But I was nothing, if not resourceful. I had a plan. It wasnʼt a fool-proof plan. It wasnʼt even a good plan. But it was a plan. And on Christmas Day, I was going to put my plan into action Chapter 9
Christmas is a time of family gatherings, which sounds great unless have more sets of grandparents than clean socks. It took two days and endless patience to get through our multitude of family celebrations that included each of Dadʼs divorced parents, Momʼs ever-expanding family, and an evening with Talley and her mom, who were considered family since Mrs. Matthews had baby-sat Jase and me since we were babies.
On Christmas morning, Angel woke everyone up with screams of, “He came! Santa came!
Scout! Jase! Presents!” at six oʼclock in the morning. I hoped he had brought her a watch and sense enough to let me sleep. After ripping open our ridiculously large mound of presents (including Angleʼs new kitty, Elf, that promptly hissed at Jase and attempted to claw out my eyeballs), Jase and I headed down to the Base for the Hagan Family Christmas.
My spirits lifted the moment I stepped through the door of the quaint log cabin tucked into the woods. Part of it was due to the delicious smell that wafted from the kitchen, making my stomach completely forget the abuse from the previous two days and growl as if I hadnʼt eaten in weeks. Part of it was the magical atmosphere created by hundreds of twinkling lights and decorations that covered every inch of the house. Part of it was the sound of Christmas carols being played on acoustic guitars. But mostly, it was because of the boy who gathered me into his arms and spun me around the room.
“God, Iʼve missed you,” Charlie said, setting me on my feet. He held me at arms length, looking me over.
“Well, do I pass inspection?”
Charlie screwed his mouth up to one side, which made him look ridiculous and adorable at the same time. “I thought you were supposed to be orange with a splattering of black and blue.”
For once in my life, I was grateful to be a whiter shade of pale. “Itʼs all faded away, except for a rather spectacular spot on my bum that has turned an unnatural color of greenish yellow.” I regretted the words the second they were out of my mouth, but only because that was the moment Gramma Hagan decided to shuffle in from the kitchen. Jase was trying so hard not to laugh that he had tears rolling down his cheeks by the time she finished lecturing me on appropriate conversation topics for proper young ladies.
Later, when we gathered around the tree, Charlie placed a small blue package in my lap. I eagerly ripped through the paper to uncover a vintage looking necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a hippo decked out in a tutu and toe shoes.
“Do you like it?” Charlie asked, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. “I bought it at one of those hipster-cool stores down by campus. I canʼt walk into one of those without thinking about how much you love that sort of stuff.”
I fingered the tiny piece of metal as he secured the clasp. “I love it. Itʼs perfect.” And it was.
It was funky and cool without being ostentatious. I didnʼt plan on ever taking it off.
#
Jase managed to score the latest gaming system from his grandparents and a nice stack of new games from Uncle Charles and Aunt Diane. Jase and Charlie immediately went to set it up in what Gramma Hagan called “the back parlor” and everyone else referred to as “Uncle Charlesʼs old room”.
At first I took turns racing cars through candy-colored landscapes and engaging psychotic bunnies in some fairly inane competitions with Jase, Charlie, and Layne, Charlieʼs somewhat demented twelve year old nephew. Eventually, though, Layne got tired of not getting our jokes and went to do something infinitely more Layne-ish, like torturing small animals. I soon after remembered how much I hated video games and tapped out. Jase and Charlie pretended to be disappointed, but really they were just excited to tear into the new two-player shooting game they had both been drooling over since Jase opened it.
I spent the majority of the evening snuggled into Charlieʼs side on the love-seat, watching as they valiantly attempted to defend the world from...something.
“Iʼm confused,” I finally admitted. “Are they aliens or zombies?”
“Theyʼre obviously zombified aliens,” Jase said as he shot one between the eyes, causing brain matter to splatter on the screen.
“Zombie aliens are the number one risk to truth, freedom, and the American way,” Charlie informed me. “Thereʼs a special government task force to address that very issue.”
“And the clowns?” I asked as a grenade blew a mime to smithereens.
“Clowns are just evil,” said Jase. “End of discussion.” I watched the carnage unfold on the screen for a few more minutes before reluctantly hefting myself away from Charlie.
“Where are you going?” he asked, pulling his eyes away from the television for the first time in over an hour.
“I need some Tylenol. All this brain rottage is giving me a headache.” I grabbed my bag from the corner and began making an oral inventory of its contents. “Gum. Sunglasses. Phone.
Sour Patch Kids. Tissues. Angelʼs pink plastic puppy. Alexʼs pen. Huh, guess that one is mine now. Wallet. I have a Tootsie Roll from the Bush administration, but no Tylenol. Great.” I sat my bag down between Charlie and Jase. “Iʼm going on a pain medication scavenger hunt. Anyone need anything while Iʼm gone?”
“Mello Yello,” Jase automatically responded.
“Make that two,” said Charlie. “And some of those cookies with the red raisin things in them.”
“And a ham sandwich on one of those rolls with some hot pepper cheese and mayo,” Jase added.
“Oh, I want one of those, too. And a piece of pumpkin pie with the whipped topping that comes out of a tub, not the weird stuff from a can.”
The sad thing was, neither of them were kidding.
I grumbled to myself the entire way to the kitchen, resolving to only take back drinks.
Charlieʼs older brother was leaned against the counter, eating the last of the Snickers Salad directly from the bowl. “Hey. Whatʼs up?”
“Harper,” he mumbled, the only indication I got that he noticed my presence.
I was rummaging through the cabinets for some glasses the boys wouldnʼt accidentally crush into a million little pieces when I heard someone behind me. I jerked to the left, barely escaping the blow aimed at my head. My feet were immediately swept out from under me, sending me face-first into the counter. I rolled, my leg arching through the air until it made contact, sending my assailant into the pie safe. My fist shot out, but he managed to catch my wrist and pin me back onto the counter.