Carols and Crushes

by Natalie Blitt

  “Did someone run over your dog?” Phoebe Miller asks from behind me. Phoebe is sweet, but I can’t tell if she’s joking or genuinely concerned, so I let Renee explain the concept of an expression to her. I wonder if Phoebe is jealous because she’s not in a group with Matthew Yee—I’ve heard her and her best friend in chorus, Veronica Martinez, whispering about how they think Matthew is cute. I guess he is kind of cute, with his floppy black hair and bright dark eyes behind glasses. But I don’t see him that way.

  Anyway, maybe Phoebe is in Matthew’s group. And mine. I would know if I had been listening!

  “I thought you’d be super excited,” Renee whispers to me as Phoebe gets up and leaves. Renee and I are the only ones left in the classroom now.

  “Well, I’m excited the concert is back on,” I say, getting to my feet.

  “And what about the group?” Renee presses, her eyes sparkling.

  “What about it?” I ask.

  “We’re in the same group,” she says, her brow furrowed. At least I think it is, under all that curly hair.

  I startle. “Wait, we are? That’s great! So you, me, Matthew, and—”

  She laughs. “Yes. You and me and Matthew and Eric.”

  Eric.

  Eric?

  I’m in the same group as Eric!

  I can’t stop smiling as Renee and I head for the classroom door.

  I’m in a group with Eric. And Renee. It couldn’t be more perfect. And Matthew isn’t the worst possible fourth. I won’t even notice him because I’ll be getting to sing with Eric after school.

  Eeek.

  Matthew and Eric stand in the hallway, evidently waiting for Renee and me.

  “Good going, Dickens!” Matthew says, giving me a fist bump.

  “It’s really thanks to Eric in many ways.” I’m staring at my boots and I hope nobody can see what is probably an enormous blush taking over my cheeks. I inherited my pale skin from Dad: When we blush, people can see it from miles away. The only thing worse is when we get a sunburn. That they can probably see from the International Space Station.

  “Okay, yay, everyone,” Renee says, ending the awkwardness. “So where should we meet? And when?”

  “We can meet at my house,” I say quickly, my eyes on Renee so that I don’t blush. “I live pretty close to the school. We can walk from here.”

  Everyone nods but Renee. “Are you sure that’s going to be okay with your parents?” she asks me knowingly.

  “Of course,” I fudge. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  It has to be okay. And maybe after we rehearse, Eric and I can hang out. We can watch a movie and get some snacks …

  “I have basketball usually two afternoons a week,” Matthew says, staring at his phone.

  I groan. I debate whether I should ask him if he really wants to continue with chorus since he already has so much on his plate. But I’m a little worried that with only three people, Mrs. Hamilton won’t let us audition for the showcase.

  “But I can do today,” he adds, looking up.

  I glance at Eric and Renee and they all nod.

  “Okay,” I say, standing tall and trying to quell the nervousness in my belly. “My house today, after school!”

  “Let’s meet by our lockers after the last bell and walk over together,” Renee suggests.

  The late bell rings, and we all scatter for our classes. It occurs to me that I should probably call home at some point to ask permission.

  But I’m sure it’ll be fine.

  * * *

  After school, the four of us—Renee, me, Matthew, and Eric (eep!)—walk in a group to my house.

  My hands shake as I unlock the front door. I’ve never had a boy over to my house before. Let alone two boys. Let alone a boy I have a crush on!

  Thankfully, the downstairs is empty. When I called earlier to ask if it was okay to bring friends over after school, Mom had reluctantly agreed, but she said she’d be up in Sadie’s room working with her on reading.

  The four of us gather in my living room, Renee and I sitting on the couch and the boys taking the floor.

  “I guess we can start by rehearsing what’s on the song list Mrs. Hamilton gave us,” Matthew suggests, scrolling through his phone. “What were the songs again?”

  “ ‘Silent Night,’ ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,’ ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland,’ ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,’ ‘Let It Snow,’ and ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You,’ ” I rattle off, not even pausing to think. It helps that I’ve sung the songs in bed ever since we received the song list.

