For a moment the world went silent as Elliott tried to make sense of what had just happened. Seconds ago they’d been on their way home as Puck rattled on about the magic of freezing rain, and now they were staring at the site of a horrible accident. 

This is really happening, Elliott told themself as their mind tried desperately to catch up with events. 

“Shit...” they heard Puck whisper from where he sat on the ground behind them.

Elliott staggered to their feet, wavering as they narrowly avoided slipping on the ice, and fished the phone out of their pocket. They dialed 911 as they began to carefully pick their way across the road. The phone rang.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a voice answered.

“There’s been an accident,” Elliott explained, “On Vista Park Drive, on the east side of the park.” They made their way over to the wreck and around to the driver’s side. The truck had hit the telephone pole in a sideways skid, crumpling the door inward. The pole was still lodged there, obscuring Elliott’s view of the interior

“I understand,” the operator answered, “Help is on the way. Can you explain exactly what happened?”

“They were coming down the hill and skidded out on the ice going around the bend… they hit a telephone pole on the driver’s side… I’m trying to get a look at them now…”  Elliott began to make their way back around to the passenger’s side when the dispatcher interrupted. 

“Please stay clear of the vehicle until the scene has been declared safe.”

“Oh, alright,” said Elliott, and took a few steps back.

The operator continued to ask questions, which Elliott answered mechanically, still not fully believing in what had transpired. At some point they became aware of Puck’s presence, just behind their shoulder. They turned to the boy with alarm, having momentarily forgotten that he was there. 

“Hey, go wait over there,” they told him. “You don’t need to see this.” 

Puck begrudgingly sauntered back across the street to the edge of the park, not bothering to alter his usual gait in acknowledgement of the slick terrain. This went unnoticed, as Elliott’s attention was trained on the man in the truck, who had begun to stir.

“Are there other bystanders there?” the operator asked.

“Just one. A kid,” they explained. 

Soon Elliott could hear the sound of sirens in the distance as they continued to answer the operator’s questions. They thought it wise to retreat to where Puck was standing, given the icy conditions and probable speed of the approaching emergency vehicles. 

The fire truck was the first to arrive, which made sense, considering that there was a fire station about a mile from the park. Elliott was impressed by how quickly everything began to happen as soon as the truck was parked. 

They watched in a daze as road flares were set out, and a group of firefighters began the process of opening up the wrecked vehicle using hydraulic tools. They were in the middle of removing the roof like the truck was a can of sardines when the ambulance arrived. Elliott hugged themself against the cold as they watched, hiding their bare hands in their armpits to protect them from the stinging rain which continued to fall.

One of the fire fighters approached them, carrying blankets.

“Was it you who called it in?” asked the large man.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Elliott.

“Here, bundle up,” the man said, and gave them each a blanket. Elliott half expected Puck to refuse it, but he accepted it without a fuss. 

“Thank you,” said Elliott, and covered their head and shoulders with it.

“Did you see the accident happen?” the man asked.

“More or less…” Elliott answered honestly, then proceeded to give the man their account of what they’d seen. The conversation was brief, there being little information to impart. 

“Thank you,” said the man, once Elliott had answered his questions. “The police should be here soon, and they’ll want to talk to you as well. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, will do,” Elliott agreed as the man walked back over to the crash site. 

“Are you alright?” Puck asked, equal parts concern and sorrow swimming in his dark eyes. He’d been so still and silent that Elliott had, once again, almost forgotten he was there. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” they assured him -- after all, they were the adult. It was their job to be fine, and to look out for their young friend. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve seen worse,” he answered. Elliott wanted to tell him that this was in no way reassuring, but since (as they had so recently remembered) they were being the adult, they reasoned that it wasn’t the kid’s job to reassure them, and instead filed the information away to be addressed at another time.

By the time the police arrived the victim had been extracted from the crash and the EMTs were loading him into the ambulance. An irritable looking officer made his way over to where Elliott and Puck stood and began to interview Elliott.

“I understand you witnessed what happened here?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Elliott answered, shrinking slightly, as they tended to do in the presence of authority figures. They proceeded to give their account of events for the third time. 

By now it had been over an hour since the storm began. Elliott, who had dressed for a significantly milder night, was well and truly freezing, despite the blanket. The officer, on the other hand, had only just stepped out of his patrol car, and was still in possession of his body heat. He went on asking questions, seemingly unaware of Elliott’s discomfort. 

After this had gone on for some time, Elliott felt a tug at their sleeve and looked over to find Puck doing a convincing imitation of an innocent kid. “Can we go home soon?” he asked in that jarringly direct way kids have of speaking. 

“Is he with you?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, he’s…” Elliott wasn’t sure of how to finish that statement, but as luck would have it, Puck was ready.

“We’re cousins,” he spoke up. 

Sure, thought Elliott. That should work.

“I should really be getting him out of this weather,” Elliott explained, not untruthfully, “If you have more questions, would you mind calling me?” They tensed as they awaited an answer, half-convinced that they were about to be taken to jail for trying to get out of this conversation. 

The officer glanced skeptically from Elliott to Puck and then back again. Finally he spoke. “Yeah… alright,” he agreed. “What’s your number?” Elliott gave it to him and a moment later they were free. 

Puck seemed subdued on the way back to the apartment. It was a natural reaction after the events of the evening, but Elliott couldn’t help but wonder how what they’d seen might further affect the kid’s psyche. Their only comfort was in the fact that the victim of the crash hadn’t died right there in front of them.

Back at the apartment Elliott got ready for bed (making a mental note to buy Puck a toothbrush) and got out a couple of spare blankets for the kid. Meanwhile, Puck sat on the sofa, staring into space with a despondent look. 

“Do you think you’ll be warm enough?” Elliott asked him. Puck looked at the blankets.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he answered.

“Want to watch something before bed?”

“If you want to.”

Elliott was tired and would have liked to go to bed immediately, but didn’t feel right doing so with Puck in his current mood. “Yeah,” they lied. “I wouldn’t mind watching something lighthearted after that.” 

They put on an episode of Parks and Rec. Elliott found they weren’t in a mental state to pay attention, but at one point they looked over at Puck and caught him laughing silently to himself. At the sight of his smile a weight was lifted, and Elliott felt comfortable going to bed when the episode ended. 

“Keep watching, if you want. I can sleep through it,” they told Puck, handing him the remote. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Elliott,” the kid said.

“Goodnight, Puck. Sleep well,” said Elliott, and got into bed. The television quickly faded into the background as they drifted off to sleep.

In the morning the ice which had coated the town had thawed, and once again, Puck was gone.