by Kieran Scott
“Later, Paulie,” Dirk mouthed.
And then the Anti-Christmas Underground walked out of my life forever.
“Just try to stay out of trouble from now on, okay, son?” Officer Pie said, snapping his notebook closed as my mother hugged me from behind.
“I will, Officer,” I said, watching the empty doorway. “I definitely will.”
My eyes opened slowly at first, lazily, blinking back the sweet dreams that filled my groggy head. In the darkness my eyes found the clock. It was 4:32 A.M. Christmas Day. I pulled the covers more tightly up to my chin. The windowpanes were lined with frost; the air coming through the tiny crack I’d left open was crisp and fresh. I could feel the excitement rush from my toes all the way to my fingertips. It was Christmas. It had come after all.
Normally I would lie in my bed wide awake, counting the seconds until it was time to throw the Muppets Christmas CD on my stereo and crank it up to wake my parents. But this wasn’t a normal Christmas and I couldn’t wait a second longer to welcome it. I threw aside my covers and ran downstairs, not even trying to stay quiet.
I came around the corner and slid into the living room, where the tree was fully lit up. There weren’t many packages this year, but I wasn’t expecting many. I knew my parents were strapped for cash and I wasn’t sure if Santa would be stopping by this year, after everything I’d done. I fell on my knees and searched for my name on box after box. Finally, practically trembling with anticipation, I found one—a small one—with my name written on it in big block letters.
Holding my breath, I slid the top off the red-and-white-striped box, and I think I almost fainted. There, sitting on a bed of white cotton, was a single silver key with a black rubber knob. And across the knob in silver letters was written one beautiful word:
Jeep.
I dropped the box and ran outside, my bare feet slipping in the new blanket of snow. Sitting in my driveway was a pristine red Jeep Cherokee, definitely a previously owned model, but mine nonetheless. I walked over to it, placed my hands on the side window, and peered through the glass. Black leather interior, floor mats only slightly worn, pine-scented fir tree dangling from the rearview mirror.
My parents were the greatest.
I turned and walked slowly into the house to put the key back in its box so that I could open it all over again when my parents woke up. Maybe I would just let them sleep this year. They’d been through enough. And I could wait till . . . oh . . . six o’clock or so.
I smiled as I closed the door behind me. But even though I’d gotten the Jeep I’d been hoping for and even though the house was back to normal and my parents were happy and safe upstairs, I still felt like Christmas was not going to be complete.
There would be no grudging noontime call from Holly to find out what I’d gotten. There would be no day-after-Christmas get-together with her to have a noncelebratory pizza. There would be no looking into Holly’s mocking eyes as she teased me over my post-Christmas rundown.
I knelt down under the tree and replaced the key with a sigh. I was just thinking about dragging myself back to bed when I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. I stood up, my heart pounding, and suddenly Santa fell from the chimney into my fireplace, kicking up a cloud of soot.
“Santa!” I whispered.
He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, then dragged his sack out behind him. “Merry Christmas, Paul,” he said with a wink. “Thought I’d save the best house for last!”
“Wow,” I said, staggering back a few feet from the tree as he started to unpack his gifts. “I . . . I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
“Oh, Paul, you knew I’d be here,” Santa said as he placed a sizable box under the tree. He stood up and patted his hands against his legs, then looked down at his cracked, dirty boots. “Too bad you didn’t get to see me at the start of the night, though. Mama had those boots gleaming.”
“I’m sure she did,” I said with a smile.
“Well, now,” Santa said, picking up one of my mother’s fudge bars from the plate on the hearth. “Why the long face? Didn’t you get everything back to normal?”
“Almost everything,” I replied, tilting my head. “But there’s still something missing. . . .”
“Someone, you mean,” Santa said with a knowing look.
“I still haven’t heard from Holly,” I admitted.
“Well, Paul, Christmas isn’t over yet,” Santa said, smiling. “What are you going to do about it?”
I looked at the jolly old elf like he was crazy. What could I do about it? All I knew was that Holly was somewhere in Aspen. It wasn’t like I could just call her up and apologize and ask her to ditch her mother and come home. There was just no way. Unless someone suddenly handed me a Holly LoJack and a plane ticket, I was going to be spending Christmas Holly-free.
“Hmmm . . . ,” Santa said, laying a finger aside of his nose. “If only you had some way of locating her. Some . . . magical figure, perhaps, with a psychic knowledge of where all children are at all times around the world. Now . . . where might a boy in need find such a creature?”
The grin spread slowly across my face as I looked into Santa’s mischievous twinkling eyes.
