They. Right. I didn’t need the gender-neutral address. I was feeling pretty confident they used he and him pronouns.
She wrapped herself up in the blankets, looking away. “That’s… a secret.”
“Is it someone here?”
She drew her shoulders tighter. “Secret.”
She wanted to end this conversation and so did I—I just wanted to curl up and cry—but some masochistic part of me told me to continue. “Okay, just one question then. Is it someone you’re together with, or just someone you like?”
“Just… someone I wish I were together with,” she said, her voice so small I could barely hear it. “That’s all I’m going to say.”
I sank back into the pile of blankets, that hollow feeling eating at my stomach. “I’m sure they’d be really happy to know how you feel,” I managed. “I hope you’re able to get together with them.”
She sighed. “I really doubt that, but… thanks, Alice. Good night.”
I spent a while lying there before I managed to say “Good night” without my voice breaking.
I was going to act like I liked Henry, and she was going to have her own crush for real. And I’d be safe.
Dammit, I didn’t want to be safe.
Chapter 4
Lisette
I was not able to sleep that first night.
Alice really did like Henry. It left me feeling like my core had been scooped out. I mean, of course she was straight, but still…
I’d gone and said something stupid about how I had someone I wish I were together with. I could have laughed how clearly it went over her head I was talking about her.
Still, one little thing kept giving me pause. She’d only said they or them, never he or him. Leaving the door open to me having feelings for people who weren’t men. It was such a little thing, but it warmed me up.
Not that I could ever dare tell her I was a lesbian. She’d know in a heartbeat I’d been talking about her.
All that, and during dinner, when she’d wiped off my lip, for some stupid reason I saw the look on her face and felt like she wanted to kiss me. Obviously I knew that didn’t make any sense and obviously I knew she didn’t, but there was just a moment she looked at me and I thought, she’s going to kiss me, and that if she did kiss me, I would kiss her back.
Right there in front of everyone. I wouldn’t have given a damn.
It had just been a stupid fantasy for one second before I’d pulled myself back to reality, but it haunted me well into the night. I didn’t even know her. I mean, I knew her from ten years ago, but ten years ago. I’d turned a complete one-eighty since then. Probably she had, too.
Somehow I must have fallen asleep in the night, though, because I woke up to snow falling outside the window, the air too cold outside my blanket, and the faint sound of chatter and cooking from downstairs. I rubbed my eyes, fell back into the bed, and then Alice’s voice yanked me out of my sleepy bliss.
“Henry said you like coffee with milk and chocolate.”
I sat up abruptly, to where Alice was walking in holding a mug of coffee and wearing a long, green robe, her hair all sticking around her head at odd angles, and I felt my heart dance like a ballerina at the sight of her next to my bed like that.
“Oh… thanks,” I mumbled, sitting up. She set the coffee down on my nightstand. “Did I sleep in late?”
She pulled a fluffy armchair up next to the bed and sat down, taking her own mug of steaming liquid off the dresser. “No, I just woke up early. I like mornings. It’s seven-thirty.”
I rubbed my eyes, took the coffee and breathed it in deeply. It smelled just right, just kiddy enough for my tastes. Silently, I thanked Henry. “Good morning.”
Her cheeks were a little red in the cold, and she was so adorable I couldn’t put it into words. “Good morning. I hope you’re ready for rehearsals to start today.”
I almost spilled my coffee. I’d forgotten. Today was the first day I’d take my one-sided crush on a slow, romantic ballroom dance. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. We’ll see how much I remember.”
She laughed, took a long sip of her coffee. Hers was black. Of course she drank her coffee black. “You were good then. The star of the show, remember? The darlings of the last dancers.” And as quickly as it had appeared, her smile turned into a tight line. “You and Seth.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mumbled. His lips on my cheek that time were worse than on my hand yesterday. “I’m thinking I’ll pull out the old Alice Richmond trick for this year.”
“Why don’t you just tell them you have someone you like?”
I almost laughed at the thought. Hey, guys, I actually like Alice instead, can I just dance with her? “I don’t think I’d be ready for the consequences,” I said. “I’ll just ride this out.”
She sighed, looking down. “Good luck.”
“Not like you, though,” I said, leaning back, trying to sound upbeat. “You’ve got a perfectly nice guy to dance with.”
“Y-yeah.”
We were quiet for a while before Alice stood up. “I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for rehearsal.”
She left me to my own thoughts—thoughts about dancing with her—before I couldn’t bear it any longer, figured I’d have to just go through with it already, and I picked out my gown for the rehearsal.
I admit to putting a lot more care into the choice than it warranted. It was just rehearsal. But this was going to be my first dance with the person I really did want to dance with.
∞∞∞
My mom was angry-squinting.
She was a woman who, by some genetics parlor trick, looked nothing like me. She was short and stocky, with curly brown hair and darker skin than I had, and I always liked being able to throw people for a loop telling people yes, yes she was my biological mother.
With dance rehearsal still an hour and a half away, she’d appeared right after I’d gotten dressed, telling me to warm up with her. That was violin practice, of course. She’d been the one who had drilled it into me as a little girl.
