Getting Kole for Christmas (3 page)

“Chase asked Cassie to the dance.” I’m not sure why I want to announce this during dinner – for all of my sisters to hear – but I do. Maybe I don’t want them thinking they’re the only special ones on the planet. Maybe I think it will make them believe it could happen to me too.

“I just got a text from Jacob’s little sister,” Melanie says. “She asked if I was going to be home tonight.”

My dad chuckles.

My mom lets out a one of those little
aw…
noises. “Sounds like we better get the camera ready.”

“Did you guys hear me?” I ask. “And Meg’s family is coming into town for the holiday and Mike is probably going to ask her.”

“How about that?” my dad says.

“That’s nice,” Mom adds.

Of course, to them it doesn’t sound like much, but to me it’s breaking news. Front-page worthy. Something I haven’t stopped obsessing over since Cassie told me. She didn’t need to interrupt our kiss over it, but that’s something I’ll think about when depressing songs play on the radio. For now I have to stay focused.

Couples always go to the dance in groups. And Chase and Cassie, Meg and Mike, and Kole and I would be the most perfect group there was.

I blow on a spoonful of Connie’s Christmas Stew before taking a bite. I’m starting to think that maybe I haven’t been so delusional after all. What if Kole is really entertaining the idea of asking me out?

For dessert, we have snowflakes. Not the actual kind but the cut-tortillas-like-a-snowflake, fry them up, and coat them in powdered sugar kind. Another one of my mom’s experiments. Only this one is a keeper. I’m in such a good mood that I hang around to make them with everyone. Trina seems to be sulking more than usual tonight. And since I’m feeling generous I take the bait.

“Is anything wrong, Trina?”

She looks at me, blinking over surprised eyes.  “I don’t know. I mean, Lance was totally ignoring me all day and I’m worried that he’s going to ask Lacy to the dance instead of me.”

I seriously doubt that, but I give her a sympathetic look anyway.

“He’s just messing with her,” Tiff says dismissively. “Guys always back off before they ask you out. They want to throw you off their trail.”

“They do?” Melanie asks. By the tone of her voice you’d think she struck gold. “I hope that’s true because Jacob was acting weird all day.”

Trina isn’t helping with the snowflakes. She’s sketching a face onto the back of an envelope. A round head with round eyes and a straight line for a mouth. No smile. No frown. Just precisely in between.

A loud chime fills the space, reminding me that the doorbell sounds have been switched for the holidays. The first line of Santa Claus is Coming to Town blasts out in synthetic tones.

The kitchen clears in seconds flat. Half-finished snowflakes lay on the counter. Plates of powdered sugar rest nearby. I rush to the stove and shut off the burner, leaving a pan of oil on the stovetop.

Kole’s words float through my mind for the millionth time:
To be continued.
I haven’t heard from him since, which has me thinking about what Tiff just said. What if he really plans to surprise me and ask tonight?

Sounds of appreciation pour from the front room. I hurry to join them, imagining what might be there. If Kole was actually going to ask me, how would he do it?

By the time I get into the front room my entire family is hovered around a bowl of fruit.

“Wait,” my mom hollers, racing down the hall. “Let me get my camera.” Tiff is already filming, but Mom always insists cell phones aren’t enough. I glance at the bowl once more. Small notes are stabbed right into each piece of fruit, each showing a big number on the front.

I stare at the display, asking myself that ever important question: Would Kole ask me out like this? The whole idea of fruit in a bowl seems lame unless I think of him doing it. Then it’s all kind of sweet.

Melanie drops to her knees by the coffee table and reaches for the fruit labeled ‘
one’.

“Wait,” Trina hollers. “What if it’s for me? There’s no name on it.”

Secretly I’m thinking the exact same thing. My palms must be thinking it too because they’re sweating again.

“It will probably say who it’s for in the first note,” Melanie says.

Trina’s face looks like the one she drew on the envelope. “Yeah, but if it’s for me, I don’t want
you
opening it.”

“Well I don’t want
you
opening it if it’s for me either,” Melanie snaps back. “And
I’m
the one who got asked if she was going to be home tonight. Not you.”

