Clementine for Christmas

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  So Josie stood as tall as she could in her cowboy boots and spoke with all the confidence she could muster. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll be in charge of the Festival.”

  “Morning, sweetie,” Oscar’s mom said, pausing to give him a kiss on the top of his head as she headed for the coffeemaker on the counter.

  “Hi, Mom,” Oscar said. He had been telling her since he was nine that he was too old for kissing. But it made his mom happy and since it was just the two of them in the kitchen, Oscar decided to let it go. He had gotten a bowl out of the cabinet and was standing in front of the pantry trying to decide what kind of cereal to have. The choices were pretty grim because his mom was really into healthy food. He could have puffed corn that turned into soggy paper-like balls after three seconds in milk, or whole grain cereal that tasted like wood pellets. With a sigh, Oscar selected the puffed corn.

  “Tonight we’re going to—oh, I can’t believe this,” his mom said, her voice going from cheerful to irritated in less than two seconds. “Your father forgot to turn the coffeemaker on last night. Again.” His mom was unable to start her day without at least two cups of coffee.

  “This is going to make me late,” she grumbled as she stabbed at the machine’s on button. She was already dressed for work as the manager of Green Apple Grocery, the town supermarket, and Oscar knew how important it was that she arrive on time. “Your father promised he’d make sure the timer was set.”

  Oscar quietly got out the milk and said nothing. His parents often argued over things like a forgotten timer, and it always got worse around this time of year. Something about the holidays put everyone in his house on edge, which was why Oscar was the one kid in town who didn’t like Christmas. At all.

  Oscar poured the cereal into his bowl. Maybe his dad would run late and not get to the kitchen until his mom had left. But a moment later, his dad strode in, adjusting his tie, ready for his day of work at Frost Ridge Bank, where he did something that involved sitting behind a desk. Oscar never really understood when his dad explained his job—something about finance and analysis—and he secretly suspected no one else did, either.

  “Good morning,” his dad said, all cheery, the way he often was first thing in the morning.

  “Morning, Dad,” Oscar said.

  “You forgot to set the timer on the coffeemaker,” Oscar’s mom said.

  “Sorry,” his dad said, in a tone that did not sound sorry at all. Or cheery. His shoulders sagged as he went over to the counter.

  “It’s on now,” Oscar’s mom said sharply.

  Oscar was pouring the milk over his cereal, but somehow he misjudged things, and suddenly milk flooded out of his bowl and pooled on the polished wooden table.

  “Watch it,” Oscar’s dad snapped.

  “I—” Oscar began.

  “Don’t yell at Oscar,” his mother said, in a voice that sounded a lot like yelling. “Accidents happen.”

  “He’s twelve, and that’s too old for an accident with milk,” his father said. “Stop making excuses for him.”

  “I’m not making excuses,” his mother huffed. “And you need to stop crushing his self-esteem.”

  “What does self-esteem have to do with milk?” his father asked, throwing out his arms as though overwhelmed by how absurd his mother was being.

  It was always at this point, when the arm throwing happened, that his mother’s face got red and her voice rose an octave.

  “Don’t act like everything I say is stupid!” she snarled.

  And this was the point when Oscar needed to escape. He shoved his cereal bowl into the sink and nearly ran out of the room. Not that his parents noticed—they were too busy shouting at each other. Oscar’s chest burned the way it always did when they fought, and he sped out of the house.

  As soon as he got outside, he realized he’d forgotten his hat and gloves. The frigid morning air bit into his hands, but he shoved them deep in his pockets and jogged to school, his stomach growling and his fingers clenching into tight fists.

  “HEY, O,” OSCAR’S friend Dev called.

  “Hey,” Oscar said as he dodged through the crowded hallway at school. He and Dev had played soccer together in the fall, and Dev was the kind of guy who was always friendly to everyone. Probably because his parents weren’t fighting with each other all the time and most likely sat around the breakfast table talking instead of screaming. Dev would never get what things were like in Oscar’s house. Oscar tried to smile.

  “Did you do the English homework?” Dev asked, falling in step next to Oscar.