  “Wow,” Eric says, and I turn to avoid everyone seeing the blush again. Except turning reveals all the family pictures on the mantle including … gah! Very, very embarrassing baby pictures of me.

  Please don’t let Eric notice them, I beg the universe.

  “Why don’t we start at the top?” Matthew asks.

  Because we didn’t know we’d be doing this, nobody has their music, so we try singing from memory.

  We sound terrible.

  “Maybe we should loosen up?” Renee suggests. “Like, do some of the warm-up exercises that Mrs. Hamilton makes us do.”

  We try those. We sound like barnyard animals.

  “Can you guys keep it down a bit?” Mom has poked her head into the living room and she doesn’t look happy. Though that might have to do with Sadie shouting upstairs. Or maybe we’re singing louder to drown out Sadie’s voice.

  “Sure, Mrs. Dickens,” Matthew says, and I can’t tell if he’s making fun of our name again. I glare-squint at him.

  We try “Silent Night” again. We sound slightly better but we’re tentative, our voices small. It’s as if we’re afraid of one another. When I raise my voice, Mom comes back to ask us to keep it down.

  “Why don’t you head outside?” she suggests.

  “It’s cold!” I protest. What kind of hospitality is this?

  “Well, carolers always sing outside, so maybe it’ll get you in the mood.”

  I roll my eyes. Mom smiles tightly.

  “Fine, why don’t you go down to the basement?” she suggests. “That way we won’t bother you and you don’t need to worry about being too loud.”

  Our basement is gross. It’s still filled with old toys, boxes of old clothing to be donated, and Jed’s used sports equipment.

  “Mom, can’t we just stay up here?” I whisper, stepping aside into the hallway to talk to her alone.

  Mom sighs. “Well, maybe you’ll check with me in advance next time before you invite your friends over, Charlie. Sadie is supposed to be doing some practice tests, only she refuses to do it and I have twenty minutes before I need to take your brother to his basketball game in Hyatt. And your father is stuck with a client until five thirty. Before you showed up with your friends, I’d hoped I could leave Sadie with you while I drove Jed out there, and Dad could pick up pizza on his way home. But now she’s freaking out and …”

  “I can still stay home with her,” I say, shrugging. “She can hang out while we rehearse.”

  “She needs to do her practice tests,” Mom sighs. “I’d hoped to get them out of the way before you had to babysit, but all the disruption just got everything off schedule.”

  “Can I help?”

  I whip around and see Eric standing behind us.

  I soften. Of course Eric would offer to help. It’s just the type of person he is.

  Mom’s eyes widen and she smiles. “Thank you …”

  “Eric,” he says, answering her silent question.

  Oh no. In fourth and fifth grades, I used to talk about my crush on Eric all the time. What if she remembers? What if she says something embarrassing? I want to hide.

  “Eric.” The corners of her mouth inch up again, but it looks like I might be safe. “I appreciate the offer, but we’re having a hard time with some test work that Sadie has to do and—”

  “I’m not doing it!” Sadie bellows from upstairs. My
ears hurt from the noise, and I can’t believe Eric is listening to all this. It is so mortifying.

  “Would it help if we rescheduled our rehearsal time?” he asks, and my mom nods.

  “I’d love to have you kids practice here, but I just don’t think it makes sense right now.”

  By now, Renee and Matthew have joined us in the hallway, and I want to cry. Why can’t this one thing work out for me? Why does it always have to be about Sadie and Jed?

  “Maybe your mom was right about caroling outside,” Matthew says. “Maybe next time, we could practice in Lincoln Square. It might be cold, but I think it would be nice to have other people listening. And it would bring some Christmas cheer.”

  I want to find a problem with his solution, but the truth is that I can’t. It kind of makes sense.

  I walk Eric, Matthew, and Renee to the front door, and they start putting on their jackets and hats and scarves. We agree to meet up on Friday after school.

