by Earl Sewell
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“We’re at White Rock Baptist Church on Northern and Third, and my mother’s pregnant and has just gone into labor. Can you please send an ambulance?” I ask, shaking and scared witless.
“It’s going to take some time to get there due to weather conditions, but in the meantime, is there anyone there with medical training?”
“Yes, there is,” I answer, referring to the fact that Ms. Thompson was a medic for the army while she served over in Afghanistan.
“That’s good,” the 9-1-1 operator tells me. “Then that person should know what to do until we can get there.”
I go back into the pastor’s study, where my dad, Lance’s mom and a couple of other older women are trying to make my mom as comfortable as they possibly can. She’s lying on the floor, panting hard as if she just ran a marathon.
Meanwhile, Noelle is screaming her head off because she’s scared and doesn’t know what is happening to Mommy.
“I just got off the phone with 9-1-1, and the operator said it’s going to take a while for an ambulance to get here due to weather conditions,” I announce as calmly as I possibly can.
“Bree, take the little kids out and keep them occupied,” Ms. Thompson says, cool as a cucumber. “We’ll take good care of your mom until we can get her to the hospital.”
Lance, Tiffany and I round up all the little kids and usher them into the activities room, where there are more coloring books and crayons to keep them busy for months. We pass out juice boxes and cookies to the little ones, and it seems like they instantly forget about all the other drama going on around them.
“So are you guys good now?” Tiffany asks Lance and me.
Lance nods “yes” with no hesitation. I look back at him, thinking of all the good times we shared when we were together. A true jokester, Lance was always able to make me smile with just a look or very little effort. He’s the funny guy in the crowd, the one who loves to be around kids and hang out with friends. We have similar personalities, and I love his sense of humor. When it comes down to it, Lance is just a good guy who is very caring, with a great personality. The hardest part about these past few months has been living without my best friend.
“Yes,” I say to Tiffany. “We’re good now.”
twenty-three
My little brother, Xavier Earl Calloway, was born a healthy eight pounds, six ounces. Ms. Thompson delivered him, right there in White Rock Baptist Church. The paramedics arrived about twenty minutes after he was born, and everyone’s fear turned to joy once we all realized that Mom and the baby will both be okay. I’m so glad that Xavier is here, and I can’t wait to spoil him, but now it’s time to switch gears and refocus.
We’re out of school for Christmas break, but since the ballet is tomorrow, Jordan and I are at my house perfecting our technique. We’ve practiced this routine together no less than one hundred times, but there is always room for improvement.
“You’re so beautiful when you dance,” Jordan says with admiration in his voice. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you have grown so much as a dancer in these past few months.”
I grin, happy that he approves. That’s a huge compliment, coming from Jordan. He knows the theory of dance backward and forward, has an amazing sense of rhythm, and his timing is impeccable.
“Well, that’s only because I’ve had some really great teachers,” I say. “Including you.”
“So how are you feeling about where we are?” Jordan asks. “Are you confident?”
“I think as long as we go out tomorrow night and do what we’ve been doing, we’re going to go out, nail it and blow everybody away.”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” he says. “Blood, sweat and tears...let’s leave it all on the stage.”
We give each other a high five, and then I collapse on the couch from exhaustion.
“So you’re calling it quits for the night?” Jordan asks.
“Yes, sir!” I say, grabbing the TV remote. “I know you can probably go on all night, but this girl needs her rest.”
“Slacker!” he teases and then sits down on the couch next to me and makes himself comfortable.
“You want to watch a movie?” I ask, scrolling through the online channel guide.
“Sure, just as long as it’s not Black Swan,” he says. “I can’t deal.”
“I know. It’s intense, right? I had nightmares for weeks after seeing that movie.”
I pop some popcorn and Jordan and I watch Christmas Vacation, starring Chevy Chase, which is never not funny.
I have the house all to myself. Noelle and Tiffany are over at Grandma Robinson’s house, and my dad plans to stay overnight at the hospital until Mom and little Xavier are released.
Throughout the movie, I notice that Jordan keeps inching closer and closer until he is just about sitting in my lap.
“Are you close to making a decision on whether you want to keep the necklace or not?” Jordan asks casually.
Even though that is pretty much all I’ve been thinking about, I still haven’t decided what to do with either Lance or Jordan. They both have their pluses and minuses, but neither of them has an advantage over the other. Even though I was wrong about Lance being a cheater, we still can’t just pick up where we left off, because now there is the Jordan factor that has to be taken into consideration.
I mute the volume on the TV. It’s time that Jordan and I have a serious heart-to-heart talk.
“Jordan, I really like you—you know that—but there’s something going on that I think you should know about.”
