Living with Jackie Chan (11 page)

She smiles. “No problem.” She opens her mouth like she might say something else, too, but before she can, I turn around and hurry the rest of the way up the stairs.

Larry goes all out for Christmas Eve. He’s invited Stella and her mom for dinner, since Arielle went upstate to be with her family. He also invited this old lady who lives on the first floor whose husband died last year and it’s her first Christmas alone. Plus a bunch of other people in the building who I haven’t met.

Larry, Stella, and I cook all day. We make tons of “finger food” that Larry found recipes for online. We’re each assigned three different types. When those are all done, we make Christmas cookies. Larry admits he didn’t have time to make cookie dough himself, so he bought the unhealthy premade dough that comes in sheets. He acts like this is the worst crime known to man. But, he says, he made up for it by making the best homemade icing we’ll ever taste. He also bought a bunch of cookie cutters in the shapes of Christmas trees and reindeer and other Santa-type stuff. He divides up the icing and shows us how to make different colors with food coloring, and then we sit at the kitchen table and decorate the cookies. Larry blasts old Christmas tunes and sings off-key while Stella and I get carried away making pink and blue Christmas trees.

I know it sounds crazy, but this might be one of the best days of my life. There’s something about being here. The smells of cooking. The laughing. The sun coming through the window, making spirits bright . . . OK. Lame. But anyway. It’s nice. And way better than being stuck alone in my parents’ cave of a house. I bet they didn’t even bother to put up the tree now that I’m not coming.

When people start to arrive, Larry directs them to the tree and the box of ornaments waiting to be hung up. He bought a ton of Santa hats and tries to force people to wear them. Somehow I manage to luck out and get away from him whenever he starts waving one in my direction. He makes Stella and me walk around with trays of food to offer people. There’s lots of wine and foul-smelling eggnog that Larry spiked to the hilt. “Don’t put it near any candles,” he jokes to everyone, which gets old fast.

Stella’s mom arrives with her new boyfriend. Stella does not look happy to see him.

Her mom’s name is Star. She’s pretty, like Stella. But she has that tired look some people have, and she wears way too much makeup to try to cover it up. “I’ve heard so much about you, Josh! It’s nice to finally meet!”

The boyfriend, Calvin, shakes my hand real hard. Then he gives me his card. He’s a Realtor at the company Stella’s mom is a receptionist at. Star explains that he has convinced her mom to enroll in school to get her own real-estate license. She looks really happy, but Stella looks completely pissed about the whole thing, which seems weird.

Larry cranks up the music, and everyone continues to eat and drink. When all the ornaments are on the tree, Larry turns off the lights and makes everyone sing “Silent Night.” Then he plugs in the lights on the tree, and everyone claps.

When Ben and his parents show up, Stella runs over and they give her a huge group hug. I never realized that his parents were both guys. I figured Jean was a girl. But I guess it’s Gene. Anyway, Gil has the baby in one of those slings that hangs on your chest, and he walks around, rocking, while he talks to everyone, apologizing for being late and missing the tree lighting. With the baby all covered up like that, Gil looks like he’s pregnant. It’s kind of disturbing, given that he has a beard.

Every time he starts to come over to me to introduce himself, I pretend I need something in the kitchen.

Everyone else coos over how cute the baby is, whispering loudly.

“Don’t worry, he can sleep through anything,” Gil says.

“Yeah, except for his internal two a.m. alarm clock,” Gene adds. “The kid is wired for two on the dot. It’s the strangest thing.”

Larry automatically looks over at me. I turn away and bring the almost-full tray I’m carrying back to the kitchen, then sneak off to my room. Clover is cowering on my bed, scared of all the strangers in the house. I pet her to try to calm her down.

There’s a light knock. Stella comes in without waiting for me to answer. She’s wearing one of the Santa hats.

“Hey, you OK?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just needed some air.”

She sniffs. “In here?”

“So funny.”

She sits down at the end of my bed. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say.

Her eyes dart around the room as she checks out all the Jackie Chan and karate crap. “Nice decorations,” she says, grinning.

“Larry, not me.”

“Really? I never would’ve guessed.” She winks and reaches over to pet the cat. “So, I have to ask,” she says, “because I’ve been wondering about this since the first time we met.”

Clover moves out from under her hand and walks over to me, as if she knows I need her.

“What?” I ask, even though I’m sure I don’t want to know.

“Why do babies freak you out?”

My face gets hot. “They don’t.”

“Right. Every time Gil tried to get near you with the baby, you ran to the kitchen.”

“What? I wasn’t running.”

“Speed walked, then. Whatever. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“OK,” she says sarcastically. She stares at me. Maybe she thinks if she waits long enough, I’ll tell her the truth.

“Nice hat, by the way,” I tell her.

“You really are a master at changing the subject,” Stella says. Then she gives me that smile that makes me feel a way I don’t want to. Like my insides are on fire. I turn away.

“Wait here. I have something for you.” She comes back a minute later with a tiny gift bag.

Crap. I didn’t think to get her anything.

“It’s not a big deal, so don’t feel bad about not getting me something,” she says, like she can read my mind.

I reach inside and take out a small box. It thuds when I shake it.

