“No.”
“Plenty.”
And suddenly Noelle knew that Rachel was one of them. “Well, I can’t do anything about it, so he’s all yours.” Still, the idea of this boy, whoever and wherever he was, wanting to kiss her was absolutely enthralling. Her heart pounded at the very thought of this mystery boy.
“You’ll know who he is soon enough,” Rachel promised. “Just pay a little attention to something other than the floor and the tops of your shoes when school starts up again.”
Reflexively, Noelle looked down. The smell of snow and ice filled her nostrils.
“Hey!” Aaron ran up to them. “We’re going to play Red Rover on the ice, you guys in?”
“Yeah!” Rachel enthused, Jacob Marsden apparently forgotten as quickly as he’d been brought up.
Noelle wasn’t sure about this. Seemed like the perfect way to get hurt. But she didn’t want to be the party pooper or, worse, the one lone sad girl sitting on the sidelines. “Sure.”
Everyone lined up in two lines on either side of the icy basketball court. There was a great deal of negotiation—people being traded back and forth, complaints being registered that there were too many big people on one side and/or too many weaklings on the other.
Eventually Noelle found herself holding hands with a boy she’d never met. She suspected she knew who it was, though, before he even introduced himself.
“You Aaron Neely’s cousin?” he asked in a cloud of icy breath.
She stood up taller. “Yes.”
“I’m Jacob Marsden. I’ve seen you in the halls.”
“I’m Noelle.”
“I know.”
Her face felt hot, and she was glad he couldn’t see her blush.
“What grade are you in?”
She wanted to lie, but she’d get caught immediately. “Seventh,” she said, then added unnecessarily, “Almost eighth.”
He nodded as if considering. “I’m in eighth.”
“Huh.” What else was she supposed to say? Besides, of course, repeating, Yeah, I’m about to be. As if she might catch up to him and not be forever one grade behind.
The game started and was so much fun that Noelle was completely lost in it. Every time someone slid through the line, everyone laughed and laughed. Off in the distance there was the sound of carolers walking through the neighborhood. Some were distinctly off-key—maybe the distance made it sound more pronounced—but somehow that just added to the charm of it.
The game went on and on, one breathless rush after another, and pretty quickly Noelle stopped thinking about what night it was beyond one of the most magical nights of her life.
And then, just when she thought it couldn’t have gotten any better, when a runner broke through Noelle’s grip on Rachel’s hand, Jacob took the opportunity to let go of the girl on his other side and run off the basketball court with Noelle. There were enough people still sledding that no one seemed to notice except for Rachel, who gave a lingering look behind her before resuming the game.
“So, Noelle,” Jacob said, his voice a little wavery either from the cold or from nerves. “Want to be my girlfriend?”
“I … I don’t know. What does it mean?”
“You know what it means.”
She did. Of course she did. It meant nothing. It meant that they told everyone that they were boyfriend and girlfriend but never saw each other outside of school anyway. It was kind of a lame version of boyfriend and girlfriend, but the whole idea thrilled her, and she wished, more than anything, that she could run home and tell her mother about it.
But her mother would know already. That’s what everyone said. That she was with Noelle now and always.
“Sure,” she told him.
“Great.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss right on the lips. Just a peck, but still her first kiss. Her heart thrummed nearly out of her chest with excitement. “It’s official.”
“Okay.”
They stood there awkwardly facing each other for a moment, neither knowing what to do next, until someone called Jacob back to the Red Rover game. “Gotta go,” he said, and ran back over to his friends.
It was all she could do not to just twirl and twirl and twirl with joy.
Soon parents began to show up, ushering their kids back home. Aunt Beanie was one of them, but she brought Thermoses of piping-hot cinnamon apple cider. Noelle wrapped her hands around the steaming cup and took a sip of the sweet liquid. It warmed her all the way through.
“Did you have fun?” Aunt Beanie asked her, looking concerned.
Noelle felt Rachel’s eyes on her. “Oh, yes. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“We’re delighted to have you! Let’s make it a new tradition. Christmas Eve at our place!”
“Sounds good to me,” Noelle said, hoping every year would bring as much fun as this one unexpectedly had.
“You see,” Beanie said, taking the cup from her hands. “You never know where magic is going to come from. All you have to do is give it a chance.”
“I just feel funny having a good time when I’m not supposed to.”
“Who says you’re not supposed to? Baby, you have been sad long enough. We all have been. And we will be again, don’t you worry. You have yourself some fun whenever you can. Never give up a chance to smile.”
But suddenly it wasn’t Beanie talking, and Noelle wasn’t on the snowy ground at Potomac Middle School. She was back in the shoe department at Simon’s, warm as toast, wearing shiny yellow Hunter boots.
Chapter 4
“How did you do that?”
“How did I do what?” Charlie asked, guileless.
“That whole story. All the things that would have happened if I had gone out that night instead of staying at home.”
“I didn’t do anything, you did.”
“I was telling you a memory and suddenly it went into a whole different thing!”