My dad releases a thoughtful
hmm
. “He really should have put a name on it.”

He –
meaning whoever dropped the thing on our porch: Jacob. Lance. Or Kole.
Please, please, I don’t care how cheesy it is, just ask me, Kole!

At once everyone’s focus shifts to me. I glance around, wondering just what I’m missing. “Kylie should open the first one so we can see who it’s from. Then
she
can give it to whichever one of us it’s for.”

My jaw drops. I look to my mom, and then my dad, and finally resort to looking over at Tiff, but not one of them gets how offensive this is. It’s bad enough being someone who knows she’ll never get asked to a dance. Worse when everyone in your family knows it too. I want to prove them wrong more than anything.

“Okay,” I say with a shrug. My eyes are drawn to the number one scrawled onto that white, lined page in blue ink. My stomach drops. What if? What if it is really from Kole?

I pull the tack from the peach, licking my lips before folding back the flap. My eyes skim over the words quickly, from one to the next.
Kylie, say Kylie.

 
Only it doesn’t.

Melanie’s name is printed right on top. My heart drops, getting the message before the rest of me. My hands shake from the intensity of it all.

“Melanie,” I manage, “it would be so peachy if you went to the dance with me.” I choke back a gag.
Thank heavens this isn’t from Kole.
It’s an outright travesty.

I step back and plop onto the couch. Trina lifts her shoulders, her mouth back in that straight line.

Melanie bounces back to the basket, her face glowing brighter than the biggest bulb on the tree. I take a moment to let it sink in: Melanie is not going to suffer the way I have. Because guys actually like her. My little sister has already been asked to her first dance and she’s only a freshman. I can barely breathe over the resentment building within me. There’s a part of me that’s dying to be happy for her. Dying. But I can barely even manage a grin.  

Melanie picks up the next one and pulls back the flap. “I really think we’d make a great
pear
.”

A soft rumble of laughter flitters over the room. She sets that down, the smile not leaving her lips as she picks up a purple plum.

I tune out, unable to hear any more. If I get the cheesed-out chills even one more time I’ll have to re-shave my freshly shaven legs and that just won’t do.

Still, I can’t be angry with Melanie. She’s my little sister. This will be her very first dance and I don’t want to take anything away from her.

My eyes start to blur as everyone inspects the stupid pineapple for letters to spell out the guy’s name. Stubborn tears threaten to spill in front of everyone; I cannot let that happen.

I shuffle quietly behind my family – casually – hoping they’ll just think I’m grabbing a drink of water from the fridge.

“Oh, there’s a J,” Tiff shouts.

Melanie squeals, and I use the distracted moment to slip out at last.

“Kylie!” she shouts.

I freeze in place. Just what kind of eyes-on-the-side-of-her-head does this girl have?  “Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“I just have a couple things to take care of.” My shoulders drop as I force myself back into the room. She stands to greet me, and then throws her arms around me. “I can’t believe I got asked!”

My arms feel heavier than they felt moments ago, but I manage to toss them around her in return. “I know, Mel. I’m excited for you,” I say. But this time, it’s not out of obligation. I
am
glad for her. Just a little sad for myself. More than a little, I realize as my face flushes with heat.

Luckily Mel’s attention is already set back on the fruit. I snatch my beanie off the couch and tug it on before opening the coat closet by the door. Thank heavens my coat is actually inside. Bless Dad for that.

I’m halfway through the land of forgotten snowflake treats when my mom pipes up. “Where are you going, Kylie?”

My boots are by the back door. Aside from the mistletoe by the trophy case, they are the most welcome sight of the day. “Just over to Cassie’s for a while. I’m supposed to help her answer Chase about the dance.” I shove my sock-covered feet into my boots and push open the door, welcoming the cold air on my face.

Humiliation weighs heavy on my shoulders and neck. It sinks my once spasm-ridden heart like a cold dead stone. I can’t believe I had myself convinced that Kole would ask me. I can’t believe I was surprised that it didn’t occur to even one person in my family that I might actually get asked. ‘
Here, let Kylie do it.
She never gets asked to anything.’

