A shock of recognition raced through Ana as she stared down at the pocket watch. What the heck was it doing here?
Ana paused. Had Babushka given it to Katie? She must have. But why? When?
Ana squeezed her eyes shut. She’d been ready to get rid of Babushka since the moment she’d arrived, and she’d never been a watch person at all. So why did it hurt so much to find this watch here?
Because Katie already had everything. And on top of that, she was so good that even Babushka loved her and wanted to give her things. So good, even Ana’s mom wanted to talk to her and hug her.
If Ana had been that good, would her family have stayed together?
Ana straightened the bed until it was magazine-perfect again. Then she tucked the pocket watch back under the covers with her note pinched inside it. She took one last look at Katie’s room before hurrying downstairs and zipping her coat against the cold.
With every step, Ana found herself longing to be home already. When she turned into her driveway, she paused to look up at her house. It wasn’t like Katie’s, and her life wasn’t like Katie’s, but she wasn’t Katie. This was her home, filled with the people she loved most (plus Babushka) and the holiday that meant something to her family. Now that she’d seen again what a real family looked like, she could remember moments when her own family had almost gotten it right, and she felt surer than ever that they could make it happen again.
Pesky as he was, Katie would never have a Mikey, and suddenly Ana felt very sorry for that. The Burtons’ lights might be more colorful, but it was the menorah lights that shone back at her from every December of her life. Hopefully she could help them light it tonight.
Ana hurried to her front door and turned the knob, ready to embrace it all and maybe even apologize, if that’s what it took.
“You’re late,” said Ana’s mom, as soon as she stepped inside.
“I’m sorry,” Ana said, trying not to lose the feeling she’d had as she walked home. Why was it so much easier to love your family when they weren’t around?
The light from the hallway cast sharp shadows across Babushka’s weathered face. “You cannot always be sorry,” she said. “What good is sorry when your family sits here in the dark? The menorah should have been lit hours ago.”
Ana’s mad was coming back fast. “I wasn’t gone for hours, and you could have lit it without me,” she said. “That’s what we do, right? If somebody’s not here, we just go on without them.”
“Ana,” warned her mom.
“Or we replace them with the Russian police,” she muttered.
“Ana!” snapped her mom.
Babushka laughed. “I like that. Yes, I am Russian police. Tonight, police will report stolen property.”
“What?” Ana and her mom asked together. Had Babushka finally figured out who had stolen the red socks from her knitting bag? That had been weeks ago.
Babushka scowled. “My suitcase is empty. Ana knows what should be inside.”
Ana’s stomach dropped. Had Katie stolen the watch?
It didn’t matter. Ana was a loyal friend, not a rat.
“I know there was a watch in your suitcase, but I didn’t steal it. That bird on the back is super creepy.”
Babushka almost looked wounded, but then she sniffed and sat up straight. “The watch is made by hand in Russia. Not in factory full of American plastic. You do not like anything unless it is made of plastic.”
Ana was sick of being insulted and accused. Maybe the reason they’d all been feeling rotten was because Babushka made everything seem that way.
“If Russia is so much better, why haven’t you ever gone back there? If we’re so awful, why are you still here?”
Babushka pointed a finger at Ana. “Because home is home. Family is family. Nothing is more important than this.”
“Well you sure did a crappy job of teaching your son that.”
Babushka clutched a hand to her stomach, then crumpled in her chair, like her bones had suddenly gone soft.
“That’s enough!” Ana’s mom slammed her hands against the coffee table so hard it shook. “Everybody, that’s enough. I can’t handle this.”
With shaking hands, she lit the shamash, then lit all the other candles herself without saying a single one of the prayers. They all knew that was the wrong way to do it, but even Mikey knew not to say anything.
Ana’s mom turned to them. “Just go to bed, everybody. Please.” Nobody looked at each other as they left the candles to burn themselves out.
Upstairs, Ana locked her bedroom door and slid between the cold, stiff layers of her sheets. She wanted to get back to the feeling she’d had walking home. She wanted to live in the movie she’d seen in her head, of four faces smiling in the light of the candles with fresh latkes in everyone’s hands.
Hanukkah was supposed to be about rebuilding. So why was everything falling apart?
Ana waited for a knock, a stern lecture, a list of chores for punishment, Mikey’s little voice . . . anything. But soon, the house was silent, and she was still alone.
Katie
Chapter 15
THE MUSIC OF The Nutcracker wove its way through Katie’s mind all the way home. She waltzed lazily into her room, ready to let the melodies and the memories of the night carry her right off to sleep. But when she clicked on her bedside lamp, something was different.
Ana’s beanie still lay on the dresser, exactly as she’d left it. The same books still lined the shelves in neat rows, except for the small pile on her nightstand. Her closet was every bit as messy as it had been before.
Katie looked back toward her bed. She reached under the covers and was relieved to feel the cool weight of the watch against her fingers. But something else crackled inside it.
A note. Katie unfolded and began to read.
Dear Katie,
Your parents love you more than anything. That’s so lucky. I’m sorry you got hurt, but I know you’ll get better soon. I hope you still trust me, because I trust you. And I take back what I said before about you needing to find some courage. Just stay safe, okay? You’re already brave.