“We have choices all the time, and different outcomes for each choice, you know.”
I felt irritated. Charlie seemed to be being deliberately obtuse, when we both knew she … well, what? What did we both know about her?
“I know, but we don’t always see the outcome,” I said, well aware that I was beginning to believe the unbelievable. “Was that really what you think would have happened if I’d gone to my aunt’s that Christmas Eve after my mother died?”
“Do I think what would have happened?”
I narrowed my eyes at Charlie. “Come on.”
“That bit you told at the end? About sleigh riding? I assume so, yes. You would have had a grand time.”
“Would have had,” I echoed to myself. As it was, I’d had a miserable night, exactly as anyone could have predicted for a kid who opted to throw herself into a pillow and cry about the loss of her mother. It was totally miserable, completely heartbreaking.
And I didn’t really blame myself for that, truth be told, because it was a really hard time. It was a very hard thing to ask a kid in my position to rally and go out to have fun. Apparently it was possible, but for some reason grief has a stronger pull than anything else. Both laughter and tears were a release, and, boy, I needed a release. I guess the fact is that the tears were a more sure release. When I thought about it now, the big fear really was that I’d have gone to my aunt’s and gone out with my cousins and tried to have fun in a crowd but would have been thinking instead about all my sadness, and having to hold it in all night. That would have been miserable.
I wasn’t wrong to have been cautious.
I only wish I’d known how much better it would have gone if I’d taken that chance.
“Still,” I found myself saying, “that’s one instance of erring on the side of caution. I don’t think I can blame myself for it.”
“Child, there is always a better option than sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.”
I thought of the many times I’d gone out because “it would be good for me” and ended up feeling alone and lonely in a cro
wd. “I don’t think that’s true,” I said.
“Tell me another story, then,” Charlie said, and stood up to rifle though the shoes, her broad bottom knocking against the wall and the shelf alternately.
I kept organizing. “I don’t have any great stories.”
“You could! And anyway, I’ll be the judge of that!”
I picked up some chunky sneakers, a thick-soled, bright-colored remnant from my past. “Good lord, these are Etnies! I didn’t even know they still made these!” I turned them over and looked at the price, then gave a low whistle. “Wish I’d kept my old ones.”
“You wore those boots?” Charlie asked.
I laughed. “They’re not boots. They’re sneakers. Kind of. Anyway, yes, there was this fashion craze where girls all wanted to look like they were wearing their boyfriends’ clothes, and these”—I held up the shoes—“these were perfect for it.”
“Indeed.” She looked like she found the idea distasteful.
“For what it’s worth,” I said with a shrug, “I don’t have very romantic memories of them myself. But you want another story? I know another one.”
* * *
No one had ever dreaded New Year’s Eve more.
Noelle had made tentative plans—okay, no, they were plans—to join her friend Maura’s family on a dinner cruise on the Potomac River. When they started talking about it in September, it seemed perfectly fine, even fun. Certainly a uniquely D.C. thing to do.
But as time wore on and Noelle’s fear of terrorism grew with the news stories, so did her fear of being vulnerable, on a boat, on a river, in D.C. on New Year’s Eve. This was a big one, too. The concern over possible attacks on millennium celebrations had put everyone on high alert. But no one seemed on higher alert than Noelle.
So it was an awkward moment when Maura called that afternoon to solidify their plans.
“I can’t go,” Noelle said, then manufactured a cough. “I—I’m not feeling well.”
“What? You were fine yesterday!”
“It came on suddenly.”
“Noelle! My parents bought you a ticket and everything!”
She coughed again, but it did nothing to hide her shame. So she overcompensated, making her voice weaker. “I’m really sorry. Try Tiffany. I bet she’d take my ticket in a heartbeat.”
“Right. Tell me what sixteen-year-old has no plans for New Year’s Eve at the last minute. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. Do you know how much that ticket cost?”
No, do you? Noelle wanted to ask, but that would have been unnecessarily snarky. The ticket probably did cost a lot, and she was a jerk for canceling at the last minute, but she knew she’d be no fun for anyone if she made herself go, because she was so scared there was going to be a terrorist attack if she went.
And only if she went. In some weird twist of logic, she felt certain that she was the variable that would make it happen. She wasn’t at all worried for her friends who would go without her, because she knew they’d be safe. It was she who would bring the bad luck.
Someone had told her that was called “magical thinking.”
All she knew was that it sucked, and part of her tried really really hard to talk herself into going, but she couldn’t find the courage.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” Maura pleaded.
Guilt tightened inside Noelle, but she remained resolute. “I’m really sorry.”
The moment she and Maura hung up—Maura slamming her phone down—she felt better.
Relieved.
She didn’t exactly feel like she’d saved the world—her worry about disaster didn’t extend to giving herself credit for heroism if she didn’t create it—but she did, at least, feel like she could have a peaceful night at home.
So she called her boyfriend, Mark Delgado, and told him she was going to be home for the evening and he could come join her.
He sounded less excited than she’d hoped. “I have plans, Nolly. I’m going to Stu Freedman’s party.”