But above all else, I can’t believe Cassie interrupted that kiss! An opportunity that came in a blink, was gone even quicker, and would never ever ever come again.

I kick at a pile of snow, shoving my hands into my pockets. I’m done wanting to go to the dance. Wanting to get an invitation. Wanting to prove to my family that I’m good enough.

I dig my phone out of my pocket and reread the text Cassie sent me before dinner. It explains how she and her mother already answered Chase this afternoon. I was glad to get it at the time because it got me off the hook. But now I almost welcome the activity since I’m walking the streets at night with nothing to do but mope.

I slow after passing a streetlamp and snatch a long stick I see lying in the slushy curb. The light just yards away casts a deep shadow over the snow mound before me. I have the urge to carve something into that snow. I imagine writing
I love Kole,
and laugh.

“Never,” I mutter. I could draw a broken heart, a straight-mouthed face like Trina’s, a colorful curse word…. my options are growing grim.

At last I grip the soggy stick in my frozen hands, daring to wish my Christmas wish just one last time.

I rest the side of my hand on the surface, and etch just three short words into the snow bank:

Please ask me.

I know it’s horrible to admit, but the fact that Trina hasn’t been asked to the dance either is making my own misery more bearable. Guess that whole misery liking company thing is actually true.

For the last three nights, Trina has turned off the front room lights and paced the floors, hushing everyone in the other room.

On my end of things, Kole hasn’t given me any encouragement since his whole ‘
to be continued’
crap. What a lie. He hadn’t wanted either of those things to be continued. He’d probably been glad to get out of the conversation
and
the kiss. And since I am positive that’s the case, I’ve been avoiding Kole ever since. Which means I haven’t spoken with him for three whole days. My heart does that sinking thing again; I swear sometimes it takes my breath with it. My chest burns a trail of empty heat all the way down to my stomach. Heavy. Hollow. Me.

I close my locker and hoist my backpack up to the nook of my arm, too lazy to go the extra distance to my shoulder. It’s funny how after a few days of ignoring people, they start to ignore you too. Even your friends. Who cares? I want it this way. Want to stay far away from girls getting asked to dances. From guys asking every girl out there but me. And from the one guy I absolutely have to stop thinking about once and for all.

“Jeez, Kylie,” a voice comes from behind. “Where have you been?” I spin around to see Mike leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Here,” I say casually. And it’s true. Of course, I don’t tell him that I’ve been taking different routes in and out of the building, eating lunch downstairs in the forbidden old library, and dodging him, Kole, and the rest of them at every turn.

“Kole said you haven’t been answering your phone either.”

“Oh. My phone’s lost.” Which is also true, only I wasn’t sure Kole would even notice.

“Lost? When did
that
happen?”

I can’t tell him that it was during a sad, sulking moment when I walked in the frigid night on my own. So I simply say, “The other night.”

“When will you get a new one?”

I look blankly at Mike for a minute, a bit of panic spreading over me at the thought of Kole coming before I can get out. I start to walk, motioning that he should come along. “It might be a while.”

“Aren’t you freaking out? My sister can’t be without her phone for more than two seconds or she panics.”

“Hmm. No, I’m not too worried about it. Besides, by the time Christmas break is over, I’ll have one. That’s what I’m getting for Christmas.” I think back on how thrilled my parents were when I finally settled on something.

Suddenly Mike stops walking. “I wonder if you lost it when you were out wandering the other night.”

I suck in a short fast breath. “
What
?” How did he know about that? “What do you mean?”

The halls are crowding up now. Kole could be heading our way at any moment. But suddenly that isn’t my focus. “How did you know I went out walking the other night?”

Mike gives me a wry grin. “We were scoping out Meg’s grandma’s house. Seeing if we’d be able to pull off the idea I have in mind.”

“We who? I mean, who’s we?”

“Me, Kole, and Chase.”

“And you passed me?”

He nods. “Yep. In your colorful hat and boots. You looked like some little cartoon Christmas kitten.”

Ugh
. “What does that even mean?” My face burns with heat. That evening had been a real low point; I hate the idea of Kole spotting me while I wiped at tears or kicked at snow or – I gasp – or carved words into the snow bank. Words like
Please ask me.

