All I Want for Christmas (Underlined Paperbacks)
Page 18
Such was the genetic roulette wheel, I guessed. I mean, we’d learned all about it in bio at the beginning of the year. I knew it was no one’s fault. But that didn’t change the fact that it sucked. And it sucked even harder that my dear old grandmother felt the need to point out my flaws. Especially when those very flaws had come from her side of the family, thank you very much.
“You two get settled and I’ll see you down in the Antelope Room for dinner in a bit.”
“Thanks, Loretta,” I said gamely as our grandmother silently closed the door.
Lauren tossed her suitcase onto the double bed nearer the bathroom and groaned. “I cannot believe we have to share a room for the next week.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. “No offense.”
I rolled my eyes and wheeled my suitcase over to the dresser to start unpacking my clothes. Even when we were on vacation, I liked to feel settled and organized, while Lauren preferred to live out of her suitcase like she was already on her planned gap year in Europe, where she intended to stay at Airbnbs or with any friends lucky enough to be studying abroad freshman year and “live life like it was intended to be lived,” whatever that meant. I couldn’t even imagine flying to a foreign country by myself, let alone cobbling together an itinerary and finding ways to earn money on the fly. I’d started babysitting the second I was old enough and had been stashing away twenty percent of everything I made ever since, saving up for college textbooks. My parents were always moaning and groaning about how paying for college wasn’t about just the tuition but all the living expenses and supplies—especially the books. The way they talked, you’d think textbooks were all made of diamonds and gold.
I had no idea whether my parents’ divorce was going to affect the family’s money situation, or Lauren’s and my college funds, but there was no way I was not going away to school. If there was anything I could do to help make it happen, I would. Traveling the world was all well and good for Lauren, but I was about schedules and goals and ticking off syllabus boxes. I couldn’t wait to be in a place where everyone was focused on learning.
Once I’d gotten everything neatly placed inside the dresser, I zipped up my suitcase again, shoved it in a corner, and turned to gaze out the huge picture window overlooking the grounds. The sun was just setting over the mountains, turning the winter sky the most intense shade of pink I’d ever seen. Just below, dozens of people skated around the frozen lake, little kids grabbing onto parents’ legs, older kids chasing one another and biffing spectacularly. A couple near the center held hands and twirled in a fast circle, using centrifugal force to keep them going. It was all very pretty, so I took a deep breath and attempted to smile. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite pull it off.
Irritated, I yanked the heavy curtains closed. That was when I spotted a printed schedule on the polished oak desk, a piece of furniture they’d stuck in every room, I supposed because of all the business retreats the lodge hosted. With a glance, I saw that it was a calendar of all the events Loretta had alluded to in the lobby. Everything from a timed snowman-building competition to a snowshoe race. Certain items had been highlighted in green, with a little M written next to them in Loretta’s stiff handwriting. It was a lovely schedule, really—color-coded by age range for each event with the start and end times indicated. Just my kind of document.
“What do you think this means?” I asked, walking over to Lauren’s bed. My sister was now kicked back against the pillows, watching music videos on YouTube.
“What?” Lauren asked without moving her eyes off the screen.
I grabbed her phone—“Hey!” she yelled—and shoved the paper in front of her face.
“This. What do you think the Ms mean?”
Lauren snatched the page from my hand and scanned it, squinting. “International Buffet, New Year’s Eve Teen Dance, Campfire Bingo…all marked with an M.” She slapped the paper down dramatically and looked up at me. “You don’t think she means mandatory, do you?”
“Oh, no. No way,” I said. “I plan to spend the next six days in this room, reading and watching TV.”
“There’s a shock,” Lauren said sarcastically.
“You’re the one who was just watching YouTube!” I shot back.
“I was relaxing for five minutes, not hermiting myself away for days.” Lauren got up and pulled off her sweater, which she tossed onto the floor in a heap. “I’m going to get out of here as soon as possible. But if Loretta thinks it’s going to be so I can…‘build gingerbread houses,’ ” she read off the list, making a disgusted face, “she’s out of her mind.”
Actually, building gingerbread houses sounded kind of fun. My dad and I used to make them every Christmas when I was little—from a kit, but still. I loved planning out the decorations for our house and using the squeeze bag of icing to attach the candies (the ones I didn’t eat). Suddenly I missed my dad so much my chest hurt.
Why was Mom making him leave? Why couldn’t she just try harder?
“I don’t know what your problem is,” Lauren said, looking over the calendar again. “Don’t you just love to have every moment of your life scheduled?”
Okay. She had a point. If I were in any mood for festive holiday fun, I would be all about this calendar of events, especially the mandatory parts. Honestly, even as I stood there, the idea was beginning to grow on me.
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