The Twelve Dates of Christmas (19 page)

I shook my head. I'd almost forgotten that the outfit Cam and I had picked out way back when was still sitting around in the back of my closet.

“No,” I said. “Actually, I think I'm going to skip the Ball this year.”

Allie gasped and took a step back. “What?” she exclaimed. “But you can't skip the Ball! Nobody skips it—JoAnn Garson even dragged herself there last year when she had the flu, remember?”

“I know. But I'm really not in a Christmas kind of mood. And I'm even less in a party kind of mood.” I stared at her, willing her to understand. “I just think it's better this way.”

She stared back. Her dark eyes looked troubled. But finally she nodded.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “If that's really your decision, I guess I know better than to try to talk you out of it. It won't be the same without you, though.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at her, welling up a little as I thought about what a good friend she really was. For a second I almost changed my mind—maybe I could still go, just hang out with Allie the whole time . . . But no. It was better this way. “So how about it?”
I asked her. “Want to wear the genie costume?”

“Oh!” She shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Well, if you're sure you really won't need it . . .”

“I'm sure.”

“All right. I'd hate to see the Triple-Xmas Genie go to waste.” She giggled, her joyful mood already seeping back. “I might tone it down to a single X, though. I could ditch the vest and wear my gauzy red beach cover-up over the candy cane thing instead. Oh, and I think I'll wear tights under those see-through pants, too—otherwise my parents will probably disown me.” She giggled again. “What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect. You'll have to take lots of pictures, okay?”

Christmas Eve dawned bright, clear, and cold. My parents were in a frenzy of last-minute preparations all day, so I barely saw them. When they finally came home to get changed for the Ball, I told them I had a stomach virus and wouldn't be going. They were surprised but didn't argue. After all the work they'd put in all autumn long,
they were totally focused now on going and enjoying the results.

By the time they came downstairs, dressed as a gingerbread cookie (Mom) and a glass of milk (Dad), I was wrapped in my shabby old Polartec robe on the couch watching a rerun of
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
. “Looking good, guys,” I called to them.

My mom hurried in, pulled off her gingerbread glove, and put her hand to my forehead. “Are you sure you'll be okay here all alone?” she asked.

“Totally,” I said. “It was probably just something I ate. I'll be fine.”

“Come on, Mellie.” Dad toddled in, his legs looking skinny in their white stockings sticking out under the bottom of the milk glass costume. “Lexi's a big girl. She'll be fine. Just call us if you need us, okay, sweetie?”

“Sure, Dad.”

The doorbell rang. “That'll be Laurie and Hal,” Mom said, hurrying to answer.

Sure enough, Nick's parents were standing on the porch. They were dressed as a lumberjack and a decorated Christmas tree. My uncle was the tree. His ornaments jingled beneath his L.L. Bean parka.

“Lexi! Nick said you weren't feeling well, but I was hoping you'd recover in time to make it to the Ball after all,” my aunt said as she entered and spotted me.

“I don't think so,” I told her. “I'm going to have to sit this one out.”

She tsk-tsk'd a bit. “What a shame. Well, never mind. There's always next year.”

There's always next year.
I felt a flash of premature nostalgia as I watched my parents and aunt and uncle acting all eager and merry, preparing to go out and have a good time enjoying the fruits of all their labor. No, there wouldn't be a next year for me. Not really. Oh, sure, I'd probably come back to Claus Lake for Christmas and go to the Ball itself. But it wouldn't be the same. The whole extended holiday season was such a part of life in Claus Lake. What would it be like to spend next autumn someplace else—someplace where people probably didn't start humming Christmas carols right after Labor Day? It was a weird thought.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” My aunt had been saying something to my mother, but now she turned to my uncle. “Harold, did you remember to bring over the package?”

“What package?” my dad asked as he pulled on his coat. It looked pretty funny trying to stretch over his costume.

My uncle reached into his voluminous jacket pocket and pulled out a brown-paper-wrapped package about the size of a large book. “It's for Lexi. It got delivered to our house a day or two ago by mistake,” he said, tracking snow all over the floorboards as he hurried over to me. “In all the commotion, we didn't notice until just now.”

That sort of thing was always happening. Even though the same mail carrier had been delivering to our neighborhood for years, our two houses were always getting each other's mail. I suppose that's what came of having two families with the same last name living next door to each other.

“Thanks, Uncle Hal.” I took the package without looking at it. “Have a great time tonight, you guys. Have some eggnog for me.”

“That's a promise.” Dad gave me a wink. “Come on, gang. Let's party!”

They all bustled out, talking and laughing. As soon as they were gone, the house felt a whole lot emptier.

I sighed. Not a creature was stirring.
“Merry Christmas to me,” I muttered, feeling sorry for myself.

Not particularly interested in Rudolph's TV antics, I glanced down at the package in my lap. I'd expected it to be a gift from one of my out-of-state relatives. But to my surprise, I saw Cam's name and address on the return label!

I ripped open the package. Beneath the brown shipping paper were a gift-wrapped item and a cream-colored envelope.

My mother had taught me to open the card before the gift. So that was what I did, slitting open the envelope. Inside was a holiday card with a picture of a sprig of holly on the front and Cam's familiar slanty, pointy handwriting inside.

Dear Lexi,
it read.
I hope you don't think this is weird. But I came up with the perfect gift for you ages ago, before we broke up, and I still wanted you to have it even if we're not together anymore. I thought it might help inspire you once you get to college. Merry Christmas. Your friend always, Cam.

