The first time I saw him was also the first day Texas had seen snow in almost twenty years. We got plenty of rain, a fair amount of sleet, and enough ice to know what cold was, but this was the first time I'd seen snow in the flesh. I might have already been a whopping eleven years old, but I shrieked with joy when I saw my front lawn covered in more than sludge and mud. Real snow.

My mother could hardly stick me into a jacket and boots before I was outside, jumping shin deep into the white powder. Though, truthfully, it wasn't really powder. Texas gets icy snow, which was fine by me. It stuck together better, allowing me to make a feeble attempt of a snowman. Frosty was my muse, but my snowman looked much more like a little lump of snow with twigs stuck in his head. I named him "Vlad the Impaler", after the inspiration for Dracula. I was very proud of myself for remembering that fun fact my teacher had told the class. I was a nerdy little kid.

I suppose the first time I realized he was there was after I dug out a hole to call my snow fort. I was patting the walls, trying to make the snow taller than my head. I was sitting down, so I figured it wouldn't take much snow, but I was sorely disappointed when I realized it would take most of the snow around me. I hesitated to take any more snow off the ground, since the ground looked muddy and ugly underneath.

"Drat," I said to myself, feeling particularly bold from being outside so long. I heard a quiet, dark chuckle.

"And thus, the child who probably hasn't ever seen snow realizes she's screwed."

I froze, resisting the urge to run back inside and hide. I took a quick peek around me, trying not to be too obvious. I finally spotted the person belonging to the voice. And I was surprised with what I found.

The boy was sitting up in a tree! He was perched precariously on the edge, barely balancing. He was wearing jeans and a hoody pulled over his head, leaving his face in shadows. He cradled a long stick in his hand, swishing it in the air disinterestedly. As I watched the wind seemed to bend around him, causing the snow to flow in a strange way. It appeared to pick him up, carrying him down. He stepped off, landing lightly on the ground, as easily as most people would step off an escalator. I tried not to stare, but it's very hard to not stare at a person who just flew through the air. Instead, I kept my head down, as my mom instructed me, trying not to draw unneeded and possibly violent attention. I prayed that my mom would glance out the window, because there was no way she'd hear me scream.

"And she's left with a choice." The man sounded bored as he walked slowly around me. "Ruin the perfectly smooth snow, and have some real fun. Or continue to marvel at how nice it looks. Decisions, decisions. So what's your decision, little one?"

Suddenly it sounded like a much more important problem than it should have been. My eleven year old mind just simply couldn't handle it. I had to know what to do, and it seemed that this strange boy would hold the only honest answer. It was a matter of life or death, I justified. Snow didn't come every day. So, I blurted out, without much though, "And what would you do?"

The man almost jumped out of his skin. He fell back, his hood flying back as he did. As he landed on his butt in the snow, I gasped. His hair was stark white, like snow, but shiny. His eyes were ice blue, and his skin was pale. I came from Texas, so I was used to tans, either real or artificial. Pale skin wasn't something you saw, especially when you live in a place where people spend every daylight hour they could in the sun.

I waited, expecting for him to answer me. Instead, he sat in front of me, mouth opening and closing in a way that resembled a fish. I watched curiously as he opened his mouth again. He was breathing hard, as though he had been running, even though he had only fallen over. I grew impatient, clucking my tongue and demanding, "Well? Which is it?"

He let out an insane sounding laugh, and I questioned my decision to speak at all. I leaned back on my toes, ready to stand and run if needed. Maybe talking to the insane man who flew down from a tree wasn't my best call. What was I talking about? Of course that was a bad call!

"She can see me." He whispered to himself. He laughed again. "You- You can see me!"

"Um," I was slightly freaked out by the white haired person in front of me. Cold to hot, crazy to- well, no. The crazy part was pretty consistent. I might have only been eleven, so granted, all boys were a little cuckoo, but this was beyond cooties. He was honest to goodness nuts. I'm pretty sure he was my mother's definition of 'high and crazy.'

His stupid grin suddenly dropped from his face, a look of confusion replacing it. "You can see me, right?"

He whipped around his head, searching amongst the snow for goodness knows what. I inched backwards, trying to think about how long it would take me to sprint to my front door. With the standing up, I estimated ten seconds. But then there was the opening the door. One second. Closing the door and locking. Another second. Not to mention, this guy had some long legs. He'd catch me, no doubt. Where was my mother when I needed her? Usually she was hovering over my shoulder, making sure I didn't do anything stupid.

"Would you stop that?" I snapped. His frenzied movements were making me fidget.

"You can see me!" He almost sounded accusing.

"No, duh." Give a round of applause for eleven-year-old sass. I expected a scowl, which is what I usually got from my mother when I sassed her, but instead the boy just grinned. I decided I needed to move this along. I was getting cold, hot cocoa was waiting inside, and there was no way I was staying out here with a wacko who thought I was blind. "I've got to go."