I think Jordan has the right to know the full story, so I tell him all about the situation with Lance from start to finish. When I’m done talking, he stares at me quietly, and confusion is etched in his brow.
“So basically, you’re turning me down in favor of your ex-boyfriend?”
“No, I’m saying I need time,” I tell him. “I feel like I’m being crowded and rushed into making a decision one way or another, and that is not what I want to do right now.”
“I understand that, but it’s not fair to keep me waiting around while you make up your mind,” Jordan says. “If you’re going to break my heart, I would rather you do it now before I fall any deeper in love with you.”
Wow. I feel shell-shocked, like someone just threw a bucket of cold water in my face. “You’re in love with me?”
Jordan gives me a disappointed look and shakes his head. “Yeah, for what it’s worth, I am in love with you, Bree, but since you obviously don’t feel the same way, just give me the necklace back and forget I ever asked you to be my girl.”
I go to my room and grab the small velvet box containing the heart-shaped necklace Jordan had given me. I never wore it, but I stare at it now as if it can somehow give me the answers that I need.
Back in the living room, Jordan takes the box, grabs his coat and leaves without saying goodbye.
twenty-four
It’s been three months of rehearsing, drama and tears, but now it is finally time to take the stage for our school’s performance of The Nutcracker. We had one final rehearsal early yesterday, but this is not just another rehearsal. This is the real deal, and no mistakes are allowed.
“Ten minutes!” Ms. Duncan calls out, sending mostly everyone backstage into a state of panic.
There is a lot of nervous energy in the room. I just took a peek from behind the curtain and saw that the auditorium is packed. Every available seat is filled with all of our families and friends, not to mention the entire school, so no one wants to be the one to mess up and let everyone down.
“Oh, God, I feel like I’m going to pass out....” Olivia says while we get our hair and stage makeup done by professional artists.
“Me, too,” Jade says, taking
long deep breaths.
I can understand Jade having a serious case of the nerves. She plays Clara, which is the biggest role in the whole ballet. She has to be onstage longer than anyone else, and if she’s not good tonight, then not much else matters. The whole production will be considered a flop.
I’m sitting in the middle of Jade and Olivia, so I reach out and grab their hands. “There’s no need to be nervous,” I say. “This is what we worked hard and sacrificed for, and we’re all going to go out there and shut it down.... Okay?”
“Got it,” Olivia says enthusiastically.
Jade just nods, looking like she’s in the zone now.
“Five minutes!” Ms. Duncan yells, causing even more chaos. In the midst of all the commotion, I am amazingly calm. As of right now, I’m more excited than I am nervous. I’m just ready to dance.
Jordan walks into the room. We stare at each other a moment. My first instinct is to tell him how handsome he looks in his costume, but he’s directing a lot of hostility and bitterness my way, so I don’t say anything.
I’m disappointed because this is exactly what I didn’t want on performance night. For there to be weird, awkward energy between us, but it’s here, so thick you could cut it with a machete.
“Hi...” I smile at Jordan, trying to break the ice, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just stares right through me like I’m made of glass.
Now I’m nervous.
Jordan and I slayed the dress rehearsal, but chemistry-wise, we aren’t in the best place right now. Standing next to him, I can feel his energy, and it’s so negative that it’s distracting. Will he sabotage the performance and drop me intentionally? Or will our chemistry be so completely off that we can’t get it together and make complete fools of ourselves?
“Showtime!” Ms. Duncan announces, and we all huddle around her for one last pep talk.
“Everybody, make sure you hit every single mark,” she continues. “Do your best, make each other proud, knock their socks off and have a wonderful show!”
Jade, Olivia and I give each other hugs and whisper, “Break a leg!”—which is theater talk for “Good luck.”
The houselights go down, the music comes up, and there’s no turning back now. The show is under way.
* * *
Our part doesn’t come until halfway through the ballet. While Jordan and I wait our turn to go on, he finally makes eye contact with me and whispers, “Break a leg!” I’m not sure if he means that literally or figuratively, but at least he’s talking to me. That’s a good sign.
“Listen, can we talk for a quick second?” I ask Jordan.
“About what?” he asks in a dry and disinterested tone of voice. “About how I opened up and let you in, which I rarely do, only to end up getting my heart stomped on?”
Wow. He clearly isn’t going to make this easy for me, but we have to hurry up and get on one accord or we’re going to go out there and bomb. Big-time.
“I know you’re pissed at me, Jordan, and you have every right to be, but there is no way that we can pull this off without each of us doing our very best,” I say. “We live and die as a team, and there is no I in team.”
“You can save your little motivational pep talk, Bree. I’m a professional, so I’m not going to do anything to intentionally ruin our performance, no matter how I feel about you right now. We have a job to do, and that’s to entertain the audience by bringing our characters to life onstage, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
“Enough said...” I smile at Jordan, relieved that he is mature enough not to accidentally-on-purpose drop me on my head for the way I broke things off with him.
