Carols and Crushes

by Natalie Blitt

  I need to focus.

  “It’s just that Jed has so many tournaments,” I argue while Jed silently but happily wolfs down his spaghetti. “There’ll be another one in a few months. But this concert is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  Mom doesn’t roll her eyes, but she might as well. Instead, she gives me the try again look.

  “We’re always cheering Jed on,” I try instead, and I hate that my voice is cracking, but I feel like the tears are close behind. “I wanted it to be my turn.”

  “Honey, it’s not a question of turns,” Dad says. “There’ll be other opportunities for you to sing. You have a lovely voice. But if you really don’t want to come to Cleveland with us, then I’ll ask Grandma and Grandpa to come stay with you. That way they can also make your concert. Would that work?”

  The answer is no. The answer is such a strong heck, no that I’m afraid if I say it, I’ll scream it. But Dad wasn’t really asking the question. Because now Sadie is looking up hotels on Mom’s phone, and I slink away. This is so typically my family.

  * * *

  “Ugh, I’m sorry,” Renee says when I update her that night. I’m hiding in the bathroom, the water running so no one will hear our conversation. Technically, my phone is supposed to be plugged in downstairs right now. But nobody has come to “remind me,” so I’m playing dumb about the rule.

  If my parents aren’t going to support my one major dream in life and attend the holiday concert, I can’t be expected to support their rules about screen usage and technology time.

  “I don’t know why I’m shocked.” I stare out the tiny bathroom window. It snowed earlier, but the cold temperature made the snow freeze to ice. While I know it’s probably dangerous outside, it makes for a really pretty landscape. “It’s so my family to do something like this.”

  “Well, your grandma is super into Christmas like you, right? So maybe you can use her presence to sneak in an early tree and decorations?” Renee offers.

  “Charlie, Sadie needs to brush her teeth!” Mom calls, rattling the handle on the door.

  “Can’t she do it in your bathroom?” I shout back, ballooning out my mouth to make it sound like I have a mouth full of toothpaste. I’m kind of an expert at this stuff.

  “Her toothbrush is in there,” Mom reminds me, and I sigh. I’m not as much of an expert as I like to think.

  “Did you and Matthew pick the songs for tomorrow yet?” Renee is asking me. “I thought it was smart of Eric to suggest we do that.”

  I debate pretending I didn’t hear her. Is Renee interested in Eric? I don’t let the thought settle before I push it away.

  “Oops, gotta go,” I say, opening the door for my mom. “I’ll text you later,” I tell my best friend, and hang up.

  Sigh.

  Back in my room, I open my computer and start playing one of my many Christmas albums (bought with my own allowance because my parents think holiday albums are cheesy). I try to center myself in the voices of Pentatonix.

  One day I’ll sing in a real a cappella group.

  That’s the dream, at least.

  First step, Christmas concert. Which means, I guess, making nice with Matthew.

  I open up my instant chat, find Matthew on there, and send him a message.

  The icon beside Matthew’s name makes it seem like he’s online, but I don’t see a response. Maybe he’s still at the basketball game. I trail my fingers up and down the computer keyboard.

  A-N-S-W-E-R, I tap on the keys without actually typing the letters.

  “Charlie, you aren’t supposed to be on the computer right now,” Dad calls from downstairs. Right. I forgot he and Mom can see me on Gchat, too.

  “It’s for homework,” I yell back, which is mostly true.

  Come on, Matthew, I beg silently. I hope he’s not mad at me for snapping at him before. I should probably apologize, but …

  Here’s what I’m thinking, I type instead. It’s almost easier to write it all down now without Matthew being there on the other end. Let’s just pick six songs to start and see how they go. Four that are pretty easy that will allow us to bond as a group. And then two additional songs that will take a longer time to perfect. That way, when we’re caroling, we can have four good strong songs, and then two that we’re still working on. And then if we decide one isn’t working, we can exchange it for another.

  It’s actually not a bad plan.