I stood and turned, running inside as fast as I could. As I shut the door, I glanced back and saw the boy, standing in the yard, a goofy grin on his face. I shivered, no longer comfortable with a weirdo standing in my snow. Time to get my parent.

"Momma!" I ran into the kitchen, finding my mother standing over the stove top, stirring in milk into her chocolate. She was humming softly, swaying side to side as she stirred. She turned and smiled at me.

"Chocolate should be done in a few minutes. Why don't you get a mug?"

I didn't have time for chocolate, as much as I wish I did. There was a mental institution escapee lose in our yard, and I couldn't be distracted by chocolaty sweets. "Momma, it's important!"

"Hmm?" My mother was still humming, but she stopped and turned around. She took one look at my agitated expression and set down the spoon, a concerned look on her face. "Bekah, what's wrong?"

"There's this strange guy in our yard and he thinks I'm blind and he talked to me and I think he's a killer and," I took a moment to take in a huge breath, before going on. "And you need to go get rid of him because he's creeping me out."

My mom's worried look quickly changed to an alarmed one, and she pushed me behind her before walking to the front door. She looked out the front window, eyes searching for the white haired boy. She stood there for a few moments, before turning back to me, confused. "Honey, there isn't anyone out there."

I pushed in front of her, peeking out the window. "He's right there! Mom, he flew! He has powers, I saw them."

My mom looked where I pointed, which was practically in front of her face, but it was as though she didn't see him. She just let out a relieved sigh, and turned towards me with a concerned look. "Sweetie, you've been out in that cold too long. Let's go get some cocoa."

She walked back to the kitchen, mumbling about "magic powers" and "flying."

I turned and glared at my mom's back, and then yanked open the front door, stomped down the front steps, and marched myself over to the offending boy in my yard. He watched me, and even though he had been standing out here the whole time, he still had a stupid look on his face. I clutched my jacket tighter to me, and gave him my best killing glare.

"Who are you, and why is my mom acting as though you don't exist?"

"I'm Jack Frost."

"Why can't my mom see you?" I demanded.

"Because, I'm invisible."

Idiot. "I'm eleven, not stupid. I can see you, same as you can see me. So you can't be invisible."

"But you're the oddity here. Most people walk right through me." He smiled at me, as though being seen was the most amazing thing in the world.

I was angry. At my mom for being blind, at this boy for being irritating, and at the fact that he was playing a stupid prank. So I stood up tall, and like my true sixth grade self, commanded, "Prove it."

Jack grinned at me. "Fine."

I shrieked as he grabbed hold of my arm, and took off. It was only a few yards to the door, but even short distances are scarier when you're flying several feet off the ground. Upon reaching the porch, he unceremoniously dumped me onto the doorstep. He swung open the door and walked inside, me jogging after him, trying to compensate for my shorter legs. I reached the kitchen to find him sitting on the counter, waiting for me expectantly.

I eyed my mom's back. Being very quiet, Jack crept up behind her. Looking back, I could see it was all for show, but at the time, I was ready for my mother to realize I had let a stranger into the house, and finally admit she could see him.

He reached out slowly. All his slow, calculated movements were making me anxious, so I finally hissed, "Just do it already!"

"What was that, Bekah?" My mom turned around. She focused on me, not giving Jack even the tiniest look over. "Ready for cocoa?"

She walked over to the cabinet that held the mugs, which just so happened to make her walk right through Jack Frost. I gasped aloud, not entirely sure what just happened. How had my mom walked through another person?

"What?" My mom glanced behind at me, reaching up to get down a mug. "Bekah, you've been acting really strange. Are you okay?"

I nodded quickly, before blurting out that I was going up to my room. I turned and sprinted out of the kitchen with Jack was following me. I sprinted up the stairs, and Jack followed with his long, easy strides. I ran into my room, but he slipped in before I could close the door. He promptly dropped into one of the bean-bags I had on the floor.

"I'm not crazy." I swore as though I was standing in court. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was actually a lot of evidence supporting the crazy thought. "Oh my gosh. I am crazy, aren't I?"

Jack looked worried. "Look- Bekah, right?"

"Its Rebekah for you, creep."

"Right, so Bekah. You aren't crazy, at least I don't think so."

"Don't think so?" My voice broke through a few octaves from that. What did he mean by that? I was eleven, I couldn't be crazy already.

"Well, there's always a possibility-." Jack flashed a smile. As though he was suddenly realizing that his joke had not gone over well, he cussed quietly, causing me to jump.

"Sorry, sorry." He mumbled, looking upset. "I just- okay. I'm not too great with talking to kids, alright? In fact, you'd be the first I've spoken to in a long time. Because- crap. How do I explain this?"

"Just tell me I'm not crazy!" I was beginning to hyperventilate, which was never a good sign. I took several gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Our eyes locked together, me trying to convey how much I needed reassurance.