“You got me a piece of coal, didn’t you?” I say.

“Just open it.” When our eyes meet again, I feel this crazy sinking feeling in my chest. Good and bad at once. This time, she’s the one who looks away.

I quickly open the box to break the silence. Inside, there’s a rock. It’s speckled orange and polished smooth, like the ones you buy at a museum store or something.

“It’s a rock,” she says.

“Oh. I wasn’t sure.”

She elbows me. “Now who’s funny?”

I pull out the rock and inspect it. “It’s a nice rock,” I say. “Very smooth.”

“It’s a special rock.” She moves closer to me. “My grandmother gave it to me when my mom and I moved here. We used to live with her. Anyway, she said to keep it in my pocket, and whenever I felt scared or lonely, to squeeze it. She had one, too, and she said she’d be able to tell when I squeezed it, and she’d send me strength.”

“But . . . that’s too . . . like, special. I can’t take this.” I try to hand it back.

“No, no. See, my grandmother died. And now I have both rocks. So, you know. I don’t need two. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and obviously you don’t want to talk about it. But . . . we’re friends. Maybe you don’t want to talk to me about whatever it is you’re carrying, but I can still send you some strength when you need it. And . . . maybe you could do the same for me.”

“Wow,” I say. “This is, like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But why me? Why not give this to Britt?”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t need any strength. He has a perfect life.”

“Because he has you?”

She gives me a shove. “No, stupid. He just doesn’t need anything. Not like you and me. He lives in a fancy house. He has an expensive car. His parents are still together. He’s a natural athlete. A great student. You get it. He doesn’t have to worry about stuff the way you and I do.” There’s a little flicker of sadness in her face when she says that. She covers it up fast, but I see it.

“So how come you don’t like your mom’s new boyfriend?” I ask.

She sighs. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He just gives me a bad feeling.”

“How come?”

“You’ve seen how my mom acts around him. She’s totally fallen for him. And now she’s going to spend all this money that we don’t have on going to classes to get her license when, given her past experiences, this relationship will be over in a month and she’ll end up quitting her job and going somewhere else and never becoming a Realtor or whatever and all that money will be wasted.”

Wow. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am.

“What if he doesn’t?” I ask.

“Doesn’t what?”

“Break up with her. What if they stay together?”

“They won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they never do.” She shakes her head. “I will never be like her. I swear.”

I hand her the rock.

“What?”

“I think you need to squeeze this,” I say.

She laughs. “Sorry. I got a little carried away. Ugh. She
promised
me Christmas was going to be special this year. Just the two of us. But I bet you a million bucks
Calvin
ends up spending the night.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“Forget it. Let’s just go back out and have some fun.”

I reach for her arm before she gets up. “Hey,” I say. “Thanks for the rock. It’s really nice.”

She shifts a little closer to me, and I automatically move away just the slightest bit.

She sighs. “Would you relax? I’m not going to try to jump your bones.”

“Jump my —” I can’t help it. I start laughing.

She laughs, too, and it feels so good. So good to be sitting here with her, and this amazing gift. This amazing girl. Friend.

“Anyway,” she says when we stop laughing. “When you need, you know, some strength, you can squeeze this, and I’ll know. And I’ll send you some.”

“I seriously can’t believe someone would do something so nice for me,” I say.

“Well, believe it,” she says. “That’s what friends do.”

I close my fingers around the rock again and think about Dave and Caleb back home and what a horrible friend I’ve been to them. I squeeze the rock and promise myself to do better.

“Thanks,” I say. “This is really cool. And — you know, if you need strength, I’ll send you some, too.”

Before I know she’s coming, she’s got her arms around me and gives me a huge squeeze. I have about two seconds to smell her honey-scented hair before she kisses me on the cheek and runs out of the room. But the smell of her perfume is still here.

I take a slow, deep breath before it slips away.

After everyone leaves, I help Larry pick up. He hums carols while we wash dishes and put everything away. When we’re finally done, we stand in front of the tree and admire the lights.

“That was a nice night,” Larry declares. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I love Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“I noticed Stella had a present for you. Anything good?”

“Actually, yeah. It was a rock.”

“Like a pet rock?”

“Not exactly.”

I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell him the details. It just seems like something private between Stella and me.

“Hmm,” says Larry. “That’s different. I like that. What did you get for her?”

“Nothing. I’m such an idiot.”

He shakes his head. “We need to work on that.”

“No kidding.”

“Well, I guess we should hit the hay so Santa can come.”

“Seriously?”

“What?” He paws around in the ornament box next to the tree and pulls out two stockings. “Won’t come if we don’t leave ’em out.” He drapes them over the back of the couch. “G’night, Sammy. Merry Christmas.” He walks down the hall, humming “Jingle Bells.”

“G’night,” I say quietly.

In my room, I check my cell. My mom sent a photo of the Christmas tree set up in our living room. Our dog, Rosie, is sitting in front of it with a big red ribbon around her neck and a pair of fake antlers on her head, as if someone in our family actually found a sense of humor.

I read the message:
we <3 u!


Weird.

I check my other messages.

Caleb:
merry xmas! y didn’t u come home?