She waited a moment for him to invite her along, even though she didn’t want to go, but no invitation was forthcoming, so she managed to feel even more disenfranchised than before.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “You don’t want to come spend New Year’s Eve with me?”
“I saw you two nights ago!”
“I know, but it’s New Year’s!” How could he not see the significance? It was almost like saying he was going to his buddy’s to play pool and beer pong on Valentine’s Day, but she should be fine because they already saw each other that week.
“I guess I could come by if you really want me to,” he said with such reluctance she could see him as a cartoon character literally dragging his feet and digging trenches in the dirt behind him.
“Yes, I really want you to.”
“Fine.” It was hard for her to pretend that was a rousing, enthusiastic response, but she had to pretend she didn’t notice it was the exact opposite. “Great! I’ll see you soon!”
They hung up, and she ran upstairs to put her makeup on, throw curlers in her hair, and put on her oh-so-casual sk8er boi look, with torn jeans, a big T-shirt, and Etnies on her feet. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard, but, man, she was trying so hard.
Mark showed up, looking sullen. “Hey.”
“Hi!” She ushered him into the kitchen. She hadn’t had time to make anything yet, but at least she knew what was there and had plans. “I’ve got chips and dip, and a bunch of cheeses, and Cap’n Crunch if you’re in a seafaring mood—”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, want something to drink? Coke? I think my dad has some beer in the fridge.”
“Nah, I’m not staying too long, and I don’t want to drink and drive.” He raked a hand through his too-long sandy blond hair. He looked like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, only without the flesh-colored goatee that would have pushed him over the edge into Nowhereland as far as her attraction to him went.
The gesture, though—that got to her. Something in her deflated. “What do you mean you’re not staying long? It’s only nine thirty. It’s two and a half hours till midnight.”
“Right…”
“You’re staying for that, right?” She already knew the answer. He wasn’t.
His face took on a pained expression, though she didn’t think it was sincere, and he said, “About that. I told Stu I’d go to his party, and he’s really bummed at the idea that I might not make it, so I’m sorry, I just really gotta head on over there.”
Once again she waited for the invitation to join him—which she was more determined than ever not to accept—and once again the invitation did not come.
“You know what?” she said. “Why don’t you just go?” Her voice was tight with anger.
He, on the other hand, looked relieved. “Really? You mean it?”
“Oh yeah, I mean it. Go.”
“Aw, man, you’re the best.” He moved in to kiss her cheek—seriously, my cheek?—but she pushed him away.
“Go and don’t come back, how’s that? Ever.”
“Wait,” he said stupidly. “What? Don’t ever come back?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“So … you’re breaking up with me?”
“Yup. Happy New Year, Mark. I really enjoyed this time we had together.” She was on the verge of tears now. Not because Mark mattered so much. They’d only been dating for about four months, and he was pretty much a bore. Plus he hadn’t gotten her anything for Christmas. Which, okay, maybe he didn’t have any money, but he could have made something. Any little symbolic thing would have done.
If it’s the thought that counts and there is no thought, well, that counts.
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“All because I want to go to Stu’s.”
“No, all because you’re a selfish jerk.” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention the lack of a Christmas gift (she’d given him
a nice wallet for him to put his nothing in), and the fact that he hadn’t had the consideration to include her tonight, but all of that sounded like sour grapes, and she knew it. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of sounding like a bitter shrew he was better off without.
“Fine, fine, you win.”
“I win?”
“I’ll call Stu and tell him I’ll be late.”
Late. Not not going, just late.
“Tell him when you get there,” she said, knowing it didn’t make sense but not caring. “Because I don’t want you here.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not! You’re just so selfish you’ll never have any clue what I’m feeling.” She picked up the coat he’d taken off when he walked in and shoved it into his hands, pushing him toward the door at the same time. “Just go.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going. But you’ll regret this.”
“I doubt it.”
He went out the front door, the storm door slamming behind him. She watched his dark figure retreat into the darkness.
She could not believe this. Could. Not. Believe it. How did every single holiday always seem to suck? Really and truly, it was getting comical. She hadn’t been expecting anything great tonight, but she’d still been going into it cheerfully. Really, it would have been perfectly fine sitting on the couch with Mark, eating Doritos and watching TV. It was hardly a dreamy romantic New Year’s Eve, but it would have done.
She wasn’t a demanding person, she really wasn’t.
But this was what she’d ended up with. Herself. Maybe it was better, but it didn’t feel so great at the moment.
She slumped upstairs to change her clothes and maybe find some magazines to occupy her while she watched the New Year’s shows and felt her youth slip by.
Minutes later, she heard a racket at the door and ran down, expecting Mark to be back, head held low in shame for having abandoned her, but it was her father with a woman she’d never met before.
His surprised expression must have mirrored hers.
“Noelle!”
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
“I’m … we’re…” He pointed to the woman and himself, then said, “I don’t think you’ve met Carla?”
A Shoe Addict's Christmas Page 4