  “How much longer will you be?” Dad asks from the bottom of the stairs.

  Still no answer from Matthew. The whole thing might be irrelevant if he doesn’t get back to me.

  I consider explaining to Dad how chatting with Matthew—or not chatting, as the case may be—really is homework. Then I decide against it. “Not much longer!” I call back.

  “I need to run out to the store and Mom is in her office working. I want you off the computer when I get back, okay, hon?”

  Suddenly, a bubble appears next to Matthew’s icon. He’s there! He’s typing!

  “Charlie?” Dad calls. “Did you hear me?”

  I exhale. He likes the idea. And I can’t say no to “The Little Drummer Boy.” Though I’m a little surprised that Matthew has a favorite carol.

  “Charlotte Dickens!” Dad calls. Eep. When he uses my full name, he means business.

  “Yup, Dad, I’ll be off soon!” I promise, my heart beating quickly.

  “Okay,” Dad calls back. Then I hear the front door open and close. Whew.

  Matthew is typing again.

  I laugh. Matthew writes in all caps. Who knew?

  I blush. It feels a bit odd to talk about singing with Eric … with Matthew.

  We end up throwing back and forth tons of song choices, so many that we have a surplus. I’m surprised that Matthew and I are basically in agreement about our favorite songs.

  Who’d have guessed?

  “How come you didn’t text me last night?” Renee asks the next morning at our lockers.

  “Ugh. I wound up Gchatting until late with Matthew, and my dad got mad and made me go to bed.”

  I roll my eyes for effect. In truth, it was kind of fun to be Gchatting with Matthew. Something about chatting online made him seem less … intimidating.

  Though it wasn’t very fun when my dad caught me still on the computer when he came back from the store. Especially since I was laughing with Matthew about Christmas videos when Dad walked into my room. After nine thirty.

  Oops.

  “Did you guys put together the song list?” Renee asks excitedly.

  I nod, closing my locker. “We picked three songs that are kind of standards and will probably be pretty easy: ‘Silent Night,’ ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,’ and ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas.’ And then two songs that will take more work: ‘Blue Christmas’ and ‘The Little Drummer Boy.’ We got stuck trying to come up with a sixth alternate, though. There are too many options.”

  I watch Renee pull her science textbooks out of her locker and hold them as she struggles to shove her coat inside.

  “That sounds good,” she mutters.

  “Oh-kay …” Something isn’t right. “It’s just the list that we came up with. It’s no big deal. If there’s anything you don’t want to do, let’s talk about it. Or we can scrap the whole list.”

  She shuts her locker. “I think we just need different types of songs.”

  Is she worried I’m trying to steal all the good parts? I cycle through the songs in my head, and I can’t figure it out.

  “These aren’t just songs for me to sing,” I tell her. “I think you should take the lead in ‘Silent Night’ because your voice is great for that one.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” At least that’s what I think she says. She’s walking faster than I am, which means that her words are getting buried in the noise of the crowded corridors.

  I grab her sleeve and for a moment she keeps moving, as though she plans to just break out of my grasp. And then she stops.

  Th
ank goodness.

  When I take the extra step to reach her, she’s staring down.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” she admits. “I know I’m being weird. But I wish all the songs we were doing weren’t so Christmas-y.”

  Of the million possibilities that ran through my head, this wasn’t even on the list.

  “They’re holiday songs,” I point out.

  “About Christmas.”

  “Well, yeah,” I say, realizing she’s right. Despite myself, I bark out an uncomfortable chuckle.

  Maybe it was the strangled laugh that breaks the ice, but at least now she’s looking at me. “They all feel so religious. And that religion isn’t mine.”

  I lick my lips, trying to figure out what to say. I want to ask what’s changed, since last year she didn’t feel this way. She watched every Christmas special with me. And she even came to Midnight Mass with me and my grandma because it has the best music.

