TV.
"It's because it's snowing outside. We always have bad reception when it's snowing," Nora grumbles from the couch. Her arms folded across her chest as she pouts.
"I don't want to miss the ball drop." Luna walks up to the TV and takes over, fiddling with the antenna.
I walk over to the window, watching the snow fall lightly over the ice-covered lake. It's light and fluffy, but sometimes even the lightest snow will mess with the reception on our TV.
"You got it!" Clyde shouts, and soon I hear the crackling voices shouting over the TV.
I turn around and see the fuzzy screen making out the massive shiny ball in New York City. There isn't much time left. It has to be close to midnight.
I look at Luna, and she's watching the TV with a rosiness in her cheeks and a smile pulling her lips up. Her straight white teeth shine as she talks with Nora. Her dress is long, all the way to her ankles. I know underneath her dress she's wearing long wool socks that slide up her calves, and her worn brown boots that go up to her knees.
She's a lot like her mom in the way she dresses. Long flowing dresses, long flowing hair. Luna has the hippy blood in her, but it looks good on her.
I want to kiss her.
I want to kiss her when the clock strikes twelve. I want to kiss her minutes before and I want to kiss her for minutes after, but I don't know how to walk up to her and lay my lips on hers without making a fool of myself.
"I brought something," she says, bending over to reach into her purse. She pulls out a small white paper, and I realize what it is instantly.
"You brought a joint?" I laugh. She's never shown interest in smoking weed or drinking for that matter.
She shrugs. "It's New Year's Eve."
Like that's enough of an answer.
"Anyone have a light?" she asks, swinging the paper around. The guys look at her, enthralled by the joint. We've smoked once or twice, but not enough for me to want to buy some for myself.
My mom wouldn't be too happy either.
"We should go out on the deck," Nora suggests.
I point at her as I walk to the kitchen to grab a pack of matches. "You aren't smoking."
She plants her hands on her hips. "Uh, yeah I am."
I grunt my displeasure and go to our kitchen, opening the drawer and pulling out a spare pack of matches with an ace symbol on it. My parents always hoard packs of matches when they go to the casino for some reason. I couldn't explain why. They don’t even smoke.
Everyone is huddled on the back deck when I get back to the living room. Luna holds the joint between her fingers, poised to her lips for me to light. I slide on my shoes and step outside. Walking up to her, I stare at her a moment. She stares back at me, her gray eyes in the nighttime sky nearly glowing, looking translucent, like a liquefied silver or mercury as she beams up at me.
I strike the match, lighting up her eyes and her pale face. Her eyes turn gold beside the yellow flame. I cup my hand around the joint and watch the tip grow a bright orange. She sucks on the joint, her eyes going wide before she pulls it out of her mouth and starts coughing. She coughs and coughs until there are tears streaming down her face, rivers of mascara trailing from her cheeks to her chin.
I take it from her, knowing from that one hit she's had enough. I take a hit and pass it around, skipping over my sister. She scowls at me fiercely, but all I do is give her a shrug.
She doesn't need this shit.
Luna wanders over to the edge of the deck, her back to us as she watches the snow fall over the water. Snowflakes flitter into her dark hair. The blackness splotched with crystals of white snow.
She looks angelic.
When I hear the countdown from twenty start inside the house, my feet walk of their own accord. They wander over to Luna, my shoes crunching against the snow. I wrap my arm around her waist. She looks at me, her eyes glazed red and her smile loose. I can feel her counting down in her head, every second inching just a little bit closer to me.
Three.
Two.
One.