A Holiday to Remember

Mumbling and grumbling ensued, as the seven girls tucked and rolled themselves into their makeshift beds on the plush Persian carpet near the fire. Chris shifted a little in his chair, trying to get comfortable; between bruises and scrapes and a pulled shoulder, every inch of his body hurt in one way or another. He could hardly wait to lie down, even on a bare floor.

First, though, he would tell his story. Their story. The Juliet he knew couldn’t hold out against the truth spoken aloud. This Jayne mask she was wearing would crack at some point as she relived their time together. Then he would corner her, in front of seven witnesses, if necessary, and get the answers he needed.

“So,” he began, “they met the first time when they were thirteen years old.”

The pink rabbit person popped her head up. “What were their names?”

“Juliet,” he said. The headmistress narrowed her eyes, and he thought for a second she would stop him from telling the story.

When she didn’t say anything, he looked at the girls again.

“Juliet and…” Yolanda prompted.

“And…” What name could he use for himself? What would impress these girls?

“Romeo?” Monique snorted. “That’s so lame.”

“Nobody’s named Romeo these days,” Selena added. “Except dogs.”

“Chase,” Chris decided. “Juliet and Chase.” He thought it sounded like a soap opera couple. But when no protest greeted the announcement, he continued. “It was three days before Christmas….”

His grandfather had sent him to the general store for nails to fix a fence. Chase thought he’d get a bag of chips and a soda with the change from the ten dollar bill Granddad had given him.

Juliet was just wasting time, prowling the store aisles because she was tired of sitting around at her grandmother’s house, pretending to read.

It was just her bad luck that Chase glanced over as she dropped the candy bar in her coat pocket. Juliet didn’t even realize she’d been caught until he spoke into her ear from behind, “Gotcha!”

She jumped and looked around to see if anybody had heard him. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Keep your mouth closed and I’ll give you half.”

He shook his head. “Shoplifting’s a crime.”

“Like he’ll even notice it’s gone.” She nodded toward the man at the counter, who just happened to be a good friend of Chase’s granddad.

“Why don’t you just buy it?” She was pretty, which accounted for what he said next. “I’ll buy it for you.”

“That’s no fun.” She turned and started walking toward the door, pretending to look at the dish towels and pots on the shelves.

Chase watched her go, arguing with himself even while he noticed her long reddish hair shine in the light coming through the high windows. On the one hand, he should tell the store manager. That was the right thing to do. Only problem was, he’d look like a wuss and she’d hate him forever. At thirteen, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

While he was still debating, Juliet slipped out the door without a glance in the manager’s direction. He didn’t even notice her. She’d gotten away with stealing.

When Chase brought his nails and chips and soda to the counter, he found himself talking to Mr. Fletcher, the manager, who’d known him since he was about three years old. And he started feeling guilty for letting the girl get away with her crime. A thirty-five cent candy bar was no big deal. Still, Mr. Fletcher was a nice guy.

At the last minute, he said, “I almost forgot—I bought that girl a candy bar. A Snickers. Add that in.”

He left feeling more like Galahad than that Quisling guy they’d talked about in school.

Once out on the sidewalk, he looked around and saw her slouched on a bench just up the street, slowly eating the candy bar. Chase went to sit beside her, opened his chips and took a swig of his drink. But he didn’t say anything.

Finally, she said, “You bought it, didn’t you?”

He just nodded, pretending to finish chewing a chip.

“Wuss,” she told him.

From the floor in front of the fireplace, the seven Hawkridge girls groaned.

Chris grinned. “You can’t win when it comes to girls.”

Monique snorted. “Get on with the story.” She glanced at the headmistress’s disapproving face. “Please.”

“Right. So then…”

She gave a sideways glance. “What do you do around here for fun, anyway?”

“Besides shoplifting?”

Juliet jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“There’s plenty to do in the snow.” He glanced up at the sky—it had been a warm winter and they were only wearing sweaters. “Not much if there’s no snow.”

She sighed and raised her arms in the air. “Why am I here? What possible point is there to Christmas in this hick town?”

He finished his chips, balled the bag and tossed it toward the trash can, praying for a basket. But the bag bounced off the rim and fell on the sidewalk. Feeling his ears heat up, he retrieved the trash and dropped it in the container.

As he sat down again, though, he managed to casually turn his body toward her and prop his elbow on the back of the seat. In a few minutes he would stretch out his arm behind her shoulders. If he was really lucky, some of that shiny red-brown hair would brush his hand.

“I’m Chase,” he told her.

“Juliet.” She crushed the candy wrapper and pitched it at the trash can, where it landed without a sound.

“Are you from around here?” he asked, to distract from his hot, red cheeks.

“No way. I live in New York.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. If he’d had his arm stretched out, he could have caught some across his palm. “Manhattan, where there’s shopping and music, plays and people and a hundred things to do.”

“So why’d you come to the mountains?”

“My grandmother. She’s sick and she said she wanted to see me before she dies.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “She never wanted to see me before. I barely know the old bat, but I’m forced to spend a whole week trapped in the middle of nowhere.” Head bowed, the girl sat and sulked.

Chase took the chance to lay his arm across the back of the bench. “I’m here for the whole winter break. Got here on the twentieth and I’m stuck for three weeks.”

Finally, she seemed a little curious. “You’re not from here? Where do you live?”

“Philadelphia.”

“So you’re a prisoner, too.”

Chase shook his head. “Nah. In Philly I’m the prisoner. I get free when I come to visit my granddad.”