If this is the only slice of normal I’m going to get, I’m determined to make the most of it.
I’ve been cooking—something I’m getting good at since Nana’s arrival—and it’s a relief to escape the heat of the kitchen. Also, I’m dying to know what Gabriel got me—what he could’ve possible chosen for me before present shopping was even on my radar. Suddenly my gift to him has the potential to be inadequate, despite how carefully I selected and personalized it.
Before I can fret too much, Gabriel comes strolling up the walk wearing jeans and a forest green sweater. Halo shimmering, eyes sparkling with expectancy, and smiling from ear to ear, he carries a single bag clearly containing a bottle of wine. Radiant with joy, he nearly blinds me exclaiming, “Merry Christmas!”
Instantly I’m in his strong arms, his familiar scent pervading my senses—warm and outdoorsy, only with a hint more pine than usual.
And sugar cookies?
Then it hits me. Gabriel smells like Christmas!
Moments later other sensations register. His minty breath warming my temple. His lean body, one hundred percent teenaged boy, pressed tightly against me. His heart pounds as furiously as mine does—every beat clearly discernable despite our layers of clothes. Disentangling myself from his addictive embrace, I pull a deep breath of winter air into my lungs before exhaling in a sharp white burst.
Trying to break free of his effect, I raise an eyebrow at the bag with the wine. “Is that my gift?”
With a roll of his eyes and an impish smile, he says, “It’s a gift for your parents from
mine
.” Then slipping his hand into his coat pocket he produces a little gold box with a filmy bow. “This is for you.”
As anxious as I am to know what’s inside, I want him to open mine first. Slipping a brightly wrapped box from my own pocket, I thrust it at him, mumbling, “You first.”
Apprehensively I watch as he carefully opens my gift. I’ve gotten him and Derry the same thing, only different. When Gabriel takes the little blue frame out of the box, I hastily explain, “It’s a digital picture frame. It holds up to five hundred pictures but it also plays music. You can load two hundred songs into it, there are speakers on the sides, and it’s got a jack for headphones. I already loaded it with a playlist I created for you but I figure the pictures will be a work in progress.” Gabriel turns it on and my image appears on the 2x4 inch screen. Something I uploaded just this morning thanks to my new camera from Nana Kransky. “Right now this is the only picture on it,” I admit.
Gabriel turns to me, beaming. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” He leans in and brushes my cheek with his lips. Against my skin he murmurs, “Now mine.”
Taking the tiny package, I nervously unwrap it, trying to take as much care as Gabriel as I uncover a white fabric box. Easing it open with equal parts trepidation and eagerness, a soft gasp of surprise escapes my lips as I stare at the contents. Inside is a sparkling pendant hanging from chunky silver chain.
The details are exquisite. The sculpted, silvery angel wings in the shape of a heart. Not too girly or delicate, it’s exactly the type of necklace I would choose for myself. A plum-sized lump lodges in my throat. To cover my reaction, I hold up the beautifully crafted heart. “Thanks, but I’ve already got one of these.” I’m pleased with my clever joke, but when Gabriel doesn’t laugh as I intend, I add, “An angel heart.”
He regards me gravely. “They’re one and the same, Alexia.”
“Huh?”
“This,” he explains, indicating the pendant, “is just a symbol. So you can always be sure—and never forget—your guardian angel belongs to you.” He takes the gift from my hand and undoes the clasp. As I lift my hair in an invitation for him to fasten it around my neck, exquisite shivers tremble across the surface of my skin. He leans forward and reaches around me. His lips brush against my ear. “ Now you can keep my heart, next to yours.”
I realize the real gift is intended to be himself.
Letting Gabriel pull me into the shelter of his arms—enveloping me in a cocoon that is boy, angel and Christmas all rolled into one—I press my lips against the base of his throat and wish I could stay frozen like this forever. Instead, I use all my strength to pull away. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I say, “This is really beautiful. But I’m confused by your mixed signals.”
He jaw stiffens, a nearly imperceptible reaction, as the light in his eyes subtly changes into something controlled rather than spontaneous. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“Better how? What does that mean?” Lifting the angel heart from where it rests against my chest, I continue to challenge, “And what does this—” I shake the pendant for emphasis “mean?”