  “For me, the songs aren’t about religion,” I explain. “They’re about great music. And getting to sing on stage. And the magic of the holidays.”

  Renee nods, softening. “I understand. And I do love all these songs. But …”

  “Hey!” I have an idea. “Why don’t we add a couple of Hanukkah songs to the mix? Like ‘Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel’?”

  Renee brightens. “Or ‘Hanukkah, O Hanukkah’?”

  I smile back at her. “Perfect.”

  * * *

  At lunch, Matthew and Eric come over to sit with me and Renee and we discuss the song choices. The boys are on board with adding a Hanukkah song. We decide to swap out “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” for “Hanukkah, O Hanukkah.” The only thing we can’t agree on is a sixth alternate song.

  We sit in silence, drumming our fingers on the table. Things suddenly feel tense. Then something occurs to me.

  “Remember ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’?” I ask.

  Renee snorts. “Who could forget?”

  Last year the middle school chorus did an a cappella rendition of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” which, of course, has no words. All the instruments were replaced by voices, and two of the stars of the football squad dressed up as ballerinas and danced in the middle.

  Eric starts trying to mimic the sound, and it’s not nearly as good as last year’s performance, but then Matthew steps in. And it’s dorky and silly and it won’t help anything, but then Renee’s voice slips between theirs and I jump in, and we’re doing a truly terrible reenactment of the performance, right in the cafeteria. Everyone is glancing over at us, but we don’t care. It’s hilarious.

  We hold the last notes a few beats too long, and when I glance around at the group, I’m relieved to find we aren’t nearly as stiff and tense as before.

  “Okay,” I say, clapping my hands. “Renee, what would be your pick for the sixth song? You decide.”

  “Wait,” she says. She snaps her fingers. “What about something fun like ‘Let It Go’?”

  It’s not my favorite song, but it could work.

  “Okay with you guys?” I turn to Matthew and Eric, and they both nod.

  “I was hoping we could do ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,’” Matthew says with a fake pout, and it makes us all laugh.

  I didn’t think Matthew Yee could make me laugh. But I guess he’s full of surprises.

  * * *

  The plan is to meet after school at the corner of Maple and Simpson to choose a spot in Lincoln Square.

  I’m so excited to go caroling that I’m literally bouncing as I leave my locker. I know it sounds dorky and old-fashioned, but this is the music I love. I love the chimes of bells I can hear keeping time. I love the blending of voices. Carols are the best kind of music: songs you can sing with other people.

  And maybe it’s that happiness rushing through my body that gives me the hit of courage I need to approach Eric when I see him at the front entrance of school.

  “Are you heading to our rehearsal?” I ask.

  He’s bundled in a hat and scarf and mittens. “I am.” He turns to glance at the door one more time. “Should we wait for Matthew and Renee or will they meet us there?”

  Eric is almost a full foot taller than me, and I feel like I need to tilt my head back to talk to him. His big brown eyes are bright.

  Forgive me, Renee. “They’ll meet us there,” I say. And the smile that takes over my face is as close as I can get to laughing without making a sound.

  The walk to Maple and Simpson only takes five minutes, but when you are finally walking alone with your crush of the past three years and can’t think of a thing to say? It feels like eternity.

  “Do you have any plans over winter break?” I ask after we’ve gone through the boring comments of school, homework load, blah blah blah.

  “I’m not sure,” Eric says. “My dad recently lost his job, so I think we might just stay home. Not that we usually do anything big, but I think we’re trying to do things that don’t cost much.”

  “That sucks,” I say. I don’t know much about Eric’s family, but I remember going to a birthday party in a fairly large house. I wonder if he’s worried that he’ll have to move.

  “It’s okay. There are lots of people going through the same thing, especially in my dad’s field, which is finance. My brother is taking it harder because he really wanted to go to hockey camp over break and that’s not happening now. But he’ll get over it. And, hopefully, next year he’ll be able to go.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I say. “When did this happen?”

  “At the beginning of the summer.”

