I know my town as boring, depressing, and lonely, despite the tiny walled place being filled with people. Every day I wake up there and wish I was anywhere else. But, given the wind blown wasteland of the tundra is the only "anywhere else" — no trees or buildings in sight, there's not a lot of choice. Unfortunately, here the people never change, nor does the weather, or the stores, or what they sell, nothing. So instead of heading into the town square, I wander along the ice wall, the dark sky reflecting the discontent in my chest.

 

Wind whips my hair around my face and into my eyes, biting through my sweater and making me shiver. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a movement and glance up. Sitting on the ledge above me, kicking his feet back and forth deftly, is Wye.

 

"Bee!" He calls, waving down at me.

 

I don't know how he picked up that nickname, since only a few close friends used to call me that and I haven't talked to them in ages. There's no way he would know them, he doesn't live in my town. I'm not exactly sure where he lives, since there isn't anywhere else to live. I only ever see him here.

 

He beckons me over. I crunch over the sugary snow, patchy from footsteps, skate blades, and wind, and climb up next to him. Wye looks the same as always; bright, cheerful eyes and short, brown hair, sprinkled with the lightly falling snow. I rub my gloved hands on my thick wool pants. His navy jeans and mossy green hoodie can't possibly be warm enough, but he doesn't seem to care. Goosebumps form on my legs immediately.

 

"Look, there's reindeer." There's a smile in his voice, and he points into the town square at a couple of deer pawing the ground of their stable, next to the general store advertising fluffy socks.

 

"They aren't actually reindeer," I tell him. They're just regular deer with some extra fluff and multicoloured bells around their necks. I don't really understand why the store does that when everyone knows it's fake.

 

"They probably aren't any happier than you that they aren't real," he says.

 

It's a strange thing to say, but I realize he's most likely right. That velcro-fluff around their necks can't be very comfortable. I wouldn't enjoy pretending to be something others tended to see as more interesting than myself either. It wouldn't help my self esteem, I know that. Poor deer. 

 

Wye studies me closely before asking, "What's up?"

 

"Huh?" I say, turning my gaze away from the decorated deer.

 

"You look all gloomy. Any reason?"

 

I hesitate before gesturing vaguely at the square. "I hate this place. Everything about it. The people suck, there's never anything new or interesting, and..." I trail off.

 

"Why do you keep going there, then?" He asks.

 

"Where else would I go? The whole place is dismal, but it's all there is."

 

"You could make somewhere else to go."

 

I blink. Make somewhere else? What could he possibly mean by that? How can I make somewhere to go? The only places I know are the town and the other side of the wall. I glance behind us at the desolate tundra. Not only is there nothing there for me, there's actually just nothing.

 

He bumps my shoulder. "You don't have to literally make a new place. I mean, when I look at the town square, I don't see anything bad about it at all." He stares ahead, lifting his chin as his breath puffs before him in a billowing cloud. "The reindeer are pretty cute, and..." He nods to a shop with a big bright window. "The cookie store sells tasty stuff."

 

"How can you tell it's tasty?" I frown. 

 

"Can't you smell it?" Wye takes a deep breath. "Cinnamon and chocolate and... other stuff! Also, the colours on the signs are nice, the fountain has pretty carvings on it, and the frozen water sparkles in the light. It all makes the square feel kind of magical. Don't you think?"

 

I understand what he's saying, and I really try to see it. I stare at the cookie store and spot the man who lives in the house next to me. He has fish breath and wears the same tattered grey jacket day in and day out. He always frowns when he sees me and mutters about "kids these days". I try to avoid him, but he sits on his porch most of the time, so it's pretty much impossible. At the fountain, the woman I know from the tram is barking at a couple who were holding hands and now are backing away. Her shrill voice carries over to us at the wall, even if we can't make out what she's saying. Not that I have to. Years of having her sit in my vicinity on the way to and from school has given me all the information I need. Whatever she's saying, it's always pushy and unpleasant. In front of the "reindeer" pen, a group of teens have gathered. They laugh and shout, holding their hands out to the animals. I recognize them as the group I used to hang out with; damaging and disrespectful to everything and everyone that has the misfortune of crossing their path. Their incessant noise is spooking the deer and making them all clump up so I can barely distinguish one from the next.

 

"No..." Wye says slowly and I look at him.

 

"What?" I ask. "I'm looking at it."

 

"You're not. Look at the square. Think about what I said earlier."

 

I shake my head a little before pointing my gaze back in the town square's direction. The square. What is there to see? The walkway is cracked and covered in snow. The sign for the store next to the cookie place is bright green and reads "plants" and its door has gold leaf designs painted all over it. And what had Wye said earlier? About the cookies? I sniff the air. Hints of cinnamon and chocolate are mixed in with the wind. I breathe a little deeper, the cold burning my nostrils. Coffee, too. A smile tugs at my lips. It's nice.

 

"There you go," Wye grins. "Now you see the square."

 

I think I'm starting to get what he means. Squinting, I can kind of see the big eyes and fluffy ears of the not-reindeer, and the little magic sparkle in the frozen fountain water. "Yeah," I nod. "I see it."

 

"Now what about the other people?"

 

Feeling a bit like a kid playing I-spy, I try to focus on people I don't detest. There's a kid about my age with a big rainbow toque who is rolling some snow into a ball with matching rainbow mittens. She throws the ball at another girl who's hiding in her oversize coat, arms up to block it. I've never talked to either of them, but I've seen them around occasionally. They seem fun. Three boys sit on the opposite side of the fountain from the woman, all crowded around a magazine, pointing at the pages excitedly. They also take the tram with me. I wonder what they're reading about. A single person skips through the square, features entirely obscured apart from the dark braids of hair that escape from in between their toque and scarf. I see them quite often in the general store. I'm always jealous of their bright blue boots.

 

"Yes, what about them?" I say.

 

Wye sighs a little and leans back on his gloved hands. "Why didn't you notice them first?" he asks. "Why only the bad people?"

 

"Er... cuz I know the bad people? I thought it was normal to focus on those you recognize."

 

He grins a little. "And there's your problem."

 

I blink at him.

 

"Those people, they shape your world. When you looked at them, you looked upset. When you looked at the square itself, and the other people, you smiled," Wye explains. "The place isn't the problem, Bee. Your focus is."

 

"But," I frown. "Those people, the ones I know, aren't they ‘shaping the place'? Synonymous with it?" I ask.

 

"What if you made the other people synonymous with it?" He tilts his head towards me a little. "Replace the people who make you miserable, with people who could make you happy. You don't know them yet, so they might not suck. Maybe then, you can reform your view of the town."

 

I stare at him. My heart lifts with something like hope. His warm grey eyes give me a meaningful look.

 

I glance back at the square. "Make somewhere else to go."

 

---

 

Maddie Somer has been a youth member at the Alexandra Writers' Centre Society since 2022 and is a part of the Novelmancers Novel Writing Club.