Holiday Spirit

by Zoe Evans

  “Well, yeah, it’s not something I want to make a habit of, but Jacqui and the squad are being cool about it. But seriously, thanks for your support,” I added sarcastically.

  Despite the Negative Nancy mood Evan was in, I ended up staying to watch movies with him. But things between us were definitely awkward. He didn’t share the blanket on his couch with me like he usually does. And he didn’t laugh at any of the jokes I made about the movies. The whole rest of the night he just seemed to actually be . . . upset. Weird, right? I knew he’d be a LITTLE bummed that we won’t be hanging out like we usually do every year. I am too. But now that I’m thinking about the way he acted today, I’m kind of thinking, what gives him the right to give ME a guilt trip? It’s not like I’m the only one who’s been busy-he’s been doing stuff too: working on SuperBoy and hanging out with Katie. Although come to think of it, I haven’t heard about them hanging lately. Maybe something happened? Which could explain his ’tude. Maybe he’s a cranky-pants in general BECAUSE he and Katie actually haven’t been hanging out as much. I know that they aren’t, like, a couple or anything, but he definitely likes chilling with her. So maybe he was hoping I’d be a distraction this week . . . perhaps should try to get some info from Lanie on this? Nah . . . she hates being in the middle. Grrr.

  I don’t know. I guess what’s really bothering me is that in the old days, I wouldn’t have had to guess at what was bothering him like I am right now. AND, in the old days I used to be able to just call him out on things and say, “Ok, what’s your deal?” But now it doesn’t feel the same. All this guessing about his feelings is making me feel a little nauseous. Or maybe it was all that hot chocolate. Ugh.

  I kinda can’t believe it’s New Year’s. The whole idea of starting a new calendar year in the middle of the school year just feels so, well, lame. I mean, sure we get a break and all, but we come back to school in the same place, taking the same classes, with the same people. I don’t know, it just feels like the new year should bring about change. BUT, no time to worry about that now. Mom and I will have plenty of time to deal with that later on tonight when we usher in the ball drop. (And my insides squirm with delight seeing the Big Apple on TV and knowing that in just one short day I’ll be there!!)

  Now there are more important things at hand. Like the fact that I just came back from my Bon Voyage date with Bevan. It was his idea that we get together one last time before I leave for New York. So sweet, right??! We went to see a cute romantic comedy with Reese Witherspoon, and when we got there he was like, “You find seats. I’ll get snacks.”

  I got us two seats in the middle of the theater, but near the aisle. I don’t know why, but that’s my usual movie spot. I like the view, but I hate that we always have to stand up to let other people squeeze past so they can get to the middle of the row. When he came back from the concession stand, he handed me my favorite candy (gummy worms, of course).

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  He smiled slyly. “I pay attention to these things,” he said.

  As soon as the previews were over, I felt his hand creeping toward the edge of my seat. I was like, um . . . am I supposed to put my hand over his??? I was too nervous to do it, though. Finally, after the opening credits, he made The Big Move, and put his hand over mine. We stayed like that the entire movie. About halfway through the movie, I put my head on his shoulder and noticed he’d put some cologne on. Fancy, fancy!

  When we walked out of the theater, it was serious glacier weather outside-way too cold to walk home.

  So Bevan asked if his mom could come pick us up and drive me home. Luckily, she didn’t want us to turn into icicles either, so she came in less than five minutes. But when she pulled up to the theater parking lot in her enormous pickup truck, everyone was staring. It’s not every day that you see a woman who is as pretty as a J. Crew model driving a monster truck. She even wears these huge work shirts that cover most of her body.

  She’s so cool that when we got to my house she announced she would “take a little spin around the block,” which obviously meant she wanted to give us our privacy while we said good-bye. Only mildly embarrassing.

  As Bevan and I stood by my door, I think I was waiting for him to tell me that he’d reconsidered and didn’t want me to go away. That didn’t happen.

  “You’re going to have so much fun,” he said, holding both my hands as we stood across from each other.

  “Yeah, I know, I can’t wait.”