  With a sinking feeling in his gut, Oscar thought of the homework set out on the hall dresser so he wouldn’t forget it. And still sitting on the dresser because he’d been in such a rush to get out of the house. But Dev didn’t need to know about that.

  Oscar managed a nonchalant shrug. “No, I didn’t get to it,” he said.

  Dev looked concerned. “Didn’t you get detention last week for missing too much homework?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Oscar said.

  “Whatever you say,” Dev said, smiling and cheerful again. “Are you going out for basketball?” The Frost Ridge Middle School had a pretty good team, and Oscar was eager for tryouts next week. Last year he’d scored more baskets than anyone else on the fifth grade team, and he was hoping to continue that streak.

  “Yeah, definitely,” he said.

  “Cool, me too,” Dev said as they walked into English class.

  “You don’t belong on the team.” It was Frank Harrison looking right at Oscar. Frank had scored the second-highest number of baskets last year. Everyone knew that Frank had been held back when he was little, so he was a year older—and a year bigger and a year stronger—than all the other boys in sixth grade, which was a big advantage when it came to sports. And when it came to being a total jerk.

  Oscar felt his fingers slowly curl into fists. “You’re just jealous of my skills,” he said to Frank, stepping closer to the taller boy. It had been deeply satisfying to beat Frank on the court last year, and he was already looking forward to doing it again.

  “Everyone, sit down, please,” their English teacher, Ms. Keller, said as the bell rang.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw Dev shoot him a look as he slipped into his seat behind perfect Gabby Chavez. Oscar knew he should sit, too, but somehow he couldn’t make his legs move.

  “No one wants you on the team,” Frank said, his words smooth like velvet, as if he’d been planning to say them for a while. “Because you’re a ball hog who cares more about his own stats than a win for the team.”

  Oscar’s fist smashed into Frank’s face before he even realized what he was doing. Pain shot down his arm and his fist burned. But not as hot as the burning in his chest.

  Frank shouted, then shoved Oscar so hard, he hit the wall behind him, his head smacking against the doorjamb. Oscar ignored the throbbing in his skull as he lunged at Frank, taking the bigger boy down in a heap. Kids were shrieking and Ms. Keller was yelling, but Oscar couldn’t stop. He cocked his fist back and was about to hit Frank again when someone grabbed him from behind.

  “Dude, stop,” Dev said, his voice a bit shaky as he pulled Oscar away from Frank.

  Frank was up and Ms. Keller had his arm. “To the principal, now,” she said, eyes blazing.

  Oscar sagged in Dev’s grip, the fight seeping out of him and leaving behind a stomach-curdling sense of shame.

  “OSCAR, THIS IS a disappointment,” Ms. Antonoff said, her hands folded carefully on her big principal’s desk.

  Oscar shrugged, but his heart was beating a little faster than normal. This was not his first visit to the principal’s office, with its motivational posters and comfortable chairs that tried hard to cover up the fact that the room was a punishment factory. And Oscar was not excited to hear what his punishment was going to be this time.

  “The last time we spoke, I believe you promised to control that temper of yours and start getting your work do
ne, is that correct?” the principal asked in the no-nonsense voice they probably taught her in principal school.

  Oscar shrugged again.

  “Answer me with the spoken word, Mr. Madison,” Ms. Antonoff said in a quiet but deadly voice that made Oscar sit up straight. They probably taught that in principal school, too.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Oscar said. Maybe being polite could get him out of this. Too bad he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  “And you have broken that promise,” Ms. Antonoff stated.

  Oscar slumped down again. No amount of politeness was going to help him now. “Yeah, sorry,” he said.

  “While I appreciate your sincere and heartfelt regret,” the principal said, reaching into her desk and taking out a folder, “I’m afraid this infraction will require more from you.”

  Great. Now Oscar had given his parents something else to argue about.

  “You’ll be suspended for one day,” Ms. Antonoff said.

  “But—” Oscar sputtered.

  Ms. Antonoff held up a hand. “As I was saying, you’ll be suspended, as is the consequence for striking another student. But you’ll also need to make reparations.”