“It means what it means, Alexia. Let’s not argue about it. Please?”
He’s right. I don’t want to argue. Answers can wait.
Feeling suddenly contrite, I gently release the pendant. It settles heavily against my chest, just below the “V” of my sweater. With a tight smile, Gabriel reaches out to caress the angel heart. His fingers linger briefly at the neckline of my sweater as he lifts the pendant and slides it underneath the fabric to rest against my bare skin. The cool metal sends a flash of heat pulsing through my body. When he finishes, he gathers me to him. Melting into his Christmassy heat , I whisper, “I sorry.”
In the shelter of his arms, I think about what will happen when he leaves. I may have Gabriel’s token heart, but he certainly possesses mine. And when he goes, my heart will go with him.
*
When it’s time to return to school, a thick layer of fresh snow blankets the ground, for now. The ground will thaw and refreeze numerous times before the tenacious winter is finally vanquished by the rains of spring, but for the moment, the snow sticks. As Gabriel and I slip and slide our way along our seven blocks, clutching each other and occasionally falling on our butts as we goof around, I look forward to catching up with my friends. My present for Derry is in my backpack, carefully wrapped in a sweater alongside my new camera. In addition to our usual school bags today, Gabriel carries a huge duffel bag, also meant for my best friend.
When we get to Midlands, Derry’s waiting expectantly out front, his hands shoved into his pockets for warmth. Still wearing his shabby jacket and holey Converse, I wonder how long he has been standing in the January cold. Eyeing the duffel he asks, “Joining the military, Gabe?” Maybe it’s my imagination, but there seems to be a wistfulness in his voice.
Gabriel just smiles. If he picks up on Derry’s desire to have me all to himself, it doesn’t show. “Actually Derrick, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?” he asks hesitantly. His question sounds slightly uncomfortable in a way intended to be disarming. Once he’s sure he has piqued Derry’s interest, he continues sheepishly.
“So my mom’s a shopaholic. Every weekend she seems to buy me more clothes. Lately she’s been on a coat and boots kick. She doesn’t get that for guys like us it’s not complicated. We don’t care what we wear and we don’t color coordinate.” Gabriel opens the bag and pulls out a heavy winter coat and Doc Marten boots, both black and still with tags. “She got me these for Christmas, but I guess she forgot buying me a similar coat and the exact same boots after Thanksgiving.
“If she found out, she’d feel all embarrassed so I’m just going to get rid of the new stuff. Since were about the same size, I don’t suppose you’d want it? Although my mom’s excessive, she does have good taste.”
Like me, Derry’s had enough charity in his life to be hung up about accepting things, even under the most noble of circumstance. His eyes narrow in indecision, his pride warring with his desire to be warm as he considers the offerings before him.
“Look, you’d be doing me a favor. She also got me some pants that are too long and a bunch of shirts I’m never going to wear. Some of them are Star Wars.” Although Gabriel’s face is carefully neutral, he’s just unleashed Derry’s kryptonite, the one thing Derry isn’t impervious to, his affinity for The Force.
“Star Wars?”
“Don’t feel obligated or anything.”
The hesitation on Derry’s face melts into thinly disguised longing as he tries not to appear overeager about Gabriel’s offer. But, as we’ve counted on, The Force is strong in young Derry, and the geek in him easily wins the battle over pride. “Okay. As long as I’m doing you a favor, Gabe.”
With a covert glance at me, Gabriel affirms, “You are, I promise.” Even though Derry will never know, the favor is really for me. And while proper clothes aren’t much, it means a great deal to know Derry will be warm.
“Okay.” Derry reaches for the coat, breaking off the tag and slipping it on while Gabriel repacks the boots and hands him the giant bag.
“There are gloves and matching scarves, a couple of hats, some other shirts and some sweaters too. Honestly, I have twice as much as I’m ever going to wear. My drawers are overflowing, so I really appreciate you helping me out. Thanks man.”
“Uh—you’re welcome.” Wonderingly, Derry takes the bag. Then a small smile steals across his face, lighting his eyes.