My stomach plummets. I feel like I need an emergency trip to the toilet. “I’ve got to go,” I blurt. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Hey,” he yells after me. “What if I need help asking Meg?”

“Why would you?”

Mike looks nervous suddenly. Like the idea of asking her puts him in as much turmoil as I’ve been in over the whole
not
-getting-asked thing.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

I catch sight of Kole coming out of Ms. Hodge’s class. “Call my home phone if you need to. Kole has the number. I’ve got to go.” And then I’m off. I’m so glad Cassie hasn’t been at school the last few days. Her germ-fearing, paranoia-induced absence has given me a much-needed rest from the excited chatter about dresses and shoes and evenings of fun and feeling like royalty. And the timing is perfect because now school is done for a long while. The next time I come back to this crap hole it will be a new year. A new start. I sigh. This year can’t end soon enough.

I scrape what looks like three inches of snowfall off my car and windshield while the vents work on the glass from the inside. I don’t care if I freeze all the way home; I just need to be able to see without running someone over.

Trina and Tiff are catching a bus to cheer for the school basketball game, which means I only have Melanie to wait for. Slow, talking-with-all-her-friends-in-the-hall Melanie. I warned her she’d better be quick today. Not having my phone has been good in one way: I haven’t been anticipating calls or texts from Kole. Also I haven’t been checking up on him through social media. The downside? Situations like these. Stuck outside waiting for my pokey sister and I can’t even send her a life-threatening text.

I duck inside my car, tear off my gloves and scratch my head through the hat. Today’s beanie is seriously itchy and it’s driving me crazy. I put my hands up to the vents, cursing the fingers that gripped that stick that etched those embarrassing words into the snow.
Please tell me he didn’t see them.
I will seriously freak if I find out he did. I will plop face-first in a giant snow bank and drift into a dark, never-ending oblivion.

A tap comes to my window, scaring me so bad that I jump. I glare over at the offender and feel my heart sputter to a sharp and aching stop.
Kole.

My car doesn’t have automatic windows so I have to crank the thing manually.

A slow smile eases onto Kole’s face. “In a hurry?”

I shrug. “I guess. I’m just anxious to get out of here. See ya next year, West Ridge High,” I say in my most snarky tone. I consider giving the building a one-finger salute but decide against it.

“Mike said you lost your phone.” He sounds out of breath and his cheeks are rosy from the cold. I resist the urge to have him get in my car.

“Yeah, I did. But since I’m getting a new one for Christmas and that one is pretty much a piece of crap, I’m not too worried over it.”

His gaze holds mine. Before this moment I thought I knew every expression Kole owned; I was sorely mistaken. Because this is new. It’s different.

“I saw you the other night.”

A rash of heat spreads up my face. “Hmm?”

“You were walking by yourself in the dark. You really shouldn’t do that, you know?” He cups his hands around his mouth and blows on his fingers.

“Do you need a ride home?” I don’t mean to ask; the question just jumps off my lips.

He glances to one corner of the lot. The corner where he, Mike and Chase park.

“Did you drive today?” I prompt.

He shakes his head. “It’s Mike’s week.”

I nod. “Then get in. You can text them, can’t you?”

I realize – while waiting for him to reply – that this is an admission on my part. An admission that I want to be with him. I know he doesn’t
need
the ride. But still I want him to take it. I usually avoid doing things like this, but today I don’t have the strength.

“Okay.” He walks around the car, climbs into the front seat, and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket. Why guys think they’re too cool for a coat is beyond me, though the jacket does look nice on him. It smells nice too. He must have splashed cologne on it. I know my nose is attached to my head, but I swear my entire body smells it.

“My fingers are too frozen to type,” he says with a laugh. His comment reminds me that I’ve been parking in a different place the last few days. How long has he been searching the lot for me? And just why did he seek me out?

I take the phone from him, picking up where he left off. He’s already started a group text going to Mike and Chase, so I simply type out the message.

I’m catching a ride home with Kylie.

I hit send, suddenly curious to see what his friends say back.

“Thanks,” he says, reaching out to take the phone.

I pull back. “You need it so soon?”