  Oscar had no idea what reparations were, but he could tell he was not going to like them. At all.

  “You’ll do volunteer work. There’s a wonderful program at the pediatric ward of the hospital,” Ms. Antonoff said, handing him an information sheet about the program. “You’ll go three times a week and every Saturday afternoon for the month of December to help them put on performances and visit with the sick children.”

  There was no way.

  “Sorry, I can’t. I’m trying out for basketball, and there’s practice every day after school,” Oscar said. “And I don’t even like little kids.”

  “First of all, you lost the privilege of trying out for basketball when you chose to use violence in school,” Ms. Antonoff said. “And second of all, if you’re going to act like a little kid, you may as well spend time with them.”

  Oscar couldn’t believe it. He’d been looking forward to basketball for ages. Now, not only would he lose it, he would be stuck at the hospital, surrounded by sick, miserable kids for an entire month.

  “I’m not doing it,” he said, his voice louder than he had intended.

  But Ms. Antonoff just raised one eyebrow. “You don’t actually have a choice in the matter,” she said crisply. “And I suspect in the end you’ll enjoy it.”

  She held Oscar’s gaze, and the look in her eyes sent a clear message: The whistle had blown and Oscar had lost.

  “The volunteers sing and put on skits for the children, and there’s a festival on Christmas Eve that your family can attend,” Ms. Antonoff went on cheerfully, knowing that she had won. “It’s really very special.”

  It sounded a lot more like a complete nightmare.

  “I don’t even like Christmas,” Oscar muttered dismally.

  Ms. Antonoff stood up. “Well, then a whole world of wonder awaits you, Mr. Madison. Off you go, to discover the magic of helping people and of Christmas.”

  Oscar trudged toward the door of her office like a prisoner being forced off a plank. Though right now shark-infested waters sounded pretty good compared to what he was facing.

  As he sank down in a chair in the outside office across from a glaring Frank, Oscar decided it was official. He hated Christmas. Nothing could ever change his mind about that.

  “I can’t believe we have another essay for English,” Aisha said to Gabby. School had just ended, and the hallway was steamy and crowded as they slowly headed for the big doors at the front of the school, surrounded by Jasmine Davis, Isabelle Romanov, and Becky Hollis, their usual group of friends. “I wanted to go shopping this weekend, not get stuck in front of the computer writing about The Outsiders.”

  “I know,” Gabby agreed. Truthfully, she didn’t mind the essay. She’d really enjoyed the book, and writing about it would be kind of fun. But she’d never say that to Aisha, who made it clear that shopping trumped homework at all times.

  “I bet you’ll ace it, though,” Aisha said, grinning at Gabby, a knowing glint in her eye.

  “Totally,” Jasmine agreed.

  Gabby smiled and shrugged like it didn’t matter that much one way or the other. After all, she cared about getting people to like her, not getting them to think she was a star student.

  “I should come over to your house to work on it,” Aisha said. “It would be more fun that way. And my parents promised me a new cell phone if I get my grades up.”

  Gabby hadn’t had anyone over to her house since her family had moved to Frost Ridge the summer after fourth grade, and she planned to keep it that way. “I usually study at the library,” she said, the lie easy and natural.

  “Well, one day I’m finding you there,” Aisha said as they finally pushed through the door and out into the frosty afternoon. Gabby would worry about that if it happened, but it wasn’t likely. Gabby made it a point to know the habits of her friends, and Aisha was a lot more likely to spend her free time shopping, not studying.

  As they walked down the steps of the school, their boots crunching on the salt the janitors poured on all the stairways and paths outside of school, Gabby felt a tug on her arm.

  “I love your skirt,” Isabelle said. “Where’d you get it?”

  Gabby grinned. “Mulligans,” she said.

  Isabelle’s brows flew up. “Seriously?”

  Mulligans was a discount store in the next town over. Most of Gabby’s crowd shopped at the local mall, but that wasn’t in the Chavez family budget. Not that Gabby minded—when she was younger, Gabby had adored playing dress-up with the fanciest gowns and accessories she could find. Now she loved adding a bit of flair to the clothes she bought—a few sequins here or a ribbon there.