Curious now, I grabbed the gift-wrapped package and ripped it open. It was one of those double picture frames. One half held a framed photo and the other a handwritten
note. For a second I wasn't sure what it was supposed to be.

Then I gasped as I recognized the sharp-chinned, wild-haired little girl staring out toward the camera. A cheerful, slightly portly man in a white lab coat stood beside her, one hand resting paternally on her shoulder.

“It's me!” I exclaimed aloud to the empty house, grasping the frame in both hands and staring intently at the pair. “And—and is that the doctor from the Mayo clinic?”

My head spun as I tried to understand what I was seeing. It was like gazing directly into the past. Over the years, I'd pretty much forgotten what he looked like. But now it all came back. The horn-rimmed glasses. The good-natured smile. The wisps of graying hair around the edges of his otherwise bald head.

“But how . . . ?” I whispered.

I looked at the note framed beside the photo. The writing was unfamiliar.

Dear Lexi,
it said.
I was so touched and honored when your boyfriend contacted me and told me your story. I'm retired now, but naturally I immediately remembered the bright little
girl who was so interested in my lab all those years ago. I'm so glad to know that your mother is still doing well, and am especially thrilled to hear that you intend to pursue a science career yourself! I hope you will enjoy this photo—I don't know if you recall, but one of the nurses snapped it that day just by chance. When I retired a few years back, she included it in the scrapbook they all made me. And now I want you to have it. Always stay curious, and please don't hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything. Best wishes, Dr. William J. Ericsson.

Tears filled my eyes as I read the note a second time. I couldn't believe Cam had done this. How long had it taken him to track down the right doctor? I couldn't imagine how he'd managed it.

My emotions were going crazy as I thought about it. I was so touched by his thoughtful, personal, caring gift that it gave me a sudden surge of new energy—and a new idea. . . .

A few people turned to stare as I walked into the festively decorated fireman's hall a short while later. And no wonder. I was dressed as a reindeer—hind end only. I'd hitched up the extra fabric of the costume with Dad's Christmas suspenders, which were decorated with little wreaths.

The Ball was in full swing. At one end of the hall, a live band dressed as elves was playing a rousing version of “Deck the Halls,” and tons of people were dancing and singing along with the “fa la la la la” parts. The walls were draped with the garlands and swags we'd all worked so hard for the past couple of months to make, the ceiling dripped with mistletoe and blinking holiday
lights, and the squat blue spruce behind the band was so heavily decorated, there was hardly a needle in sight. The bar and refreshments area was doing a booming business; Mom's shrimp canapés seemed to be a particular hit, since I saw at least three people enjoying them within the first thirty seconds after I arrived. People had been creative with their costumes as usual—in addition to the expected elves, snowmen, and Santas, I spotted an icicle, a potted poinsettia, and a couple of wrapped gifts.

But I took all that in only peripherally, with the detached, perpetually observant part of my mind. Most of my focus was on finding Cam. I looked around for him, but it was hard to see very far in the dense crowd.

I took a few steps farther into the room. “Hi, Lexi,” someone said from nearby. “Merry Christmas!”

“Same to you,” I replied, glancing over and recognizing my ninth-grade history teacher, who was standing with her husband. They were dressed as what appeared to be a Victorian-era Santa and Mrs. Claus. Or maybe it was Elizabethan era. History was never my best subject. Either way, I gasped as I suddenly caught sight of a
couple dancing a few yards beyond them. “Um, would you excuse me?”

I rushed past them and over to the other couple, so shocked by what I was seeing that all thoughts of Cam, the future, and everything else had been wiped out of my mind, at least for the moment. Because that other couple was Allie and Nick. They were dancing together, which was no huge surprise. But they were also
kissing
!

“Hey!” I blurted out, skidding to a stop in front of them. “What's going on?”

Okay, so it wasn't the most tactful approach. But I'd had a rough day. Make that a rough couple of months.

They sprang apart as if I'd hit them with a Taser. “Lexi!” Allie cried, her face immediately going bright red.

Nick kept his composure a little better. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were, ahem, ‘home sick.'”

“I was. I mean, I—Don't change the subject!” I exclaimed. “I saw you guys—you were totally making out!”

“Would you believe us if we blamed the mistletoe?” Nick asked, squinting upward.

I crossed my arms over my fuzzy reindeer chest. “Try again.”

“We're so sorry we didn't tell you, Lexi,” Allie cried, grabbing my arm. She looked totally adorable as the Xmas Genie, by the way. The costume suited her much better than me. “We didn't mean to keep secrets. But you were so bummed out about the whole Cam thing, and then once a few weeks had gone by, it just seemed kind of awkward. . . .”

“Wait,
what?
” I was really having trouble taking this in now. My scientific mind had already started plugging the strange little scene I'd just interrupted into a logical sequence. They'd come to the Ball, neither with another date; they'd danced together, gotten a little carried away . . . But no. It sounded like there was a lot more to it than that.

Nick took a deep breath. “Okay, here's the deal,” he said. “Allie was really cool to me after Rachel and I broke up. Especially since, um, a lot of people were, you know, kind of distracted by other things.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Come to think of it, I hadn't really paid that much attention to Nick's heartbreak after the first week or two. Not only had I been distracted by the whole Cam situation, but also by the
SATs, the Simpson Scholarship, my classes at school . . .

“Anyway, we started getting kind of, you know, close,” Allie picked up the story. “Then a while ago, the two of us spent a lot of time together working on the kids' room decorations, remember? That's when we realized we were starting to like each other as, um, more than friends.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Wait. So like, that time I stopped by your house when you guys were making the paper chains . . .”