Abby's Christmas

Mrs. Davis made us sit in alphabetical order. How stupid is that? The boy in the desk next to mine is Noah Blake. He’s shorter than me and really skinny. I heard he went to Porter Elementary but got transferred to New Skye Elementary because he caused so much trouble. I didn’t see him do anything wrong today. His T-shirt was too big and his jeans were too short and his arms were covered with purple bruises. He didn’t say anything all day, and sat by himself at lunch and recess. I think he’s scary.

And I think Dixon has a crush on Kate Bowdrey. I’m glad it’s not me—boys are too much trouble.

April 1, 1982

Dear Diary,

Mrs. Davis assigned partners for our end-of-the-year project today. April Fool’s for me—I have to work with Noah Blake. He hasn’t said a word to me all year long, now we’re supposed to work together on the biggest project all year. We have to pick a historic building, make a model and write about it. A North Carolina building, of course, not something neat like the Taj Mahal or the Eiffel Tower. We got fifteen minutes at the end of the day to talk about what building we want. Noah just shrugged when I asked him what he wanted to do. But when I named some buildings—the state capitol, the courthouse here in New Skye, the lighthouse at Cape Hatteras—he rolled his eyes or sneered. He doesn’t like my ideas, but he doesn’t have any of his own. Stupid boy. I don’t think he has lunch money—I hardly ever see him eat.

June 4, 1982

Dear Diary,

This was the last day of fifth grade and the worst day of my life. I stayed up until almost midnight writing the paper for my history project with Noah. He built the model of Fort Fisher at his house and was bringing it in this morning for our presentation. When I got to school, the model was on my desk—smashed to pieces, like somebody punched their fist into the fort about ten times. Noah didn’t show up for school. I read the paper to the class, and Mrs. Davis said she wouldn’t take marks off on the model—you could tell it had been beautiful, made out of little sticks like the boards at the real fort, with bunkers covered by green felt for grass and a flag and cannons. I don’t know what happened to it. I’m wondering if Noah’s okay.

August 13, 1982

Dear Diary,

I saw Noah at the county fair tonight. I was behind this guy in line, and something about his shoulders, about the way he stood, made me sure it was him. But he was with a girl—she looked like she was about sixteen. I didn’t say anything to make him turn around. I decided I didn’t want a funnel cake after all and went for a pretzel instead.

He looked really cute.

September 4, 1982

Dear Diary,

The first day of middle school was weird. Changing classes freaks me out—I’m sure I’m going to be late every time. I have at least one class with just about everybody I know, but I only have lunch with Pete and Adam and Rob. Dixon still stares at Kate like he could eat her up, and she doesn’t even realize it.

Even weirder than the classes was when Noah came up behind me at the water fountain after lunch. I turned around and—boom!—he was there. I had water dripping off my chin, of course. He grew about six inches over the summer, because he’s taller than me now. His jeans weren’t too short. He had a black eye, and his hair was longer.

He said he was sorry about the history project last June—he’d tripped when he was carrying it in and smashed it all up. I said it was okay, because I got an A on the paper. He said Mrs. Davis made him write a paper on his own and he’d managed to pass. I asked him about the black eye, and he said he got hit by a baseball he meant to catch. Why do I feel like that’s not how it happened?

I thought about him a lot this summer, and I can’t stop thinking about him now that I’ve seen him again. But we don’t have classes together and Dad wants me to start working afternoons at the diner to give Mom a break, so unless Noah comes over after school, I probably won’t see him at all this year.

He won’t miss me. And I shouldn’t miss him. But sometimes when Mrs. Davis would say something really silly, I’d see Noah trying not to laugh. I’m going to miss sharing the laughs.

I’m going to miss Noah, period.

STOPPED AT THE RED LIGHT two blocks from home, Abby glanced down at the dog on the passenger seat. “What am I going to do with you? You’re too dirty to let into the house, and I’m pretty sure you have fleas, because my arm itches. Where can I get you a bath?” He hunched his skinny shoulders but wagged his tail at the same time. “That’s not an answer.”

In the end, she left Noah’s dog with Carly Danvers, a friend from high school who’d built a nice little business grooming and boarding dogs. Carly promised to bathe and dip the little guy and then leave him on the porch at the Brannon house when he was dry, with food and water and a soft dog pillow to lie on. All he needed now was a name.

That would be Noah’s contribution, Abby hoped.

She returned to the diner well before the dinner rush started, to find her dad stressing out over her absence.

“You just lock the place up and disappear?” Charlie Brannon stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips, a squarely built man with the posture and haircut of a marine drill sergeant. “You don’t call or leave a note? I was looking in the broom closet, expecting to see your body headfirst in the mop bucket.”

Abby winced and went to fold her arms around his bulky shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be gone long enough for you to notice.” To be strictly honest, though, she hadn’t given him a thought since Noah had walked through the diner door.

“Yeah, well.” His voice softened with the hug. “Where’d you go?”

To gain some time, she shrugged out of her coat and went to hang it up in that same broom closet. “Um…I went to see Mrs. Blake.”

“Weren’t you there just yesterday? She call you and complain, as usual?”

“No, no.” Abby took a deep breath. “Actually, Noah stopped by this afternoon.”

“Noah?” Her dad’s heavy dark brows drew together. “You mean Noah Blake?”

“That’s right. He’s come back.”

“What’s that troublemaker want here? I thought he was gone for good.”

“He’s not a troublemaker, Dad.” The accusation made her furious.

“I don’t know what he’s like now. But when you kids were in school, he raised more hell than this town could handle. Including burning down the school two weeks before graduation.”

“He did not burn down the school.” She stomped into the cold room, brought back the pot of stew she’d made for tonight and slammed it onto the burner. “Nobody burned down the school—there was a fire in the principal’s office, that’s all. And Noah didn’t set it.”

“Of course he did. I saw his motorcycle over there not ten minutes before the fire truck showed up. So why is he back now?”

“He didn’t say.”

“And why did you go to his mother’s house? Did he forget the address?”

Abby bit her tongue. “He thought he would…surprise her. But I thought Mrs. Blake might need a little support, since she’s been sick so much. So I went along to…smooth the way.”

“Did you?”

Trust Charlie to ask the really hard question. “I…don’t know.” Bitter and sick, Mrs. Blake was never easy to get along with. But her reaction to Noah’s arrival hadn’t been anything like Abby expected. “Noah brought a dog with him, a stray he rescued on his way here.”

Charlie snorted in disbelief.

“And the dog got loose in the flower beds—”

“And Marian Blake started squealing.”

Abby sighed. “Something like that.” With belated guilt, she realized she should probably warn Charlie about the dog.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” her dad said, starting on the salads for dinner. “Bad enough the boy didn’t let her know he was coming. Showing up with some mutt has to be the stupidest thing he’s done in a while. I was there the day in third grade when Marian got chased across the playground by a dog. German shepherd, it was.”

He shook his head. “Dog just wanted to play and when Marian ran away screaming, it thought she’d invented a new game. By the time the rest of us kids got there, the shepherd had her flat on her back under the pine trees and was licking her face off. She didn’t come back to school for a week, she was so hysterical.”

“That’s horrible.” Abby stirred the stew and then went to the pantry for cans of green beans. Noah couldn’t know his mother’s story, or he wouldn’t have brought the dog home with him. But there was obviously no hope of convincing his mother to take the poor animal into her house. Which meant…

“So you chased the dog off, and then what?”