  “I can’t believe you found something that pretty at Mulligans,” Aisha said, a brow raised as she inspected Gabby’s black wool skirt. It was dotted with delicate diamond rhinestone flowers and had a silver satin ribbon sewn along the hem.

  “Yeah,” Gabby said. “It was on a rack with these awful polyester plaid skirts, just waiting for me to come rescue it.”

  “Let’s go shopping together sometime,” Isabelle said hopefully. She’d been pushing to spend more time with Gabby, acting like they were just on the cusp of BFF-hood. But Gabby didn’t do best friends, not after Jenny. Sure, Isabelle seemed nice, but Jenny had, too, at least until she’d turned on Gabby, shredding Gabby’s life apart at the seams. If Jenny could do it, so could Isabelle. Or Aisha, or Jasmine, or any of the other girls. So Gabby stuck with group socializing and casual get-togethers where no one got too close.

  She gave Isabelle one of her brilliant smiles. “Maybe a bunch of us could go sometime,” she said.

  “Hey, Gabby, where were you yesterday?” Becky asked, jostling in to get closer to Gabby. “We missed you at yearbook.”

  And just like that, it was time to lie again. Gabby had missed the yearbook meeting for a medical appointment, but there was no way she was telling Becky or anyone else about that. “I had to babysit my little brothers,” she said smoothly.

  Yes, Gabby was good at school, being creative with clothes, and getting people to like her, but her best skill? Lying. She’d been doing it for the past year and four months, ever since the day her family had come to Frost Ridge, and never once had she been caught. The girls who called themselves her friends thought they knew her, but all they knew was what Gabby allowed them to see, and not a single thing more.

  Because if they ever saw behind Gabby’s facade and discovered the secret she was hiding, they would hate her, every last one of them.

  “Remember I’m taking Clementine to the vet for her yearly checkup this afternoon,” Josie’s mom said. She took a final sip of her coffee, pushed herself out of her seat in their cozy breakfast nook, and smoothed down her post office uniform. Sometimes her mom worked half days during the week, and today was one of them.

  “That�
��s right,” Josie said, standing up and going to rinse out her cereal bowl. “It’s a good day for it, actually. It means I can get to the hospital early this afternoon so I can start signing people up for the Festival.”

  “Well, good luck,” her mom said. “And have I mentioned that I think you should sign yourself up and let the world hear that gorgeous voice of yours?” She had—many times.

  “I’ll be too busy,” Josie said. Her standard excuse normally wouldn’t work on her mom, but until she had several cups of coffee, she wasn’t fully herself. The two of them headed for the front hall and began bundling up to face the frigid morning.

  Only a few rays of sunlight slid over the mountain peaks, and Josie knew it was well below freezing. “You’re lucky to stay inside,” she told Clementine, who was sitting by the door as though ready to see them off.

  “She sure is,” her mom agreed.

  Josie opened the front door, and an icy wind whipped in. “See you tonight,” she said to both her mom and Clementine, then headed off to school, her mind already racing ahead to the time she would spend at the hospital.

  “LOOKING GOOD,” ED said when Josie strode out of the costume closet that afternoon. She was wearing a velour Santa suit with big black boots and a hat covered in small silver bells that jingled as she walked.

  “Thanks,” Josie said, straightening her hat. “I’m so glad it’s time for the holiday costumes.”

  “Me too,” Jade said with a grin. She and Ed were dressed as elves.

  “I have something to ask you guys,” Josie said, smoothing her red coat. “I’m kind of organizing the Christmas Festival this year, and I was hoping maybe you guys would do a skit.”

  She was not very good at this, but Jade and Ed were both nodding.

  “For sure,” Jade said. “Maybe we can do a riff on The Nutcracker so we can dance.”

  Ed’s nose wrinkled. “Or something else that doesn’t involve dancing,” he said. Then he grinned at Josie. “But we’re in for sure.”