Rules We're Meant to Break

by Natalie Williamson

  We eat wings for dinner, and I mostly listen as Tasha and Katie chatter about finals and their plans to see one of their favorite bands when they go back to Iowa in January. Jordan’s dad mentions something about skiing, and I must look confused because Jordan says, “We’re leaving for Colorado on Thursday night. My aunt and uncle live outside of Denver, so we usually spend Christmas with them.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun,” I say.

  “Yes,” Tasha says, “especially since our grandparents have been uninvited this year.”

  I cough on the sip of water I just took, surprised at her bluntness.

  “Tasha,” Jordan’s dad says with a sigh, as Katie snorts into her plate. “Let’s not, okay?”

  “Fine.” Tasha rolls her eyes. “Tell us about the game on Friday then, J. I’m sorry I had to miss it. Stupid Friday finals.”

  Jordan hesitates, glancing in my direction. “It’s not a big deal, Tash. The game was fine.”

  “It was great,” I say, not sure why he’s trying to downplay it again. First with Kevin, and now with his own family? So weird. “Season’s best for points and assists, right?”

  “That’s right,” Jordan’s mom says with a warm smile at me. “And the scouts that were there definitely took notice. At least according to Coach Miles.”

  “Scouts?” I ask, looking over at Jordan, who now has an oddly strained smile on his face.

  “Um, yeah,” he says, glancing around the table and then dipping his gaze to his plate. “There were a couple of scouts there from Wichita State to watch me play. Coach said after the night I had, he’s pretty sure they’ll be back again after the break.”

  I drop my fork; it lands on my plate with a clatter. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I—wow—that’s awesome!” I splutter.

  “We’re pretty excited about it,” his mom says, beaming at him. “Keep your fingers crossed for him.”

  “I will,” I promise, even though my gut is twisting at the thought of Jordan staying here next year when I’m doing everything I can to make sure I’m in Lawrence.

  * * *

  After dinner and the cupcakes, which only last about five minutes after Tasha opens the carrier, Tasha and Katie leave to meet up with some friends and Jordan’s parents wave off our attempts to help them clean up the kitchen.

  “You want to watch something?” Jordan asks. I nod, so he takes my hand to help me up and leads me downstairs.

  We settle on the couch in the family room and Jordan pulls up Netflix, picking a movie at random when I tell him I don’t care what he puts on. As the opening credits start rolling, he loops his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him, so that my head fits under his chin. It’s such a small gesture, but somehow it feels even more intimate than all the making out we did last night, and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath because my heart is racing at his nearness.

  We’re quiet for a while, watching the movie, but then out of the blue Jordan says, “The scouts probably aren’t a big deal. In case you were worried about it.”

  I twist around so I can see his face. He’s studying me with a serious expression, but there’s something else underneath that. Uncertainty. Wanting. And I realize he’s not only downplaying this for me. He’s doing it for himself, too.

  “Are you worried about it?” I ask, watching him closely.

  He blows out a breath and looks down at his hand, which is now resting on my hip. “A little bit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he says slowly, fiddling with one of the belt loops on my jeans, “playing D-One has always been my dream, but this seems like it’s too good to be true. I’m worried that if I let myself get my hopes up about this, I’ll jinx it.”

  “I get that,” I say, nodding. “But remember how you said Buffy’s tricks were like magic, that first night I was over here?”

  The corners of his mouth tug up in a smile. “The second night,” he corrects, “but yes.”

  Warmth pools in my stomach and spreads out all over me, and I know I’m blushing but I don’t look away. “Right, well. Magic. That’s how I feel when I watch you play.”

  He goes still, eyes searching my face. “I think you might be biased.”

  I laugh. “Maybe a little. But you’re the real thing, and if those coaches can’t see it, they need to get their vision checked.”

  He blinks at me for a second, then tugs me forward and kisses me, running his hands up and down my back. I shiver at his touch and shift even closer to him, and the next thing I know we’ve been making out for so long that his mom is yelling down the stairs that it’s time for him to take me home.