After what seems like an eternity, Jordan and I finally get the signal that the time has come. All I can think as I rush out into the spotlight is Feet don’t fail me now!
The stage lights hit me, and my heart beats faster and faster and louder and louder until it is pounding in my ears. I enter into a zone where my mind goes blank, and my instincts take over. It’s like I’m outside of myself, watching myself hit all of the right marks and make all the right moves. When it comes time for Jordan to lift me, I push hard off the balls of my feet and he thrusts me so high into the air that it almost feels like I am flying. It’s so exhilarating.
Jordan and I do everything right, just like that first rehearsal back from New York, when we brought Ms. Duncan to tears. I do my series of jumps, and when I finally land on my feet I can clearly hear my dad whooping and shouting from the audience. I would know that whistle anywhere. “That’s my girl! Go, Bree! Go!”
When it is all over, I’m drained because I gave it my all and left my heart and soul on the stage.
All of the hard work has finally paid off. I am the Snow Queen.
twenty-five
It’s Christmas morning, and I wake up to Noelle’s toes in my face. She fell asleep in my bed last night while I read Christmas stories to her, and she slept so wild during the night that she’s taken up over half of the bed. That’s not all that unusual for Noelle, but what is surprising is that she didn’t jump up at the crack of dawn to open her Christmas presents. Last night, she overdosed on eggnog and Mrs. Womack’s fruitcake, so I guess she’s just sleeping it off.
I look over at Tiffany’s empty bed and feel a sense of loneliness. She’s moved back in with her mom since the two of them have been getting along much better lately, which is a Christmas miracle if I ever saw one. Reconciliation is always a good thing, but I already miss having Tiffany around.
I yawn and stretch and inhale the wonderful scent of breakfast cooking. Mom is home from the hospital with Xavier, who is such a good baby. He slept through most of the night, which is kind of rare. I just hope it lasts.
“Bree!” my mom yells from the kitchen. “Can you please go out to the car and get Xavier’s diaper bag for me?”
“How do you know I’m not asleep?” I yell back.
“Because you just answered me. That’s how I know!”
Solid point.
I roll out of bed and put my snow boots and coat on. Downstairs in the living room, there is an explosion of gifts under the tree that weren’t there the night before. Santa, also known as “Mom and Dad,” must have stayed up half the night in order to wrap them all. I open the front door and pause. The Jetta is gone from the spot where I parked it last night. In its place is a black, late-model Ford Taurus with a big white bow on top.
“Merry Christmas!” my parents yell at me. I turn around and see that my father has his video camera stuck in my face recording my reactions, and that’s when it really hits me. I hadn’t expected anything for Christmas, but as it turns out, I get a car! I get a car! I get a car!
Finally awake from her sugar coma, Noelle dashes downstairs and immediately starts ripping presents open, not knowing if they are actually for her or not.
“Hey, slow down there!” Dad warns her, but there is no curbing Noelle’s excitement. I am not surprised that she got everything she asked Santa for and then some.
* * *
Christmas is my favorite holiday. I’m not sure why, but it always seems like dinner can’t come fast enough. Right now, Mom is in the kitchen, cooking all of her holiday specialties, and as usual, I am the official chopper. I’ve chopped celery, parsley, green peppers and so many yellow onions, it feels like my eyeballs are starting to bleed.
Mom notices my suffering and offers a reprieve. “Why don’t you get out of here and take your new car for a spin?”
“Now you’re talking,” I say, happy to oblige. I take my apron off, wash my hands and am out the door before she has a chance to change her mind.
I jump in the Taurus and check out the interior, which is really nice. It has a sunroof, GPS and a booming sound system. I rev the engine and take off, thrilled that it rides a lot smoother than my old Jett
a.
I’m turning corners and enjoying my new car with no set destination, until I get a text.
Merry Christmas, sweetheart! I miss you so much, and it would really make my day if I could see your beautiful face today. If that’s possible, feel free to come by. I’ll be waiting...
I turn the Taurus in the opposite direction, and it feels like my heart is smiling because I finally figured out what, and whom, I want. When I get there, Lance is standing on the front porch waiting, as if he knew all along that I would be right there.
Then I remember a line from Shakespeare that I learned in English class: “The course of true love never runs straight,” or something like that. Never did, I think. And it never will.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460319734
Boyfriend Shopping
Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Shopping for My Boyfriend
Copyright © 2014 by Earl Sewell
My Only Wish
Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Caridad Pollak
All I Want for Christmas Is You
Copyright © 2014 by Deidre Berry
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