  “We should try to pick the five songs we want to present to Mrs. Hamilton,” Eric says as he pulls on his woolen hat.

  “I’ll do that!” I volunteer. I love picking songs.

  “And I’ll help you,” Matthew offers, which is surprising. I figure he hardly knows any holiday songs.

  “Okay,” I say because I’m too startled to protest. Then Matthew waves bye to us and heads out the door.

  Suddenly, Eric turns to Renee.

  “Why don’t I walk you home?” he asks.

  Um … what? It’s still mostly light outside, which means there’s really no good reason for Renee to need someone to walk her home.

  Unless that someone just … wants to.

  My heart sinks.

  Please don’t let Eric Sosland have a crush on Renee. Please, please, because that would be so awkward.

  Nobody knows better than Renee how I feel about Eric.

  And if he has a crush on her …

  It means he doesn’t like me.

  Renee’s head pivots to me, and her eyes are wide.

  “Isn’t that out of your way, Eric?” I ask.

  “Nah,” he says. “It’s on the way to my bus stop, actually.”

  I glance at Renee. She could always say no. Or she could make an excuse to stay here with me. Or …

  “Sure, it would be nice to have company,” Renee finally says with a shrug.

  I watch as Renee and Eric leave together.

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  * * *

  “Do you like him?” I ask Renee for the fourth time the next morning. She’s already apologized for not getting my subconscious message, but while I believe her, I also … don’t. Which feels awful.

  “He’s a nice guy,” she says, pulling her hair back with the elastic that she wears around her wrist. Renee always has an elastic around her wrist, because when she feels the need to put her hair up, it drives her crazy if she can’t. Like crazy-crazy. I’ve seen it happen and it isn’t pretty. And I get it, because that’s how I react to overheating. Which is why Renee’s mom carries extra bottles of water for me when she drives us anywhere.

  “Nice guy like he’s nice but no big deal, or nice guy like oooh, isn’t he nice …” I change my voice for each alternative. I think I’m being pretty clear, but Renee stops and raises her eyebrows at me.

  I giggle despite myself.

  “Stop,” she says. “Nice guy, full stop. He’s your crush, not mine.”

  “Then why did you let him walk you home?”

  The hallway around us is filled with the sounds of lockers slamming, but it isn’t the noise that keeps Renee’s answer from me. “I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” she finally answers, pulling the elastic high up in her ponytail. “If I had known that you’d see it as an ultimate betrayal, I never—”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You kind of did.”

  I close my eyes and lean back on my locker. “I thought this would be our big chance,” I whisper, though it’s not a revelation to Renee. She’s known about my dream that the concert will show Eric how right we are together.

  “It still can be. So he walked me home. We chatted about nothing in particular. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not here to take away your boyfriend.”

  I choke, whipping my head around to make sure no one heard her. “He’s totally not my boyfriend,” I whisper.

  “Stop worrying,” she says, “it’s the holidays. And tomorrow we’re going to go caroling in the street, which is totally your jam.”

  I hold on to that thought, but it doesn’t bring much lightness.

  It seems like forever until the day is done. Maybe because our Spanish teacher insisted that we do worksheets in class, which always makes time slow to a stop.

  To my shock, as I exit the classroom, I spot Matthew standing outside.

  “Hey!” he says when I meet his gaze. “I was hoping to catch you.”

  His eyes twinkle as a slow smile overtakes his face. A smile directed at me? Weird.

  “How did you know I’d be here?” I ask, though it’s clearly not the most important question.

  He shrugs one shoulder and appears almost sheepish. “I knew you took Advanced Spanish and my locker is down at North Bay, so I always see you walk past at the end of the day on Thursdays. So I figured, unless you were skipping, which seemed highly unlikely, you’d be coming out of this door at precisely this moment.”

  He stops talking and I realize with a start that he’s waiting for me to say something, to carry on the next part of the conversation. But I’m still puzzling over the part where he said he sees me walk out of class. That he knows which class I’m in. It’s like Matthew Yee is paying attention to me, which seems entirely impossible.