  We’re mostly quiet on the drive, both of us still trying to catch our breath, and when he pulls into my driveway I lean in to kiss him again instead of getting out of the car.

  “You know,” Jordan says when we finally break apart, his voice low, “there’s another reason I’m worried about those scouts.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, but I have a feeling I already know.

  “You,” he says. “And what it would mean for this. What we’re doing.”

  I nod, because I’m worried about that too. But I made my choice when it comes to him last night, and even though I don’t know what I’d want to do if we end up at different schools next year, I do know one thing for certain. “I promise, no more running. Whatever happens with college, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he says, watching me for a long moment before cutting the engine. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  twenty-five

  On Christmas morning when I wake up, the whole house smells like baking chocolate and Mannheim Steamroller Christmas music is playing. For a moment I lie in bed soaking up that smell and those sounds, trying to decide if it’s cookies or cake and humming along to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.” Things have still been a little tense around here for the past week, but I’m choosing to take “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” as a good sign. If Mom was really upset or in a bad mood, she wouldn’t have gone for something so upbeat. Feeling good, I pat the bed beside me to invite Buffy up for Christmas cuddles.

  My phone buzzes and I grab it to find a text from Jordan. Merry Christmas. Call you later?

  I grin and text him back. Yes, please. Merry Christmas. I’ll save some cookies for you for Thursday.

  I stopped by his house last Thursday to say goodbye before he and his family left on their trip, and we made plans to hang out next Thursday, which just so happens to be the day they get back. “So we don’t have to miss one,” he’d said when he asked me. Heat rushes to my face just thinking about it.

  After a moment, my phone buzzes again. When you give them to me and watch me eat them in two bites, remember that I liked you before I knew your mom had a bakery.

  Laughing, I rub Buffy’s ears one more time, text back, Will do, and roll out of bed.

  When Buffy and I get to the kitchen we find Mom at the island, her special Christmas mixing bowl in front of her and whisk in hand. She grins when she sees me. “I did the brownies already. I couldn’t wait.”

  “That’s okay,” I say slowly, studying her face. Other than when she met Jordan last Sunday, she’s had a sort of guarded expression all week. Like she was stuck deep inside her own head. She’s been so quiet that I haven’t even bugged her about my Lawrence folder, which we still need to discuss. But today she looks normal, totally fine. Like the fight last weekend and the weirdness since then never happened at all. “What are you doing now?”

  “Chocolate chip cookies. Do you want to help?”

  “Okay.”

  Mom’s mouth drops open in surprise for a second, and I can’t really blame her since I’m surprised myself—I haven’t helped with the Christmas cookies in a few years. Then she beams at me, whips open a drawer next to her, and pulls out an apron, one that’s covered in little sponge-paint snow people and has my name scrawled across the top in six-year-old-me’s handwr
iting.

  “Here,” she says, holding it out to me. “I found it when I was unpacking the Christmas ornaments.”

  I only hesitate for a moment before I take it and put it on. Mom looks a little misty-eyed, so I hurry to reach for the bag of chocolate chips. “When you say help, you mean help you eat these, right?”

  That does the trick. Laughing, she swats my hand away and shows me what she needs me to do.

  Kevin comes to join us after a little while, and I eye him and my mother as he comes over to plant a kiss on her cheek. Kevin’s PDAs haven’t gone over well since that fight I overheard, so I’m interested to see what happens. Sure enough, Mom pulls away from him a little, but weirdly he doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in to whisper something to her.

  Strange.

  For a moment nothing changes, and Mom keeps mixing the dough she’s been working on. But then she softens and turns to look at him, a hint of a smile on her face. They watch each other for a moment that stretches into sappy territory, and, when I recover from my shock, I clear my throat loudly to remind them I’m here. They jump a little and look over at me, Mom with a blush on her face and Kevin with a sheepish expression on his.