"You aren't crazy, kid. Come here, I'll show you something." I followed him as he walked across my bedroom, swinging open the doors that lead to a tiny balcony. I didn't usually go out here, since in summer it was too hot, and most other times it was too windy. It isn't easy to concentrate on a book when the winds blowing the pages over. I was extra careful as I stepped out, since it was covered in a thin sheet of ice.

I watched as Jack held out his hand. I was curious as to what he was doing, but tried to stay quiet. The long stick from earlier suddenly came flying around the corner of the house, appearing to be riding the wind currents. It soared straight into Jack's hand, and he snatched it out of the air. He turned towards me, looking excited. "I've never actually gotten to show someone this."

His excitement was contagious, and I started bouncing on my toes in anticipation. He grinned, and then raised the staff in the air, swishing it in a circular motion. I watched in awe as the snow that was falling began to follow his movements. He made it circle tighter and tighter, until they're was a large sphere rotating in the air. He glanced back as though making sure I was paying attention, and then struck the bottom of his staff against the ground.

My mouth fell open as the sphere closed in on itself. As though time was standing still, I watched as it vibrated, pressure building. It seemed to be waiting for some order from Jack, fighting against its need to fall, to obey gravity. I looked at him, breathlessly waiting.

"Ready?" I nodded, smiling, waiting. He didn't make some grand gesture, he simply reached out his staff and let it gently touch the giant snow ball. The snow exploded upward, causing the snow to come down with a renewed vigor. I watched the snow sparkle as it fell, icy whites and blues. I was enchanted. I reached out my hand, letting the flakes fall on my gloves.

"It's beautiful." Jack nodded absently in agreement. "I bet you rock at snow ball fights."

"Absolutely."

"Can we have one?" I asked.

He turned towards me. "There's no way you'll win."

I shook my head. "I don't care. I haven't ever had one before though. Please?"

And so Jack and I had an epic snow ball fight that lasted until I was too cold to close my fingers. He went easy on me, I knew I wouldn't have won otherwise, but he seemed to enjoy playing, even though he had to hold himself back in order for me to have any chance. I assumed that he hadn't ever had kids throw back at him. I ended up having to go inside, with a promise to play with him the next day.

I had three fun filled days with Jack Frost, before he let me know he had to move on. He told me he had to go take his ice powers to other places for a while, but he swore to come back. I cried when he said he had to leave. I had placed Jack Frost on a pedestal, in such a way that young girls idolize their older brothers or cousins. The fact that he was leaving me made me very upset, to a point where I missed out on the last day I'd be able to play with him.

But, thankfully, he didn't leave without saying goodbye. He came and talked to me that night, flying through my balcony door and landing lightly in front of me. I turned to him with a hurt expression.

"Bekah, I'm sorry. But I have to go, at least for a little while." He really did look upset at having to leave.

"But why?" I whined. I realized I was being selfish, but I didn't care. What would it matter if no one else got snow? I would have Jack, who had quickly become my best friend over snow ball fights and snow angels. How could he leave me?

"Other kids need some fun. Besides, I can't stay here. It's already late February. Soon it will be too warm for me to visit. I'll get sick if I stay during spring and summer." He explained quietly. My bottom lip trembled, and I ran into Jack, hugging him tightly.

"You can't go," I sobbed. He patted my head awkward, since I only came to right under his shoulders.

"Believe me, I wish I didn't have to, kid. But I promise I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?"

"When?" I demanded, stepping back so I could see his face.

"Not until late fall, maybe winter?"

My eyes filled up with tears. "That's so long!"

"I know. But I will be back, I promise. Don't lose faith in me, alright?"

I sniffled, looking down at my feet. "Okay."

"Here," Jack stuck his hand into the pockets of his sweat shirt. He pulled out a tiny chain necklace, with a crystal snowflake in the center. I reached out and gently took it from him, cradling it in my hand. It was cool to the touch.

"Thank you." I gave him one more hug, before he had to leave. I walked out with him to the balcony, where he stepped off onto the wind. I waved until I couldn't see him anymore, trying to imprint the image on my mind. After all, it had to last me almost a whole year.

I went back into my room, crawled into bed, and turned off the lamp. I continued to focus on Jack flying away, until I was sure I wouldn't forget it. Agitated, I threw off the covers and tip toed to my desk. I grabbed a sheet of paper, scissors, a pencil, and blue construction paper. I cut out tiny snowflakes, taping them to the page. I drew a tiny man in the sky, silhouetted by a round moon. I cut and taped until I was pleased with the outcome, then scrawled the name 'Jack Frost' at the bottom of the paper. I took a pin and stuck it into my pushpin board. Finally calm, I jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

I fell asleep, and dreamed of a white haired boy flying in the sky.

A/N: So. I think this is going to be more of a prologue. Skip ahead a few years next chapter. And probably make it longer. Thoughts? Criticism? Anything helps!