“Gina is going to want to see your performance tonight,” she said. “So we’d better practice now.”
She always sounded like she’d just swallowed a whole lemon, and usually squinted like she’d somehow gotten it in her eyes too.
She led me to the sunroom, which doubled as a music room, because you might as well get both those rich-people rooms in one, and took her violin from the case. I took mine, standing across from her, and I’d barely lain it on my shoulder before she squinted harder.
“What are you doing with your posture, Lisette? Move your arm.”
She grabbed my arm and moved it around, angling it differently, and then she was moving my back, too, her clammy little hands all over me. I tried not to cringe, just go along with it—just go along with everything. Only once every ten years, I reminded myself.
Bowing my first few notes got the same reaction as my posture did. She was squinting at my hands, at my bowing arm, twisting her face up at every little thing.
“What do they teach you?” she grunted. “You’re in conservatory! I swear, you played better ten years ago.”
And she really believed she hadn’t driven me completely away from playing.
Still, after about half an hour of beratement, she was quiet and let me play. I went from one Christmas song to another, We Three Kings and I Wonder as I Wander, the ones that were actually about Jesus and not “that fake Christmas rubbish.”
I didn’t think it was weird when people started hanging around, slipping into the room to watch. There were a couple of them with kids, but they stayed quiet. I didn’t mind an audience—I’d played for enough crowds I couldn’t care anymore—but I was halfway through a song when I noticed Alice in the group watching me with wide eyes, and I lost the note.
“What are you doing?” Mom snapped, her brow furrowing. “Are you getting nerves now, Lisette? Do you not play for audiences in conservatory?”
> “Sorry,” I said, picking up where I left off. I kept the song flowing smoothly, but on the inside, I was shaking.
Alice was watching me, her hands to her chest. And in her long, emerald gown, she was enchanting.
I felt like I had when I used to play for recitals, when there would be instructors judging me. I was hyperaware of the notes I was playing, counting out the beats to the music, aware of every muscle in my body, thinking ahead to the next few notes I’d have to play. I had to keep myself looking up into nothingness, because if I met Alice’s eyes again, I’d have stumbled.
I set the violin down when I finished the song. “I need to stop for now. I have dance rehearsal soon.”
The look on her face said she was going to argue, but I left before she had the chance, putting my violin back in the case and leaving it by the door as I walked out. My audience filtered out, but Alice was still there, her eyes wide as I walked up to her.
“You’re incredible,” she breathed. “You’re in conservatory?”
I shifted awkwardly. I wasn’t. But they’d have my head if they found out the truth. “I am,” I mumbled, and just that one little lie to Alice felt worse than every lie I’d told my mom over the years. “But I’m nothing that special.”
“Are you kidding? That was so beautiful, I…” She shivered. “I loved it.”
I’d spent a while resenting the violin. I’d been drilled on the thing until it was my enemy. But now, seeing the way it left Alice in a state of wonder, for a moment, I thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad.
“I’m glad,” I said. A suitably neutral statement. Because god help me if I got emotional now. “Are you going to be ready for the dance?”
She nodded. “I actually came looking for you to ask if you wanted to… to get started early.”
“Start early? Just the two of us?”
She looked away. “I—if you’re okay with it.”
I was more than okay with it. I wanted to dance the rest of the day together, just the two of us.
God dammit, Lisette. Get your act together.
I wasn’t just being creepy at this point, I was being self-destructive with these thoughts. But the way she looked up at me…
The past year and a half, I’d avoided dating at all. It was so much emotional commitment, left me so raw and vulnerable, I wasn’t able to accept it. I’d started keeping girls all at arm’s length, and then eventually just stopped dating altogether. But every time I saw Alice, some hopeless part of my heart begged me to lay everything on the line for her.
Alice Richmond. Dammit. She was a poison on my mind. A beautiful, irresistible poison.
“It sounds good to me,” I said, and I led her back towards the studio. “Let’s go.”
I walked past the chatter of relatives, the crackling wood in the fireplace, and of course, the leering gaze of Seth. When he saw me, he rose from his seat next to Henry—who also made me feel a little sick now that I knew Alice liked him, which hurt on different levels, since he’d been my favorite in my family—and when Seth started towards me, I couldn’t hurry Alice into the studio quickly enough to get away.
“You were magnificent, Lisette, mi amor,” he breathed, taking my hand. “Your skill in the violin has flourished just as beautifully as you have—”
He raised my hand towards his greasy lips again, but this time, Alice grabbed it before he could kiss it, and I felt my heart soar.
“Watch it,” she said. “Remember, she’s my partner for now.”
Seth glared at her. “Why are you so intent on keeping me from her, anyway, my dear cousin? Do you really have no one here who will be with you, and you have to fight me for the person actually required to stay with you?”
Alice squeezed my hand harder. I flinched, but not from her.
“Seth,” I said, “she’s my friend. Don’t say that.”