  “Merry Christmas, Amber,” he says, coming over to me. Before I know what’s happening he’s pulling me into a hug, and I’m so surprised that I let him do it. Over his shoulder I see Mom watching us; her eyes get bright like she might cry.

  “You too, Kevin.” I pull back a little so he’ll let me go. I need to salvage this situation before we start talking feelings and holding hands and stuff. I look at Mom. “All right, are we gonna do presents now that he’s up?”

  Just like that the disbelief and wobbly look to her face disappear and she’s scowling at me, in a good-natured sort of way. “Not until Cammie gets here. We’ll open presents together. It’s only fair.”

  “She could do one, Claire,” Kevin says, surprising me yet again. “Cam would understand.”

  “It’s okay.” I glance over at Mom again, who looks like she has a lot more things to say about why we’re not doing presents now. “I don’t mind waiting. Gives us plenty of time to make cookies beforehand. Kevin, do you want to help?”

  He beams at me. “Of course!”

  We make chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles, then gingerbread and sugar cookies. We decorate the last two; I give the plain circles crazy patterns and swimsuits to the little snow people, which cracks Kevin up and even gets Mom laughing too. The whole thing is fun, and it feels like we’ve been doing this for a million years, which is very surreal and probably breaks more than half my rules. But right now I don’t care, because I can’t remember the last time I had a Christmas that felt so normal. I decide to just go with it.

  I focus on decorating the cookies—and trying to keep Kevin from eating them before they cool enough for me to frost—and picking out a few of my favorites to save for Jordan. I even set aside a few plain cookies for Cammie, in case she wants to decorate some too.

  Cammie shows up a little after lunch, stumbling into the kitchen with her arms full of presents. I’m the only one in here—Mom and Kevin are in the living room, making googly eyes at each other and the tree—so I rush to get up and help her before she slips in the snow she’s getting everywhere.

  “Whoa,” I say. “Did you buy an entire store?”

  “No. Dad had me hide stuff for you and your mom in my car.”

  My eyebrows go up. “That’s actually pretty smart.”

  “Yeah,” Cammie says, smiling now, “he’s super into gift giving. He says it’s like an art.”

  I laugh. “If he says so. Hey, before we take these into the living room, do you want a cookie? They’re fresh.”

  “Um, yes.” She comes over to join me and reaches for a snickerdoodle. “You know, you and your mom are bad influences when it comes to dessert.”

  I smile and pat her arm. “We do our best.”

  We each eat a cookie and then decide to load up a plate and take it into the living room where Mom and Kevin are waiting. At the sight of us with cookies in hand, Kevin gets up and says, “Cam, did you bring the presents?”

  Before we can answer he’s already heading for the kitchen to bring them in.

  Once we get all the presents in the living room, I settle onto the floor with Buffy and Cammie sits on the couch with Mom and Kevin. We all wish each other Merry Christmas—which got forgotten in the midst of Kevin’s present excitement—and then we finally get down to business and start talking gifts. I give Buffy hers first so she can look cute in her new collar and munch on her giant bully stick while all the unwrapping is going on. She’s not a fan of the collar exchange but the treat wins her over, and she starts gnawing on it happily as I look to Kevin for further instructions.

  He starts passing out presents, telling us all to wait until he’s gotten everything divided up before we unwrap anything. “Okay,” he says once he’s done, already reaching for a little bag that’s labeled for him and Mom. “Open everything except your biggest box. Most presents are boring to watch people unwrap, so we only do one big present to take turns.”

  I decide I like this method, though I do go slower than everyone else at opening my gifts. Mostly I get gift cards—to my favorite bookstore and this little boutique in New Market that always has the cutest clothes—but I get a few practical fun things too. Fuzzy socks. Christmas pajamas with reindeer on them. And a toothbrush with my name on the handle that’s my favorite color blue. I look up in time to catch Kevin’s wink, and to see that Mom and Cammie each got an embossed toothbrush too.