  Oh. That’s like, six months ago. “I hope your dad finds a job soon.”

  “Thanks.” He smiles.

  And while the conversation feels like a real conversation, it also doesn’t. I’ve known Eric for years and yet I didn’t know about his dad. And even now when he’s sharing with me, the conversation is stilted. If it wasn’t for the fact that we are walking, I think we’d both be falling asleep. Like, even standing up.

  Two more blocks.

  “So are you excited for the concert?” I know I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel, but help me out here, Eric.

  “Sure. And it would be cool if our group got the spotlight.”

  Long pause.

  Extra-long pause.

  If I fell down, would that make this less painful? At least it would break up the silence.

  “What’s your favorite—”

  “Can I ask you something—”

  We’re both talking at once, which is truly laughable since there was so much silence we could have been filling. It’s like when my mom gets mad when Jed, Sadie, and I fight over the same spot on the couch, as though we didn’t have two other couches, plus multiple other places we can hang out.

  “Sorry, you go first.” There’s a little laugh embedded in Eric’s comment.

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.”

  “It wasn’t really anything. I just wanted to know if you had a favorite carol.”

  Eric exhales, and for a moment I wonder if he thought I was asking a different question. Maybe something more personal? Should I have been? My mind is going a mile a minute and I almost miss what he’s saying.

  “I guess ‘Frosty the Snowman’ is fun. You know, standard.”

  “Oh, good one,” I lie.

  “There they are!” Eric says, pointing at Matthew and Renee on the corner.

  “Wait,” I say, stopping him with my outstretched arm. “What were you going to ask? When I interrupted you. And then you said I should go first. But you didn’t …”

  “It was nothing.” He shakes his head, his eyes on Matthew and Renee. They are laughing and hopping up and down. It’s going to be killer cold to stand outside. I really should have brought warmer clothes. Once again, I chose my outfit based on my bag: brown leather boots, pleated skirt, and fuzzy sweater. But it’s my comfort clothing, and I really wanted to feel good today.

  “Are you sure?” I ask
. What if he wanted to ask me …

  I can’t even think it.

  What if he wanted to ask me out on a date?

  My heart races.

  “I’m sure.” Eric’s long strides eat up the pavement between us and them, and the conversation is dropped.

  * * *

  It’s cold.

  Really cold.

  Like we probably shouldn’t be out here.

  We sing through “Silent Night,” but it’s hard to keep my voice even when I’m trying desperately not to shiver. When people walk by, they barely slow down. We’re lucky if they smile. I can’t blame them. If I had somewhere warmer to be, I’d be in a rush to get there, too.

  “Let’s save that one for warmer days,” Renee says. “I feel like it just makes me colder.”

  “‘Let It Go’?” Eric asks.

  “Are you suggesting a song or telling me what to do?” Renee snorts, and then we’re all laughing. And I don’t understand why I can’t be relaxed like Renee. Eric and I walked all that way and I didn’t say anything funny, anything … anything. What’s your favorite carol? I want to facepalm.

  “Let’s do it!” Matthew says, resuming his jumps. “Come on!”

  So we do. And there’s something funny about singing the song on such a cold day. We move around as we sing, and start cracking up. Maybe it’s the laughter, but more people stop and watch us. An older man starts to join in, his rich baritone a fantastic complement to Matthew’s.

  “Can we do that again?” I ask when we reach the last note. And there’s no disagreement. We run through it another time, and then move on to “Hanukkah, O Hanukkah,” because it’s also fast-paced. And then we sing “Blue Christmas,” twice.

  But when we stop, it’s colder than ever.

  “I can’t feel my toes,” Renee says, and while I’m pretty sure that mine are moving as I wiggle them, I’m not positive. They feel like thick pieces of ice in my socks.

  “How about we take a break and head into the Donut Hole for some hot chocolate and snacks?” Matthew suggests.

  “Oh god, yes,” I groan.

  “I’m in!” Renee chirps.