  I did my best not to show that I was a little disappointed by his nonchalant attitude. I know that he isn’t exactly HAPPY I am going away. He just genuinely wants me to have a good time. But I think I wanted Bevan to be like, “Nooooooo! Don’t go!!!!!” and beg me on his knees to stay. Ooh! Or to do a little cheer like, “Oh Maddy, When You’re Gone I Go Batty!”

  Not that I would listen. I just wanted to hear how much he was going to miss me. Tears would have been a nice touch. Ok fine, that’s a little extreme, but what I’m saying is, even though I don’t really WANT to feel guilty about leaving him, it would have been nice if he gave me a little bit of a harder time about it. I can’t help but think about Evan’s reaction to my going-and how even though it’s annoying to be given a guilt trip, it’s nice to feel missed. Is it weird that my best guy friend doesn’t want me to leave, but my boyfriend is all for me leaving? Something is wrong with this picture. . . .

  Bevan did do something cute, though: Right before I turned to go inside, he handed me a note, folded into a tiny square. “Don’t read it until you’re on the plane,” he said seriously.

  “Why? Is there a secret message in there?” I asked.

  “No.” He smiled. “It’s the rule about plane letters. You can’t read them until you’re actually on the plane.”

  “Ooookay,” I said, smiling back. “Talk to you soon.”

  “Yep. Bye,” he said, before turning back to go to his mom’s car.

  “Hey!” I called out after him. “Happy New Year!”

  “Happy New Year, Mads.”

  Now it’s time to go sit in front of the tube, eat lots of hors d’oeuvres off fancy plates, and welcome in the New Year with Mom.

  We even bought those dorky party hats and some kazoos so we can cheer when the ball drops. All in all, a perfectly acceptable send-off day for my trip. Woohoo!!

  Seriously, what is it with airplane movies? Do they purposely choose the saddest ones because the stewardesses get a kick out of making passengers cry? I just watched what must have been a straight-to-DVD movie about a guy and his loyal canine friend. The guy dies and the dog waits for him at the train station for years, hoping he’ll come out of the station door. I seriously went through a whole mini pack of tissues by the end of it.

  And now I’m in a melancholy mood.

  For some reason (maybe it’s because I’m not being distracted by a dumb airplane movie right now), I can’t stop thinking about the way Evan acted when I was at his house the other day after I told him I was going away. It was like we’d never see each other again. Drama queen much? C’mon, it’s only a week! Which I guess is long for, like, Evan and Maddy time (at least in the old days). But it’s not like I up and go on fantastic vacations to New York all that often.

  Wait. Total flashback happening. What was that INSANE thing that Katie said to me on the bus back from the Regional Qualifier? That Evan has the hots for MOI!! How did I forget about that comment until now? Could THAT be why he acted so weird and why he’s so upset that I’m leaving? No. There’s not a chance Katie was serious. And even if she was, she must have had her information waaayyyy wrong. There’s just no way he feels like that about ME. We’ve been friends since we were five. We built pillow fortresses together. I mean, it just wouldn’t make sense. I don’t even know why I’m considering the possibility. Because the chances of me and Evan getting together? Almost as impossible as me finding a comfortable position in this dumb seat on the plane. Ouch.

  Anyway, after the awful/sappy movie (and the supe
r-sappy Evan thoughts), I put on my iPod and vegged out for a bit. When I opened my eyes, the stewardess was centimeters away from my face. I nearly jumped out of my seat-but obvs couldn’t exactly jump (thanks to my seat belt and TSA regulations!).

  “Miss, would you like another 7UP?” asked the stewardess. Her breath smelled like tomato juice. Guess she’d been sampling some of the airplane’s stock. PS-I HATE tomato juice.

  “Um, sure,” I said. One reason I hate flying is that every two minutes someone is asking you to either get up, sit down, drink something, eat something, or listen to someone scare the pants off you because of reported turbulence. But my biggest flying peeve is that I am always so sore from practice and yet I can’t stretch out without picking someone else’s nose by accident.

  This is something Dad and Beth don’t really have to worry about, because Miss Fancy Flier has so many miles from all her business trips she scored them seats in first class.

