Carols and Crushes

by Natalie Blitt

  “We should head to practice,” I say reluctantly. We do need to really be on top of our game.

  “We’ve practiced all week. Maybe we could skate first and then practice?” Renee suggests. She hasn’t moved her gaze from the skaters, and I find myself being pulled along. I’m even wearing what would be a cute skating outfit: my brown wool pleated skirt with matching tights, an oversize navy knit sweater that used to belong to my dad when he was in college, and a matching scarf and hat set. And while so much of that is hidden beneath my long coat, if we were skating, I’d get warm and then I’d probably be able to take off the coat and …

  “I have to get home by five, so I don’t think I could do both,” Matthew says. “But if you want to skate instead of caroling, I’m down with that. We’ve been doing a lot of singing, and it wouldn’t be bad to have a break.”

  Matthew stares at Renee, and not for the first time, I wonder if she has an admirer. That would be a huge coup to have a guy like Matthew Yee interested in her. It’s sad to say, but at our school, just the interest of a popular guy—or girl—makes a difference.

  And maybe then I wouldn’t feel so bad whenever I see her and Eric together.

  I shift my gaze to Eric. I don’t need a popular guy to be interested in me. I’ve always been interested in Eric. He may not be a sports star like Matthew, but I’ve liked him even before he shot up in height, back when he was just skinny and short.

  “I’m fine either way.” Eric smiles, being agreeable just like always. “It’s up to you guys.”

  “Please, please, please,” Renee begs, her hands clasped in prayer. “It’ll be so fun and I don’t think most people even know that it’s open, so it’s pretty empty.”

  Maybe Matthew will want to skate with Renee, and then Eric and I can skate together. Maybe we’ll even hold hands, and it’ll start to snow and …

  I know that conversations are happening around me, but I don’t tune in until I hear my name.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I said we should do it.” Matthew shrugs. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve been on skates. For the sake of the school basketball team, any chance you’ll help me out, Charlie?”

  I’m grinning so hard at the possibility of being on ice that I don’t realize he’s asking me and not Renee, until I’m already nodding my head.

  “Wait, Renee is actually a much better skater—” I begin, but Renee and Eric are already halfway across the street. I glance at Matthew and he gives me a winning smile.

  “Please?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But you better not drag me down.”

  * * *

  Since it’s opening day, the ice rink is loaning out skates for free and the ice is fresh and clean. Like Renee predicted, it’s also pretty empty. That and they’re playing Christmas music, which is totally perfect. Especially since Matthew doesn’t seem to mind that I’m singing along. At full voice.

  It takes a few times around the rink before I’m in the skating groove and feel ready to dump my coat on a bench.

  For all Matthew’s warnings, he’s actually not a bad skater, just rusty. At first I try to give him pointers, but given his quick progress, I’m able to focus on how great it feels to be on skates.

  I know that most people hate winter, and that my cousins in Arizona don’t understand how we can live in this cold weather. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I can’t imagine Christmas without the lights twinkling against the bright snow, or the trees with their very real icicles. Sledding, skating, and downhill skiing are my favorite forms of exercise, and while I’ve never tried snowshoeing or cross-country skiing, I’m sure I’d like them, too.

  Also, if I lived in a place without winter, I’d miss my beloved cold-weather clothes. Like turtlenecks and thick sweaters, tights and tall boots. And mittens. I have an unhealthy obsession with mittens.

  “What are you thinking about?” Matthew asks. We’ve gotten into an easy rhythm of skating side by side, our strides just about in sync, and I’m positive that my face has the same glow that his does.

  “Just how much I love this weather,” I say. “And how I want to take my grandma up on her promise to teach me to knit over Christmas. Apparently I buy too many mittens.”

  Matthew’s smile is wide, and it doesn’t even bother me that up ahead, Renee is holding Eric’s hand as he wobbles on his skates. Because I’m getting to skate quickly right now, and as much as I’d love to hold hands with Eric, this is a fabulous substitute. There’s cool wind and warm muscles, and my cute skating outfit is, in fact, the perfect skating outfit.