  “Well, you’re right on both counts,” I finally get out. My face flushes when I replay the words that came out while my brain was on holiday.

  “So we need to come up with a good list of carols for tomorrow,” Matthew says as we start to walk down the hall together. “Remember? The five songs?”

  I nod.

  “But I have a basketball game tonight,” Matthew continues. “I don’t know if you were planning to go to the game or not. I mean, not that you have to or anything … you probably have other things to do. But, if you were, or even really if you weren’t, maybe we could head to the library and use one of those workrooms to come up with a plan? I can tell my mom that I’ll walk home a little later, like right before I have to leave for the game. And if you were coming to the game, we could even give you a ride out there.”

  My head spins. “Um, I wasn’t planning …” How can I say that the idea of going to a basketball game when I’m not forced to be there out of family loyalty gives me hives? “I’m not a basketball person,” I finally say.

  From the way his face drops, that was clearly not the right way to tell him.

  “I mean, I have to go to a lot of my brother, Jed’s, games, so I try to limit my time in the gym to …” I’m making zero sense. I can’t even remember what the question was anymore.

  But just as Matthew is about to reply, I hear a shout and I feel the smack of a basketball against my side. Is this payback for my comments?

  “Oww,” I cry out. I shift to the side of the hall, dropping my bag on the ground and rubbing my upper arm. Can a basketball break your arm? Is that even possible?

  I rotate my arm as Matthew takes a step closer. “Mike, what were you thinking?” he calls over his shoulder. “Charlie, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I bristle. I watch as Mike Hughes and a bunch of other basketball guys wave at us and shout apologies. Now that the pain in my arm is fading, I’m more annoyed that Matthew’s whole popular posse had to witness the accident. “Maybe if you guys didn’t play ball in the hallway, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

  I don’t mean to sound so crabby. I hear Mike hoot with laughter from across the hall. “Dude, she totally schooled you.” He presses his lips together and then points at Matthew.r />
  I roll my eyes.

  “Are you really okay?” Matthew asks again, ignoring Mike.

  I blush and drop my gaze. “I’m fine.”

  “Seriously, why don’t I get you some ice? I don’t want it to turn into a bruise—”

  “Hahahaha,” Mike chuckles, twirling the ball on his finger, poorly. Doesn’t this guy need to get to a bus or something? “I love the idea of you playing nursemaid, Yee. You’d look very cute tending to poor Charlie Dickens who hurt her arm.”

  I grit my teeth at Mike’s mocking tone.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat, throwing my bag over my shoulder. Ouch. “Except I need to get home. So move. If we’re forced to be partners, let’s just talk over text. I can’t imagine this holiday concert is all that important to you. I don’t even know why you bother with chorus anyway.”

  Matthew takes a step back, his eyes wide. I feel like a jerk, but now my head is pounding, and my arm is killing me.

  I can’t get to my locker and out of school fast enough.

  * * *

  Dinner that night is not much better. My parents drop a bombshell.

  “Wait, what do you mean you’re going to Cleveland?” I cry across the table when they finish telling us about their plans for a mini vacation to accompany Jed’s basketball team to the Midwest tournament.

  On the first weekend of winter break.

  And that Saturday night happens to be the holiday concert. Which my parents definitely knew about (considering I tried to hold rehearsals here and all).

  “Well, truthfully, I was hoping we’d all go as a family,” Dad explains. “This is a big deal for Jed. If the team wins this, it’ll really put them in the spotlight.”

  The word spotlight rankles me. “But what about the holiday concert? This is the year that I could have a solo!”

  Or something.

  “We didn’t do it intentionally,” Mom says, and I can tell she’s trying to keep her voice even. “We didn’t choose the tournament weekend. We wanted to do something fun for everyone. And Cleveland has—”

  “Will our hotel have a pool? And a breakfast?” Sadie asks, and I want to glare at her for being a traitor. But I know if I give her one wrong look, I’ll be in even more trouble.