I know him well enough to know he has some private joke going on in his head. So I demand, “What?”
“Nothing really.” He chuckles to himself. “I was just wondering when I dress like Gabe here, if I’m going to look like a walking ad for Abercrombie & Fitch the way he does.”
Gabriel clutches at his chest in mock injury, good humor radiating from his clear gaze. “Ouch!”
Derry throws up his hands in a gesture of peace. “No offense, dude.” Then smirking to himself, he adds, “I mean, you can’t help it that you’re such a pretty boy.”
Before he can say anything else, I pull Derry’s gift from my bag, and thrust it at him. “Merry Christmas!” I watch with excitement as Derry unwraps the digital picture frame/MP3 player identical to the one I gave Gabriel. This one, however, is loaded with about a hundred pictures and a playlist created specifically for my best friend.
After listening to me demonstrate the digital features of his gift, Derry throws his arms around me in gratitude. In my arms, he feels cold and impossibly thin despite the new coat. Hoping it’s my imagination, I press my finger along his back trying to decide if the ridges I feel are the outlines of his ribs. But before I can make a determination, he steps abruptly out of my grasp.
Rubbing his hand across the bridge of his nose, he admits, “I, uh, haven’t gotten you anything yet.” That single sentence confirms to me all my worst fears about the Eccles and his situation. He doesn’t need to say more, because I know—I’ve lived it. As we lock eyes, we speak at the same time.
“I don’t need anything.”
“I’m still looking for the perfect thing.”
Although he smiles, he cannot conceal the sadness in his eyes. It breaks my heart that I can’t rescue him. Trying not to let my concern turn to pity, I place my hand gently on his arm. “Take your time. I’m kind of on gift overload anyway,” I confess, delicately phrasing my explanation. “The Fosters went a little overboard.”
“Oh.” Derry’s eyes widen. He’s one of the few people in the world and certainly the only person in my life who actually gets how much their excessive gift giving would bother me.
“Yeah.” Nodding in confirmation, I release a small grimace.
Slinging his arm about my shoulders, Derry changes the subject by targeting Gabriel. “So Gabe,” he drawls, holding up his digital picture frame, “What did Lexi give you?”
Elbowing him in his bony ribs for his audacity, I squeak, “That’s personal.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Personal? Reeeally. Now I’ve got to know.”
But I don’t want Derry to know. Gabriel gets it, the two most important people in my life getting the same thing, but uniquely personalized for the individual. Somehow, I think if Derry knew he would be offended. Luckily, Gabriel comes to my rescue. Ignoring Derry’s badgering, he pulls me close and escorts me to class.
By lunchtime, Derry has changed into the sturdy winter boots and donned a black shirt proclaiming
“May the F*%@! Be with You.”
I watch as he produces his single peanut butter sandwich, breaking off a small bite and popping it into his mouth. Despite his stubbly head and bony frame, he looks better than I can ever remember, and I’m extremely grateful for Gabriel and his brilliant idea. Derry will never know, but every piece of clothing in the duffel was carefully chosen just for him.
As Becke and Jonah join us, slipping into their seats across the table, they make us aware of the gossip swirling around the suspicious absence of Kendra Douglas.
A breakdown. Hospitalization. An affair with an older man. Possible pregnancy.
“I heard she won’t say who he is,” Becke informs us as she splits her orange in two, giving half to Jonah. She’s sitting so close against him that I’m more eager to discuss the details of her holiday than the blonde cheerleader’s disappearance. “But they think he might be a teacher.”
Jonah frowns. “Ewww!”
Immediately I think of Mr. Creepy and his gross, inappropriate attention. But even Kendra’s not that stupid—at least I don’t think she is.
It surprises me when Gabriel chimes in. “I overheard Naomi telling some of the football players she wouldn’t be back.” He stares across the cafeteria, his disapproval darkening at what he sees. Following his gaze, I see Naomi seated on the top of one of the tables, surrounded by a tight-knit crowd of her peers as she dispenses all the dirty details of Kendra’s scandal. Her captivated audience defers to her with rapt attention. She’s clearly in her element.