  “So is the whole Dickens family as caught up in the Christmas spirit as you?” Matthew asks.

  I falter as I glance up at his face to see if he’s making fun of me. But Matthew’s eyes convey interest, not mocking.

  “My grandmother has always really been into Christmas. But I think my mom had overload growing up, so she’s not as much of a fan.” I focus on my strokes, right, left, right, left, and Matthew stays quiet.

  “Is this the same grandmother who’s going to teach you to knit?” he asks, and I look up in surprise. Sure, it wasn’t that long ago when I told him about it, but I didn’t really expect he was paying that much attention. I mean, we were just making conversation.

  I nod.

  “Sounds like you guys have a really special relationship. Just like Renee and her grandparents,” he says quietly. “I’m kind of envious.” His voice is soft, and I’m surprised he admitted that.

  “I feel lucky,” I admit. “Even though I don’t get to see her that often. She lives in Maine. But when she and my grandfather come to our house for Christmas, she and I make dozens and dozens of Christmas cookies. And she sneaks some decorations around the house, so it doesn’t have to be just in my room.”

  The noise of the other skaters fades away as I think about how much I look forward to her visit.

  “My dad’s parents died when I was little,” Matthew says. “And my mom’s parents live here, but they’re in a retirement community. They used to have this awesome house with a lake out back. And I’d sleep over when I was a kid, and my grandfather and I would go on these long walks and he could tell me about every different kind of bird we’d see. But now …”

  There’s a pause, and I wish I knew what to say. I can’t imagine my grandparents having to leave their big house in Maine. My dad sometimes laughs that my grandfather won’t leave until he’s carried out on a stretcher, but suddenly that doesn’t feel as funny as it usually does.

  “They just have a one-bedroom apartment at Auburn, and while it’s really nice and they’ve made it their own, it’s not the home that I remember.” Matthew pauses again, this time just briefly. “Sorry if that sounds dumb.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  We’ve stopped on the side of the rink, and I’m facing him. I never thought I’d be having such a long conversation with Matthew Yee, never mind having him share all this stuff about his family.

  “Can I ask you something?” I blurt. “Why are you in the chorus? You have so many things you’re already a part of; it’s not like you need more things to do.”

  Before Matthew can answer, we hear shouts and screams from across the ice.

  “Oh my god,” Matthew says. I whip around and see him racing to the center of the rink, where both Eric and Renee are now flat on the ice.

  “Help!” Eric yells, and that’s when I realize the screams are coming from Renee.

  * * *

  By the time I get to Renee, Matthew’s jacket is around her shoulders. There are two boys standing by who look like they’re probably in fourth grade or so, and seem vaguely terrified.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” I ask when I’m able to get through the crowd that has now gathered around them.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” one of the kids says, and he shoves his friend, hard.

  “Stop it,” orders Matthew.

  “They bumped into us,” Eric explains.<
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  Renee’s sitting up, but one leg is lying on the ice at an odd angle, and she’s sniffling.

  “We should take off her skate,” Eric suggests, but Matthew shakes his head.

  “Let’s carry her off the ice so she can warm up a bit. Sitting on the ice can’t be good for her.”

  “Let me.” A guy who works at the rink is pushing toward Renee, but there’s no way he’s out of high school, and he’s sliding all over the ice. I shift my eyes along the crowd until I see a man who looks like a dad.

  “Can you please help us?” I ask, and he’s picking Renee up off the ice before Skates Guy is even there. Everything is moving so fast, and yet so slowly. Renee weeps. By the time we have her settled on the bench with my long coat now covering her, we hear the wail of the ambulance.

  “Can you call my mom?” Renee stutters, and I nod quickly as the EMTs do some preliminary checks of her body. By this time, both of the boys responsible appear scared out of their minds, and one looks like he’s going to cry.

