SquidgeWorld Archive

Hot and Cold Running
By Irena Adler

"Mom!" Don wailed.

"What is it, Donnie?" his mom called from downstairs.

Normally Don would complain about the nickname - he was too old to be called `Donnie' - but he was filthy and tired and had been looking forward to a long hot bath. He called back, "The bathtub is full of ice!"

"Talk to your brother," his mom responded. "He's been working on it all day."

"Shoulda known," Don growled and turned towards Charlie's room.

Charlie was already sticking his irritating curly head out of his door, with a huge smile on his face.

"Hey, dorkus," Don snapped. "Get your stupid experiment out of the bathtub."

"Good, I timed it just right," Charlie said, coming the rest of the way out into the hall. His clothes were wet and hung on his skinny nine-year-old frame.

"Yeah, just right for maximum annoyance," Don said. He reached out to grab his little brother but grimaced and clutched at his back.

"Your back hurting?" Charlie said, his eyes big with concern.

"Yeah, doofus," Don groaned. "Which is why I need the bathtub!" Don massaged his lower back in vain. His back had been hurting a lot lately. His parents had taken him to a doctor, but after X-rays and tests, the doctor had declared it `overwork' and told him to stay away from the batting cage. After that, his parents had made him take a break from baseball - the longest two weeks of Don's life - but Don had convinced them that his back was better so he could play again. Too bad his back wasn't convinced. He'd overdone it on his first game back today and pain was shooting down his hip.

"Did you have to pick today to do some stupid experiment?" Don asked through gritted teeth.

Charlie blinked at him then said, "But this is for you!"

"What?"

"I read a book on injuries that said the best way to deal with inflammation is alternating hot and cold immersion. Something about pumping the inflammation out of the muscles."

Don eyed him. "What are you talking about?"

Charlie pushed past him into the bathroom. "See, two minutes cold and two minutes hot, with the shower being the hot. I'm estimating three cycles before the ice is too melted."

Don looked between the bathtub and his eager little brother. "You want me to sit in a tub full of ice?"

Charlie nodded.

"Then stand under the hot shower?"

"Two minutes each." Charlie dug in his pocket and produced his blue plastic stopwatch. "Shower at fifty percent of maximum flow."

It didn't take Don long to decide. He would do a lot worse to get rid of this pain. Taking off his grubby baseball jersey, he reached for the stopwatch.

"I'll time you," Charlie said.

"No way," Don said, taking the stopwatch and gesturing Charlie to leave the bathroom. "I'll time myself."

"But I need to see if I guessed right with the ice shape-"

"Out!" Don said, but with considerably less annoyance than earlier. "I'll give you a full report."

"Try to direct the hot water away from the ice," Charlie said as Don steered him out of the bathroom. "And switch immediately from cold to hot!"

"Got it," Don said and shut the door on a still-talking Charlie.

He undressed the rest of the way and, setting his jaw, climbed into the tub of ice.

The next day, Don high-fived his teammates, accepting congratulations for his game-winning home run. His back hurt, but not nearly as bad as the day before. Maybe it was a coincidence or maybe it was Charlie's experiment.

He'd forgotten to give a report after the ice bath last night. He had just grabbed something to eat and turned to his homework. He couldn't let his grade in History drop any more or his parents wouldn't let him stay on the team. He'd fallen asleep in the middle of the Protestant Reformation.

Today, he looked over at the stands to see the ever-present figure of his brother in the front row, hunched over his stats notebook, his pencil flashing in the afternoon sun. Don's usual spurt of annoyance was muted today. In fact, after he finished talking with his friends and coach, he sauntered over to where Charlie sat.

"Hey, brat," he said.

Charlie looked up and beamed at him. "Three of three! Moving up in the batter's box is really working for you."

"Yeah, and the fact that the pitcher's `fast ball' was slower than spit."

"Oh? What miles per hour was he pitching?"

"I don't know," Don laughed. "Five?"

"I really doubt-"

Don sat down next to Charlie, which surprised Charlie so much that he stopped talking.

Don grinned at him. "I never gave you a report on the ice and shower experiment."

"Right!" Charlie said and eagerly turned over another page in his notebook. "How long did the ice last?"

"I'd say about two and a half times of ice then shower."

"Only that many?" Charlie frowned, scribbling notes. "It should have lasted 3.2 iterations."

"Did you take into account my body heat and weight?"

"Of course-Oh! I'm so stupid! I forgot to factor in the pressure of your body weight. That would speed the ice melt!"

"Yes, you are stupid," Don said lightly. He was in such a good mood that he suddenly decided to pass on the usual pizza with the team after a win. He stood up. "How about you and me go and get some ice cream?"

"Really?" Charlie squeaked.

"Yeah, there are other good uses for ice, like for eating."

Charlie closed his notebook and stuck his pencil in his pocket. "Ice cream isn't made from ice, you know, though it does contain ice crystals and partially crystallized fat globules in a partially coalesced structure. Sort of like grape clusters."

"Yummy," Don commented, throwing his bat bag over his shoulder and stretching his back.

"How does your back feel?" Charlie said.

"Better," Don admitted.

"Great! How much better?"

"What, like a percentage?"

"That would be great!" Charlie responded, reaching for his pencil.

Don shook his head wryly. "Let's just say `better' for now."

"Oh, okay," Charlie said, then perked up. "I can set it up again for you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Ice density would help the melting problem. I've got some great ideas about packing algorithms and flattened spheroids."

"Where are you going to get `flattened spheroids' of ice?"

"I'll make them!"

"Right ..." Don chuckled, though he wasn't really surprised. He headed towards the bike rack and their bikes. "I'm getting rainbow sherbet and I don't want to hear anything about `fat globules'."

"Sherbet is different! It's actually made of fruit juice, not cream so-"

"What kind are you going to get?"

"Sherbet?"

"Or ice cream. Strawberry?"

"I'm contemplating a scoop of choco-peanut fudge crunch. I calculate it has the maximum sugar and fat per square inch."

"Wow, don't tell mom or I'll get in trouble."

"Why?"

"You're gonna be bouncing off the walls and not eating supper."

"Oh," Charlie said thoughtfully.

They unlocked their bikes and Charlie put on his bike helmet. Don snorted under his breath. The helmet made Charlie look even dorkier than usual, but he was serious about protecting his brain. Don didn't care much about his brain, just as long as his batting swing stayed good.

"I think I'll get rainbow sherbet," Charlie said at last.

"Less fat globules?"

"Ice is nice!"

Don laughed. "C'mon, brat, I'll race you to the ice cream store."

"But-"

"I'll give you a half a block head start."

"Okay!" Charlie pushed off and made his wobbly way down the street, his path smoothing out as he gained speed.

Watching him, Don had the brief urge to let Charlie keep going, to turn around and ride the other way and leave Charlie wondering what happened. Go to pizza with his team and leave Charlie alone at the ice cream place until Dad came to get him.

Shaking his head, Don got on his bike and started peddling. His back hardly even twinged. The sun was shining and he was the hero of his baseball team. Maybe today he'd let the bratty genius almost beat him.

Emphasis on the `almost'. Don grinned to himself and raced after his little brother.

This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff . After you've read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here . (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how schmoopy the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you're done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff . Thank you!