Ana
As she folded the note back up, Katie wondered what kind of note Ana would have written if she knew the truth. Katie’s parents did love her, and that was lucky, but what about the parents who had given her away?
And the part in the middle. I hope you still trust me, because I trust you.
Of course she trusted Ana. It hadn’t been her fault Katie had fallen.
Except if she really trusted Ana, wouldn’t she trust her with her secrets? Ana definitely wouldn’t think Katie was brave if she knew Katie didn’t even dare tell the truth.
Katie tucked the note into her nightstand for safekeeping. If Ana thought she was brave, she would be. Katie would tell her best friend everything the very next chance she got.
So first thing Monday morning, Katie got her mom’s permission for Ana to come over after school.
“Of course,” she said as she cut beef into stew-size strips for the Crock-Pot. “I didn’t think she needed an invitation. Make sure she brings her little brother too. I don’t want him alone in that big house.”
Katie zipped up her coat and checked to make sure her headband still covered her wound. “Their grandma is staying there.”
“Oh.”
“They call her Babushka.”
“Oh!” Katie’s mother smoothed out her apron and glanced toward her little study.
“He can still come, though. I like Mikey.”
Katie weighed her words the whole walk to school with Ana and Mikey, and when she got to the frost-covered playground she finally asked.
“Hey, after school, if you’re not busy, maybe you guys could come over to . . .”
“Yes!” said Mikey. “We super could!”
“We’ll come for sure,” Ana said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, but it feels awkward to ask you here.” Katie had never seen Ana so serious. “We’ll be
friends no matter what, but I need you to tell me the truth.”
“Okay,” Katie said. She felt a little sick as they walked to class. Had Ana already found out Katie’s secrets? Was it too late for the truth to come from her first?
After last recess, Ms. Decker spread old magazines and colorful paper from the recycling box across the art table.
“Today,” she said, “we’ll be making presents for your families—picture frames. We’ll take a picture of each of you to put inside, and you can give it to anybody you like.” She held up a picture frame covered in colorful paper circles, and Katie’s heart sang. There it was—the perfect gift for her parents! They’d love it, she knew, and they’d put it proudly on display. If she made them something pretty from paper circles, it could make up for what she’d written on her last Thankful. Katie would make hers even better than the example. She’d be the perfect daughter from now on. No more writing hurtful things, no more sneaking off to skate.
Ms. Decker showed them how to cut the paper into strips—almost like the Thankfuls—and fold each piece in half. After that, each strip was rolled around a toothpick until it made a small, bright circle, and each circle was glued onto the picture frame.
“While you work,” Ms. Decker said, “I’m going to read you some Christmas stories . . .”
Ana cleared her throat.
“. . . and Hanukkah stories, and as many others as we have time for. Don’t you love all the cultural celebrations this time of year? I want you to notice how different these stories are, but also to look for all the things you can find that are the same.” She smiled at the class. “Luckily, we have time for quite a few, because this project takes a while.”
“Wait, seriously?” Ana asked. “We’re just going to throw all the different stories together like that? It’ll be like solyanka.”
“What’s solyanka?” Ms. Decker asked.
“It’s a soup my grandma makes. It’s every random thing she’s got, all mixed together.”
Ms. Decker nodded. “I like that. A mixture of all the stories that make us who we are. I guess maybe we’re all a little bit solyanka, if you think about it.”
Katie began cutting her paper strips. She planned out her patterns as Ms. Decker read, hoping to recognize herself in one of the stories. What were the ingredients in her soup? She wasn’t sure anymore.
After a Hanukkah story and a Kwanzaa story, Ms. Decker gave them a break, and Katie was proud to realize that her picture frame was the farthest along and looked the neatest too. She could make things. At least she still knew that about herself.
“Only a little longer,” said Ms. Decker when she called them back. “We can finish these up tomorrow. Make sure you have plenty of paper strips, though. You’ll need to cover the whole thing.” As she found her next story, Ana pointed to her own frame, which was a disaster.
“Somebody needs to put this thing out of its misery,” she whispered with a roll of her eyes. Katie giggled at the joke, then felt guilty because her own frame looked so much better.
Ms. Decker waited for the class to settle back into their project, then cracked open an old book. “The Gift of the Magi,” she read, “by O. Henry.”
Something about the story—the words, the rhythm—reminded Katie of her dad. It seemed perfect in the beginning: Two people who loved each other very much, and Christmas time, and even a beautiful pocket watch. Katie couldn’t help but feel this story was meant for her.
Then everything changed as the story continued, and a sickness grew in Katie’s stomach. The husband sold his pocket watch to buy combs for his wife’s hair; she bought a chain for that same watch with the money she’d gotten from selling her hair. All that sacrifice, all for nothing. All because they were trying to keep secrets, like Katie was now.
Between the words of the story, Katie heard the gentle shush of a paper coming uncoiled on her frame. She had barely glued it back down when another released. Katie panicked and looked around her, but everyone else’s papers seemed to stick on the frame, just as they should. Even Ana’s were staying put.