“Well, you’re done texting so….”

I glance down at the small device. “Yeah, but I’ve been phoneless for three days. This feels nice in my hand.”

He grins. “I bet it does. You’ll have to get one of your own.”

I bring it up to my cheek and slide it along my skin like
the precious
. “Mmm. It feels so good on my face. I love having a smooth phone to warm my face when it’s cold.”

“Would you just give it back already?” He looks genuinely nervous which only fans my curiosity.

It vibrates against my palm. One quick pulse. “Okay.” I lift the phone toward him while opening my palm. The screen – face up – reveals the text. It’s from Chase; I manage to read only two short words before he grabs it out of my hand.

Go Kole!

Hope sprouts inside me once more. Hope that the guys are egging Kole on because he likes me. I hear his phone let out another buzz.

“Oh,” Kole says, skimming a thumb over his screen. “Chase said Melanie is catching a ride home with them.”

I give him a sideways glance. “Why?”

He shrugs. “She’s friends with Mike’s little sister, remember? He’s dropping them both off at your place. Guess they’re going to hang for a while.”

“Okay.” So that means it’ll just be the two of us. I gulp, loop an arm behind the back of his seat, and look behind us as I back out. “Melanie got asked to the dance the other night,” I say as I straighten up the wheel. I ease into the growing line of cars that are slowly inching toward the exit.

“That’s what I heard.” His voice sounds wounded. Sad. “That was back on Tuesday night, right?”

I nod.

“I’ve been trying to text you.”

I love hearing that. Love it because – sure we usually talk or text every night (until I lost my phone, that is) – but I’m almost always the one who initiates it. It feels incredible to know that he texted me first. I force myself to not think more of it than it is. He likes me, but that doesn’t mean he likes me
that
way.

“Sorry,” I finally say, merging into an even slower lane at the main exit. “I didn’t know.”

Kole remains quiet but he looks restless. His fingers drum on the dash to the song playing. He bounces his head to the beat as well. Finally he glances over. “It’s just weird that you didn’t think of it.”

I furrow my brow. “Of what?”

“Of the fact that I was trying to get hold of you.”

Irritated heat burns low in my chest. “Did you
need
something?”

“No.”

 I shift lanes, deciding to go right instead of left to get out of there quicker. It might be a longer route to Kole’s, but who cares? I have to move.

“Then I guess I don’t understand what the big deal is. Are you mad at me right now?” Agitation pours from me. I tighten my grip on the wheel and roll my shoulders back.

“Never mind,” he mumbles.

“No, really. I want to know why you’re so bugged with me.”

He shakes his head.

“Just spit it out, Kole.”

“I would have found another way,” he blurts.

My eyes widen. I’m surprised by the amount of emotion that clings to his tone. I gulp, blow out a slow breath, and risk another glance his way. Keeping my voice soft and even, I ask, “Another way to what?”

“To talk with you. That’s what. If I lost my phone I’d be worried about missing your texts, so I’d text you from somebody else’s phone and tell you that I lost it so you didn’t worry.”

Worry?

“
Or think I was being rude or something.”

In other words, he thought I had been rude. I let his words sink in as I pull up to a red light. “I just figured that if you really had to get hold of me you would call my house.”

“I don’t have your home number in my phone anymore, Ky. Who calls peoples’ home numbers anymore? No one.”

He has a point. “Sorry,” I say again, hating that I’m losing ground.

“Plus I’ve barely even seen you at school.”

Ugh. He had to bring that up.

“And it seems like the few times I
did
see you, you were doing your best to pretend you didn’t see me.”

I pull into his neighborhood. Less than ten houses from his. Nine. Eight.

I press on the brake, unwilling to get there any sooner. Afraid he will just jump out and that will be the end of it.

“Kylie?”

Six. Five.

“Yeah?”

“Are you dodging me at school?”

I sneer, wondering if he can sense the turmoil inside me. “Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea.”

Two houses. One.

I pull alongside his un-shoveled driveway, knowing he wouldn’t want me to make tire tracks before he shovels. But still I ask, “Want me to pull in or just…”

“No,” he says. “This is good.”