  Finally it’s down to the big boxes. “Oldest first,” Mom says. She nudges Kevin, who gives a good-natured groan, and hands him his last present. I notice as she does this that she’s got my present to her—a framed picture of the two of us in our Christmas pajamas last year—cradled in her lap. She sees me looking and smiles at me, and I am so glad that I made that last-minute trip to Target with Hannah and Jordan after work on Wednesday night. I changed my mind about a million times about what to get my mom. Looks like I picked the right thing.

  Kevin does his big present (a signed boxed set of cookbooks by his favorite Food Network chef), and Mom unwraps hers (a diamond necklace and earrings set that is understated and beautiful and probably very expensive), and then Cammie goes next since she’s next in the circle (she gets a necklace that was apparently her grandma’s that makes her cry). Once Cammie has calmed down, it’s my turn. I pull my last box toward me, surprised by how light it is, and start pulling off the ribbons and wrapping paper. When I open it up there’s another box inside. Then another, and another.

  “Oh my God, Dad,” Cammie says. “How many did you do?”

  Kevin grins. “Just a few.”

  “More than a few,” Mom says. Her tone is very dry, but I can tell part of her is loving this. She hasn’t done the box inside a box trick since I was a little kid.

  In all, there are seven boxes. When I finally get to the last one, I really have no idea what to expect. I shake it to see if I can hear anything, and it sounds like thick paper sliding around in there. My heart sinks. Another gift card, maybe, or a check. But is that really worthy of a giant box-in-a-box trick?

  I look at my mom to find her watching me, a strange look on her face. “Open it,” she says, nodding toward me. “Go on.”

  I slip my fingernail under the tape holding down the lid until it breaks, and then I pull out what’s inside.

  It’s KU basketball tickets. Four of them. For the game against K-State in February. I stare at the tickets for a long time, not understanding. Thinking there must be some kind of mistake, because this game is in Lawrence and I still haven’t gotten permission to go there, even for a campus tour. Then I look up and see Mom’s and Kevin’s and Cammie’s faces and I realize this is true.

  “I thought you didn’t do the tickets with the Kleins and your other friend anymore,” I say finally, because I can’
t keep sitting here with all of them staring at me.

  “I don’t,” Kevin says. “We bought these for you.”

  “We?”

  “We.” He glances at my mom, who gives me a hesitant smile.

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  Kevin smiles wide. “As a heart attack.”

  Mom nods. “We’ve got it all worked out with Hannah’s family.”

  “With Hannah’s family?” I echo.

  “Yes,” Mom says. “The game isn’t until seven and won’t be over until late. We don’t want you driving back in the dark, so you’ll need a place to stay. Her brother has space at his apartment for you two, and whoever else you want to bring. Like we talked about earlier this year.”

  “Like we talked about,” I parrot, because I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this.

  “Yes. So two of the tickets are accounted for,” Kevin says. “The other two spots are up to you.”

  I look over to find Cammie raising an eyebrow at me, and somehow I know exactly what she’s thinking. Hurriedly I snap my attention back to Mom and Kevin.

  “Okay,” I say faintly.

  They exchange a glance. Then, after a beat, Mom says, “We also thought … that you could set up a campus visit for while you’re there. And that you and I should sit down after the new year and update your FAFSA information. To see if that will help with your aid package.”

  A campus visit. Like me going to KU next year is an actual thing. That’s the real point of this present, I know it in my bones. Suddenly I understand why Mom wanted to wait to talk to me about my folder full of budgets and screenshots and all the details I could think of to get her to say yes. They had this planned already. Or, I realize suddenly, remembering the snippets I heard of their fight, at least Kevin did. This is the thing he did without asking Mom first. I’d bet money on it. Something for me.

  Fighting back tears, I jump to my feet and go to hug them. Mom first, and I say, “Thank you!” out loud as I do. But when I hug Kevin, I say it again, quieter this time so only he can hear. I can tell by the way he awkwardly pats my back that he understands what I mean.