“Friend, is she?” Seth laughed, his voice still tense, but he at least let go of my hand. Alice held onto me for a minute longer, and honestly I just wished she would stay there. “I wonder what she’s done for you. Or will do for you. She’s rather a case of all bark and no bite, as it were. Trust me, I’ve known her these past ten years.”
Alice laughed. “Oh, Seth. Never change, dear cousin. Unless that change is putting a railroad spike down your throat.”
Alice whirled on her heel and stormed off towards the studio, leaving me there to enjoy the look on Seth’s face.
“Nasty sometimes, isn’t she?” he laughed. “Merry Christmas, indeed. Well, I won’t stop you from dancing with your violent friend. But you should consider a little trip out with me later. There’s a wonderful place for ice skating just past the park—”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I snapped, turning and marching after Alice.
I would keep it in mind. In case I ever got an opportunity to slip out with Alice, ice skating sounded wonderful.
Chapter 5
Alice
The music swelled—Silent Night, just like last time, filling the dance studio. And my heart swelled with it.
For a minute, I forgot everything. All the thoughts about Lisette thinking I liked Henry, of having to pretend I was straight, of who Lisette had a crush on—we linked hands, I looked up into Lisette’s eyes, breathtaking as she was, and we danced. And I felt like everything in the world was right where it was supposed to be.
It all came back to me so naturally. Every step felt as easy as if I were walking in a straight line—it took a couple of stumbles before I found the old muscle memory, and the dance was all coming back to me as clearly as if it had been yesterday. With Lisette’s hand on my hip, I stepped, turned with her, felt the world slow down, and when she lowered me into a dip, I felt like time froze into that one moment, like a snowflake, all the patterns coming together by some force of nature I couldn’t understand.
The first dance was so enchanting I didn’t think there were words in the English language anymore. When we started a second time, switching positions, I found I could talk.
“I think it’s amazing you’re in conservatory,” I breathed.
She sighed, glanced around the room, a whole studio just to the two of us. “Promise to keep a secret?”
Another secret? My head spun. “Of course,” I said.
“I’m not. But if they found out I actually went to a technical school for music production, they’d flip out.”
“For—” I stumbled and we stopped moving, clumsily restarting a second later. “For music production? Seriously?”
“I am quite serious.”
God, if I thought I’d liked Lisette already. “That’s so amazing. I couldn’t imagine the kind of work that goes into that. I love that. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
She gave me an odd look, a smile quirking on her lips. “That easily? You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Why would it be weird to study music production? I think that’s amazing.”
“Well… I’m glad you do, but I mean, you don’t think it’s weird I’m lying about what I’m studying?”
I dipped her this time, which, to be honest, was a lot more thrilling. The way she hung onto me, I just wanted to spend forever in that moment. “I mean,” I started. “To tell you the truth, I’m lying to my family about what I’m studying. They’d freak out if they found out I’m in computer science. So I tell them I’m doing English.”
She laughed, long and loud and clear, her laughter filling the room. She beamed so bright I think I we could have turned off the lights and still seen just fine. “We have a lot in common, don’t we?” she said, a glimmer in her eyes as she looked down at me, her arms linked with mine, and my heart flopped in my chest.
There was one thing in particular I really wished we had in common. But I wasn’t about to say that.
“I guess so,” I mumbled. “I want to go into artificial intelligence, which, god help me if they knew that. They think I’m going to pick up an English degree, marry a man, settle down and have some educated babie
s and that’s what my degree is for.”
“Artificial intelligence?” Lisette just seemed to light up more and more, and I reveled in the feeling of making her do it. “That’s amazing. I wish I were that smart.”
“I think you probably are,” I said. “It takes a lot to manage as much as you do. You sing, too, don’t you?”
She flinched. “How did you—”
“So I was right?” I laughed. “I was just taking a guess. But I mean, you breathe from your core, the way you hold your shoulders, and your voice—you sound like you really know how to use your mouth.”
Voice. Voice, not mouth. When she stared at me, her face reddening, I felt like running away forever and falling into a snowbank and dying.
“Your jaw is always relaxed and—”
“Yeah, I sing,” she mumbled. “I started classical singing lessons about five years ago, but…”
“But what?” I really didn’t want her to stop talking. The more she talked, the further we got away from my accidental innuendo.
“Wasn’t really into classical. You know. Got bored with it after a while.”
“So what do you do now?”
She shrugged. “This and that.”
Well, that was her dodging the question. I wasn’t sure how to follow up after that, so we just danced together, with my mind replaying me saying one of the stupidest things I’d ever managed, and that was a really high bar.
Aunt Gina came in the studio just before we finished the second dance, and she stood by the doors watching us with wide eyes. When we finished, she clapped with all the excitement she seemed able to hold.
“You’re not telling me you already managed the whole dance!” she said, her voice squealing wildly between octaves. “Alice, I had no idea you had it in you!”
I squinted at her. That was strangely specific towards me. “I mean, it kind of just came naturally once we started—”
“Say!” She rushed over to us, positively glowing. “You ought to be the last dancers! What do you say?”
I looked up at Lisette, who was maintaining the same stoic look as always. “The last dancers?”
The Christmas Ball Page 3