  “I’m so sorry,” one of the boys whispers, his face just as white as Renee’s. “I just haven’t been on skates for a long time and I wanted to go fast and I didn’t see you…”

  “Just be careful next time. You really could have hurt someone,” Eric says, his words gentler than I would have expected. But that’s not what really gets me. While Renee isn’t crying anymore, her face is void of all color and I’m glad she’s sitting down because otherwise I’d worry she was going to faint. And Eric is sitting by her side, his arm around her, and she’s leaning into him.

  I know it’s dumb, and I know Renee is hurt, but the combination of fear and anger and cold do ugly things to the inside of my body. I want to lash out. I want to displace Eric, shove Matthew in there instead. If he’d been skating with her, none of this would have happened.

  “He did hurt someone,” I snap. “If you hadn’t been so careless, Renee wouldn’t be lying here …” with Eric, I want to add. Somehow I manage to push those words down into my belly. But there’s more that has to come out.

  “Charlie, it was an accident.” Matthew’s voice comes from far away, and I can’t focus on it. Because right now Renee’s mittens are off and she’s holding on to Eric’s hands tightly, and I can see the concern on his face, and I hate how awful it makes me feel. If only Renee had been paying better attention to her surroundings. If she’d been skating with Matthew, she would have been okay. But no, she had to skate with Eric, even though she knew that I liked him. And now—

  “It might have been an accident,” I growl, “but that accident has messed up everything. How are we going to rehearse for the showcase spot if Renee has a broken leg? And if she drops out, we won’t have a soprano. And …”

  I know that the words coming out of my mouth are awful, but I don’t know how to stop them. All I can see is Renee and Eric, her head on his shoulder, her hands in his.

  And she’s crying now. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” Renee sobs. “The concert? You don’t care that my leg is hurting so much, and I’m going to the hospital and it might be …”

  She’s full-on sobbing now and the guilt is so thick inside me that it feels like it’s replaced the blood rushing through my body. My limbs feel cold and sluggish and the reality of what I just said comes down full force.

  “I’m …” I start, my eyes filling now.

  “Come on,” Matthew says, his words gentler than I deserve. “Let’s let them get Renee in the ambulance right now. And isn’t that her mom over there?”

  His tone soothes me, which succeeds only in making me feel worse about myself. I can’t believe I said all those things. But now Renee’s mom is here and she’s a tornado of movement as she rushes to her crying daughter.

  I take advantage of all the activity to slip away unnoticed. I trade my skates back for my boots and walk home, my watery eyes blurring my vision.

  What have I done?

  I spend the next day in bed. I tell my mom I’m sick, and for once, she believes me. But the truth is, I can’t deal with going to school. Renee hates me. I acted horribly, and in front of Eric and Matthew, no less. And there’s no chance we’ll get the showcase without Renee.

  Last night, when I got home, I started working on the “I’m sick” story so my family wouldn’t bother me. And today, when Mom comes knocking at the door, I pretend to be sleeping. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I throw in a hitch just for good measure. I hear a tray being lowered about fifteen seconds after the smell of tomato soup fills my room. Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, if I’m not mistaken.

  It’s hard to remember to keep pretending to be asleep when my stomach wants to pole-vault right out of my body and attack the food beside me.

  I have a zero percent chance of surviving a Zombie apocalypse, a fact that is only made more clear when my stomach groans in protest when I don’t jump on the food.

  I hold my breath, expecting that any minute now, Mom’s going to sit beside me on the bed, one hand on my forehead, smooth my hair back, and want to talk about why I’ve permanently banished myself to my room.

  Except she doesn’t. She does the hand on the forehead, the sweeping back of hair, but she doesn’t take a seat. Maybe I’m a better faker than I’d thought?

  “I talked to Renee’s mom. Unfortunately, it looks like Renee broke her leg. She’s home now but she’s apparently really exhausted, so Elyse said it would be better to wait to visit,” she whispers. “And by the way, the grilled cheese will taste better if you eat it while it’s still hot.” And with that, she shuts the door gently behind her.