“Did you say this was your last stop?” I asked him.
“I’m as free as a snowbird,” Santa said, widening his arms. He looked up at the ceiling, almost like he was looking past it to the roof, and smiled.
“Santa,” I said, picking up my jacket from a nearby chair, “I like your style.”
EPILOGUE
THE SUN WAS SHINING HIGH OVER THE MOUNTAINS AS my Jeep’s all-terrain tires rumbled over the snow-covered drive in front of Aspen’s Rocky Mountain Lodge. I looked up at the huge log cabin, decorated with twinkling white lights and covered in at least ten inches of snow, wondering which window was Holly’s. As I slowed the Jeep to a stop, I got my answer. A sliding glass door a couple of stories above me opened and out stepped Holly herself, wearing a red-and-black ski jacket, her hair tumbling over one shoulder. She walked to the wooden railing surrounding her veranda and leaned her elbows on it, staring out across the trees.
My heart stopped when I saw her. Somehow, in that moment, I fell in love at 5,255th sight.
But what was I supposed to do now? How was I going to explain how I’d found her . . . how I’d gotten here? How was I supposed to explain that I’d woken up this morning in New Jersey and shown up just a few hours later more than halfway across the country?
Holly closed her eyes and smiled as a breeze ruffled her hair. Man, she was beautiful. I climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Whatever I was going to say, I couldn’t wait to say it any longer.
“Holly!” I called out.
She jumped slightly, then looked down. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and her smile slowly widened. I couldn’t have been more relieved. A part of me had still thought she might not be so happy to see me—that she’d instantly start hurling snowballs in my direction.
“Paul?” she said. “What the heck are you doing here?”
But I didn’t have time to answer. Holly whirled around and disappeared into her room. I ran up the steps to the lodge and burst through the front door. The lobby was warm and cozy, thanks to the huge fire crackling and hissing in an old-fashioned stone fireplace. A ten-foot-tall tree laced with popcorn and cranberry strands stood in the corner. The entire place was trimmed with evergreen garlands and wreaths, poinsettias and twinkling lights. The scents of burning wood, fir trees, and cinnamon filled the air. It was like a Christmas wonderland.
Suddenly Holly appeared at the top of the wide staircase in her snow jacket and jeans. Our eyes met and she barreled down the steps. For a split second I thought she was going to throw herself into my arms, but she suddenly seemed to remember our fight and she stopped a couple of feet away from me. I could feel the few people who were milling around the lobby watching us. My heart was doing everything it could to make me very aware of its presence.
“What are you doing here?” Holly asked again. She held the fingertips of one hand with the fingertips of the other, looking cautious.
“I came here to tell you that—”
I stopped. This was too weird. This was Holly! Could I really tell her what I was thinking? What I was feeling? Her eyebrows came together as she stared at me.
“Paul?” she said.
This was insane. I hadn’t come all this way to say nothing. I took a few steps closer to her and tried again.
“I came to tell you that—”
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. I couldn’t do it. Not with her looking at me with those big green eyes. It was like she could see through me. And then, as we stood there, something came over her face. It was as if she suddenly lit up from within. She straightened herself up and smiled, understanding filling her eyes. I took a couple of steps closer.
“No fair not finishing a sentence, Nicholas,” she said lightly. “You’re breaking the Pact.”
My heart was slamming around in my chest and I started to sweat. There was so much to say and I couldn’t find a single word. All I wanted to do was . . .
And then I saw it. It was like somebody had put it there on purpose, anticipating my inability to articulate everything going on inside—my inability to make my move. It was exactly the motivation I needed.
Mistletoe.
Holly opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her with a kiss. I slid my hands under her soft hair and pressed my lips to hers and time just stopped. For a split second Holly didn’t move and I was petrified. Any second she was going to push me away and laugh in my face. But then I felt her hands on my back and I felt her pulling me closer to her and I smiled even as we kept kissing.
In that moment I realized I had done it. I had everything I wanted. It was Christmas and my father was okay and my mother had a new job and my house was fixed and Marge and Scooby had been caught and I . . . well . . . I was kissing the girl I loved. The girl I really, truly loved.
When we finally broke apart, we both smiled and I hugged her close to me, burying my face in her hair. Holly started to laugh and then I did, too. We had kissed, but we were still us. And as I stood there in the middle of a killer ski lodge in the middle of Aspen, Colorado, holding my best friend in the world, I swear I heard the sound of jingle bells jingling and a deep voice exclaim from somewhere out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
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Copyright © 2003 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy company
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September 2003
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eISBN: 978-0-307-43350-3
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