  Mom was actually annoyed when I told her about me sitting in coach. She said, “Why should you be treated like a second-class citizen while they travel like celebrities?” I didn’t really care, and I knew Mom was just annoyed that Dad never did things like travel first class when they were married. And I know them sitting there and me sitting here isn’t anything personal.

  But I was curious.

  So I decided to wander over to where my dad was sitting. When I got to the curtain that separated first class from the rest of us, one of the stewardesses was like, “Excuse me, miss, but is your seat here?”

  “Uh, um, no,” I stuttered. “But my dad is sitting here, and I need to tell him something.”

  “The first class area is for first class only,” she said, as if she were reading from a manual.

  “Yes, but I need to tell him something important.”

  Ok, so that was a lie, but just a tiny one.

  She grimaced as if the thought of allowing me through put her in great pain. Then finally she nodded her head to tell me it was all right for me to pass. Guess she was bending Ye Olde Airplane Rules in a major way and didn’t want anyone to know she approved of my trespassing.

  Dad and Beth were sipping cappuccinos and reading their magazines when I came up to them. I don’t know how people do that. I just can’t concentrate on reading when I’m on a plane. I always think I’ll do homework, or read a magazine, but I get so antsy two minutes into it. But Dad and Beth looked pretty absorbed in their mags.

  I tapped Dad on the shoulder.

  “Oh, hi, hon,” he said, removing his glasses. “How you doing back there?”

  “I’m surviving,” I said, with a shrug.

  “You teaching the other passengers some killer cheer moves?”

  “Please don’t say ‘killer.’ Hey, did you get any cookies or anything?”

  Dad smiled. “Indeed I did,” he said, unwrapping a chocolate chip cookie from a linen airplane napkin.

  “Awesome,” I said, taking a bite. Mmmm. Still warm.

  I crouched down as close to his seat as possible so as not to disturb the other passengers with my non-first-class presence.

  “So, Dad, I was wondering-is our hotel anywhere near Times Square?” I was hoping it was, because I know that’s where all the Broadway shows are. And even better, it’s not that far a walk to the Garment District-at least that is what Wikipedia said.

  “We’re staying at a boutique hotel that Beth likes on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It’s quite a walk from Times Square.” He cast Beth an adoring look. “But you know how much Beth and I love to walk.”

  That’s funny. He used to hate walking anywhere when I was a kid. He’d take a car to go to our next-door neighbor’s house. Hmm. Walking in the icy cold winter air-not exactly my idea of a good time. Isn’t New York famous for its taxicabs?

  Then I remembered the list of things to do in New York that Bevan had given me, and there were a few fun-sounding things on the Upper West Side. Like a flea market that sells cool vintage accessories and clothes and is always open no matter how cold it is. I’ll have to tell Dad I have some ideas of my own about what we should do this week.

  “Madison, would you care for my pillow?” asked Beth. Ok, so that was kind of nice of her. I probably should have said, “No, gracias,” because I’m sure she was just offering it to impress my dad, and deep down would have liked to keep her special pillow. But the part of me that was like, “Yay! Now I’ll have a slightly less awful flight!” took it anyway.

  I squeezed past a bunch of people whose legs were taking up half the aisles. I’m just grateful that my seat partner is a tiny old lady who takes up only about half her seat. She’s clearly a bit strange, but at least I can breathe sitting next to her. The only annoying thing is that the old lady brought her cat with her on the plane and keeps talking to it the whole ride. But since the cat has to be stowed in its carry case under the seat, it looks like she’s just talking to the floor whenever she leans down to say hi to the cat. Every two minutes she’s like, “Here, kitty, kitty! Mommy loves you! Do you love Mommy?” And then her cat gives a loud “Meow!” back to her. Then she looks over at me and smiles, like I should recognize the brilliance of her cat being able to have conversations with humans. I’ve given in and smiled back at her at least five times in a row, to be polite, but after the tenth time, I decided it’s time to pretend not to hear her.

  At one point I was so bored I was about to count my split ends-and then I remembered!! Bevan’s note.