  I let out the breath in a rush. And then pull myself up, grabbing one of the sandwich halves and my phone. Who cares about faking, or losing in the Zombie apocalypse—my mom’s grilled cheese is delicious. Though, before I allow myself a bite, I type out a text to Renee.

  Renee sends me back a thumbs-up emoji but nothing else. I’m really going to need to make this better.

  * * *

  I stay in my room for the rest of the afternoon, even when Sadie and Jed come home from school. I hear hushed voices from outside, Sadie whining, the hint of Mom’s calming voice. Jed dribbles his basketball for a while, and then when Mom yells up the stairs, he quickly shoves everything in his bag and races downstairs. I’m so used to his noises, I don’t even need to see everything to know. And then I count to four, until Jed races back up the stairs, and there’s the tossing around of stuff in his room until he finds what he’s looking for. My guess? His phone or his sports glasses. Right now he’s relaxed, but I know the next time he races up the stairs—from the car this time—he’s going to be in a bad mood.

  I don’t get why he can’t remember his stuff the first time. Especially since I can apparently predict with startling accuracy what he’s missing.

  Boys.

  Thinking about boys reminds me of the way Eric looked at me after I finished ranting.

  I can’t believe I said all those things.

  I can’t believe that Renee and I fought. That thought has me diving back under the covers for another pity party. Jed might not be able to remember his basketball equipment for his daily practices, but at least he didn’t yell at his best friend like a lunatic.

  * * *

  The house has been peaceful for an hour when there’s a knock at my door. I debate pretending to be asleep again, but the door opens before I have a chance, and Dad peeks his head in.

  “You have a visitor downstairs,” he says, with the hint of a wink.

  Or maybe he has developed a tic?

  But either way, my heart leaps. Because that means Renee is willing to talk to me, which means that maybe I didn’t utterly destroy our friendship.

  “It’s a boy,” Dad adds, and my heart drops.

  Except …

  “Wait, are you sure?”

  My dad chuckles. “Unless you know girls named Matthew? I mean, I might be wrong. Maybe I should go ask him—”

  “No, no!
” I jump out of bed, my feet tangling in the covers, which almost results in a graceful face-plant.

  Agh. What is Matthew doing here? Is he going to yell at me for how I treated Renee? Or …

  No. He must be here to yell at me.

  “But listen,” Dad is saying, “I have to go run some errands. Is it okay if I leave Sadie with you?”

  “Uh …” My head is still reeling from the knowledge that Matthew is downstairs right now. What is he doing here? “Of course,” I manage.

  “Maybe just get out of your pj’s before you go downstairs.” Dad winks again. “It could only help.”

  Pj’s are likely the least of my problems. I don’t even want to look in the mirror for fear that it will be clear I’m already part of the Zombie apocalypse.

  You’re beautiful just the way you are, Mom would say if she was here.

  A swipe of lip gloss and everything looks happier, Grandma would say.

  You could have an hour and you’d still look like a troll, Jed would say.

  And Sadie …

  I can hear her little voice with her tiny lisp that grows more pronounced when she’s around my friends who think she’s adorable. Shoot. Sadie must be down there with Matthew. And that propels me right out of the room. After a quick change of clothing, that is.

  Sure enough, Sadie is sitting beside a very amused-looking Matthew. She’s telling him the story of how she’s about 75 percent sure that the tooth fairy isn’t real, but that she goes along with it for Mom and Dad.

  Sure she does.

  It isn’t until I step on the last stair—the one that squeaks—that Matthew turns and sees me. The smile he gives me is wide and real, and maybe it’s possible he didn’t come to yell at me for my atrocious behavior?

  “Oh, you’re finally out of our room,” Sadie huffs, her advanced theatrics in full gear. Even though she’s only seven, she clearly has a bright future ahead of her in acting. “Mom said I couldn’t bother you while you were pouting—”

  “I wasn’t pouting. I didn’t feel well.”