“No,” she whispered as she coated another one with glue. “No, no, no. Please just stay.”
More glue made it look worse, and still the coils came undone, faster than she could fix them.
“‘White fingers pulled off the paper,’” read Ms. Decker. “‘And then a cry of joy; and then a change to tears.’”
It doesn’t matter, the story seemed to tell Katie through her struggle. Even if it’s Christmas, and you’ve given all you have to make things perfect, and you love each other more than anything—even then it can all go wrong. One big mistake can ruin everything.
Katie stared down at her art, just waiting for the next piece to come undone. She needed air. She jumped to her feet, right in the middle of Ms. Decker’s sentence. “May I be excused?” Her voice sounded strange and strangled, even to her.
Ms. Decker nodded and gave Katie such a kind smile she almost cried. She planned to head down the hall to splash some cool water on her face and take a few deep breaths. But her feet carried her straight past the bathroom, straight out the main doors, straight toward her house.
The wind cut through Katie’s thin sweater. The fresh air probably should have helped, but being out beneath the big, cold sky only seemed to make room for her fears to grow. She didn’t even know who she was anymore. Was she the straight-A student or the girl who left school? The one who was totally honest or the one who told lies and kept secrets? The perfect daughter who always obeyed, or the rule breaker who nearly broke her head open and left schoool early?
Katie didn’t know. Now that she’d messed up in such a big way, a little part of her whispered, This is who you really are, and it’s not good enough.
The only thing Katie was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone. She ran up the steps and burst through the front door.
“Mom!”
Silence.
“Mom? Dad?”
The rhythmic rush and drip of the dishwasher was her only answer. She raced to the garage and found nothing but dirty, damp tire tracks. Even outside, the streets were deserted. Katie put her hands against the glass and stared, stared, stared, hoping to see one of her parents drive around the corner.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Only a few weeks ago, when Thanksgiving break had started, her mom had been here, waiting and wanting to be with her. Shouldn’t she be here when Katie needed her most?
The clock in the kitchen struck three, which meant that down the street, the bell was ringing too. Soon after, a dim rumbling of voices started from the direction of the school and a sprinkling of bright coats appeared in the distance. Katie retreated to her room and tore off her headband. She tore off the Band-Aid too and didn’t even bother to put on a new one. The scab was still jagged and dark, but it felt good to let it show for once. She was done lying and keeping secrets.
When she heard the back door creak open and the sounds of shuffling in the kitchen, Katie took a few deep breaths, then hurried down the stairs, ready to tell her mom everything.
But it was Ana and Mikey, standing in front of the pantry with stacks of cookies in their hands.
“Hey,” said Ana. “I hope it’s still okay that we came over.” She nodded toward the door, where three backpacks and coats lay in a pile. “Ms. Decker gave me your stuff. She totally noticed you left early, by the way. She says you can finish your project tomorrow.”
Ana took a big bite of snickerdoodle and nudged Mikey with her elbow. “Let’s get some milk.”
Katie grabbed glasses for them, but she let Ana pour since she still felt a little shaky. When Ana and Mikey had settled at the counter with their snack, Katie cleared her throat.
“Do you want to know why I left today?” she asked.
“I think I know,” Ana said. “But tell me anyway.”
“Well,” Katie said, “my project was falling apart.”
“It wasn’t worse than mine,” Ana said. “Trust me.”
Katie blushed. She’d forgotten about that part. “It wasn’t just that, though. It was something about that story. The one about the couple and the hair.”
“That ending was the worst,” Ana said through a mouthful of cookie. “It made me glad you said no when I offered to cut you some bangs the other day.” Then she stared straight at Katie and swallowed hard. “Oh, right. The hair . . . and the pocket watch.”
“Right,” Katie said, unsure why Ana was so focused on the watch. “But I just . . .”
With a crash and a gush, Mikey’s glass toppled and milk rushed into his lap.
“Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry,” Ana chanted as she lunged for a dish towel. “Please, please, Mikey, don’t cry.”
Katie got a wet cloth, relieved that she didn’t have to tell the truth quite yet. She helped Ana clean up the mess—first on the counter, and then on Mikey.
“I look like I had an accident,” he said. “I look like a baby, and Jarek’s going to make fun of me again.”
Ana knelt down and looked Mikey straight in the face. “He’s not going to see you. Nobody’s hanging out by the pond today. It’s too cold. And he’s not ever going to make fun of you again. Remember the puck?”
Did Ana still think her puck was like a firebird feather? Katie wasn’t sure, but Mikey’s face brightened.
“Plus,” Ana added, “I bet Katie has some old pants you can borrow.”
Mikey was big for his age and Katie was small, so her old purple sweats fit him pretty well. She worried he’d hate the color, but he just grabbed them and ran into the bathroom to change. When he was settled down and playing with the round nesting dolls in the living room, Katie decided to try telling Ana her whole truth again.
“Okay, so I was going to tell you something.”
“About the story with the pocket watch,” Ana said. “And why it was so hard for you to sit and listen.”
“Yeah.”
“I think I already know. If you just give it back, it won’t be a big deal. I’ll take the blame if she’s mad.”
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