  It was crumpled into one of the little pockets on the inside of my backpack-I guess where you’re supposed to keep secret things like your ID and keys and stuff like that. On the back of it, it said, “For Your Plane-Reading Pleasure Only! No Peeking!” Wow, he was really serious about these plane letter rules.

  I unfolded it and smoothed it out against my jeans.

  Dear Maddy, by the time you read this you’ll be on your way to your cool vacay (hey, that rhymes). If it snows in New York, take pics! There’s nothing like the big city covered in snow. Especially Central Park. Don’t let your dad or Beth annoy you too much, and make sure you see some of the things on the list I gave you. You won’t be disappointed. I’ll be missing you.-B.

  I feel a little better now .

  And if you looked really closely, you could see a teeny, tiny circular stain . . . a teardrop, perhaps???

  When we got to the hotel last night, I was so tired I was barely able to register what the place looked like. I felt like a zombie. I guess I needed a rest after all the insane workouts we’ve been doing with the Grizzlies.

  I think I just collapsed onto the comfy mattress, threw the thick comforter over my head, and fell asleep right away. Didn’t even brush my teeth. Yuck.

  But I just woke up, and now that I’m actually looking around, I’m realizing what they say about New York hotels is true: This room is as small as my bathroom at home. It is crazy! I mean, it’s pretty and everything-but basically all I have is this big ol’ bed in here and a shelf with a TV on it, and that’s practically it. Whoever designed this room must have been thinking stick figures would do really well living here. T.G. I am not sharing a room with Dad and Beth. Talk about too close for comfort. At least I have my own bathroom.

  But still, I can’t really complain. My own hotel room! How cool is that? I’ve never had a hotel room all to myself before. The walls are covered in this old-fashioned wallpaper that has a swirly flower pattern, and my window has long, velvety, floor-length drapes the color of wine. I feel like I’m inside an antique dollhouse.

  Once I realized that there was no closet, I squeezed all my stuff into the thimble-size dresser. Then I started to get pretty antsy, so I tried to do some exercises. There’s no way I’m going to let myself get totally out of shape while every other cheerleader is working twice as hard this week. But it IS going to be hard to practice real cheer stuff in here when I can barely lift my leg without hitting the door. Too bad this hotel doesn’t have a gym. But I guess anything is better than nothing.


  I took the tiny chair that was in the corner and propped it so the back was against the bed. It was just right for doing some triceps dips. Then I lay on the floor (I know, kind of gross-who knows how old this carpet is?) and did some major sit-ups until the phone rang.

  “Hey, Mads, you ready?” said Dad in his chipper morning voice.

  “I haven’t even showered yet.”

  “Well, get dressed, sleepyhead. We’re going to explore the neighborhood.”

  “Twenty minutes?”

  “Yep.”

  I’m not exactly the fastest person in the world when it comes to getting ready (also, I had to write my first New York City journal entry). I rifled through my drawer and tried to put together an outfit that said, “So Not a Tourist.” No Hawaiian shirts and camcorders for me! Blech.

  I opted for a baby-doll dress with little flower buds on it, and layered a chunky cable-knit cardigan over it. Then I put on some heavy-knit tights (fashionable AND practical!) and my favorite walking boots. Perfection (if I do say so myself)!

  Ok, so I’m about to go check out this place. More later!

  NIGHT, HOTEL LIBRARY

  First of all, I like this part of New York a lot. Dad, Beth, and I wandered around near our hotel all day today, and it was so much fun. We went to this little café that was in one of my dad’s favorite movies. He said the movie was about a woman who writes to this guy and becomes pen pals with him, until they finally meet and she realizes the guy she’d been writing to is this guy she can’t stand. Anyway, the café was so pretty, with all these French paintings on the walls. (Beth told me that they were by a guy named Toulouse-Lautrec.) I ordered the “New York Brunch” because, hey! I’m in New York. The plate came arranged so cutely: a bagel, cream cheese, tomatoes, capers, lettuce, and smoked salmon. I, like, completely inhaled it. See, I’m a New Yorker already . Even though I was stuffed, Beth insisted that we try a couple of their famous desserts. My FAVE was their angel food cake. So soft and fluffy!