Another snowball, this time it impacted on my shoulder.

I dusted the snow off my coat with my free hand and gave him the biggest stinkeye I could muster.

“How old are you again? Twelve?”

He grinned, teeth white as the snow he gathered.

“Old enough to make you come, young enough to make you hate me for it.”

“Oh jeez,” I muttered, shaking my head, and turned around.

Bam.

Snowball to the back of my head.