Clementine for Christmas

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  Gabby pulled on a curl. “I shouldn’t tell you it’s going to get better,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know what it’s like for you. But I do know what it’s like when everything’s awful and that’s really hard.” She looked at Oscar. “I get why you kept Clementine. I’m not saying it was okay, but I get it.”

  Something unclenched inside Oscar at her words, and he grinned. “Does this mean I pass your test?”

  Gabby laughed. “Yes, good news for you, you’re not a complete jerk.”

  “I’m so glad it’s official,” Oscar said, rolling his eyes.

  “And it means I think you can work things out with Josie,” Gabby went on. She’d taken off her plush hat and was folding it up absently as she spoke.

  At that, Oscar stopped smiling. “She really hates me,” he said. Thinking about it made him feel like he had last winter on Sutter Hill when he’d fallen off his sled and gotten the wind knocked out of him.

  But now Gabby was the one rolling her eyes. “Josie likes you,” she said. “That’s why she’s acting like she hates you.”

  Oscar’s brows scrunched together. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Of course it does,” Gabby said impatiently, like Oscar was the unreasonable one. “It means you hurt her feelings. If she really didn’t care, she wouldn’t make such a big point of showing you.”

  That made even less sense.

  “Okay, forget it, I can see that part’s too complicated,” Gabby said. “The point is, I have an idea for how you can make it up to her.”

  Oscar still didn’t believe it was true, but if it was … “I’m listening,” he said.

  “It starts with a flashy apology,” Gabby said. Oscar had no idea what that would even be. “You’re going to have to figure that out because it has to be true to you.”

  That didn’t exactly help, but before he could ask, Gabby went on. “The big thing is that you’re going to persuade her to sing a solo in the show.”

  “But she doesn’t want to,” Oscar pointed out. Pressuring Josie to sing seemed like a good way to make her hate him more, not less.

  “I think she does want to, though,” Gabby said. “She’s just scared.”

  “If she’s scared, maybe it’s not a good idea,” Oscar pointed out. He was starting to think Gabby’s great plan was a complete bust.

  Gabby glared at him. “You can’t let fear make your choices,” she said. Then she drew in a breath, like she had just thought about what she’d said. “I guess we all do that, but we shouldn’t, and in this case, Josie really shouldn’t. She’s an amazing singer, and it’s time she stood in the spotlight.”

  “Maybe,” Oscar said. It was actually a pretty good point. And Oscar had a feeling Gabby was right—somewhere, hidden away, Josie really did want to find the courage to sing. “But what makes you think I’m the one to persuade her?”

  “Here’s the thing,” Gabby said in a way that told Oscar he was not going to like “the thing” at all. “You’ve been a selfish friend to Josie.”

  Oscar opened his mouth to argue, but Gabby held up a hand.

  “Can you honestly deny it?” she asked. “You don’t hang out with her at school, you let her do all the work at the hospital, and if that wasn’t enough, you stole her dog. I get why you did it, but still, dog theft is low on the list of good friend qualities.”

  “How do you know I don’t hang out with her at school?” Oscar asked. “You’re too busy being popular to notice what anyone else is doing.”

  “Do you sit with her at lunch?” Gabby asked, eyes flashing again. “Or walk with her in the halls or talk to her by her locker?”

  Oscar wilted. “No,” he said. “But I bet you don’t, either.” That was pretty much the last of his fight because he knew Gabby was right, on all counts. He had been a pretty crummy friend to Josie. And when he thought about how she’d listened to him about his parents, the way she understood what he was saying—and the way she’d thought to bring him muffins—he felt lower than the crud on the bottom of his sneakers.

  “You’re right. I haven’t been hanging out with Josie in school,” Gabby retorted. “But that’s changing, starting on Monday.” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “We’re not talking about me right now, anyway, we’re talking about you. And you know what I’m saying is true.”

  “Yeah,” he said begrudgingly.

  Gabby smiled and unfolded the hat. “So if you want to show Josie that you’re thinking about something besides yourself for a change, make a big apology and tell her she needs to get over her stage fright and sing that solo already.”

  Oscar still wasn’t sure about any of this. “What’s a big apology?” he asked, figuring that was the more important thing. If Josie didn’t accept his apology, she wouldn’t listen to anything he said about performing. “Like say it loudly or writing it down?”

  Gabby rolled her eyes. “No, it’s just both saying and showing you’re sorry.”

  That did not clarify things at all.

  “Start by thinking of who Josie is, what she cares about, what she loves,” Gabby said. “And then figure out a way to use that to show her how sorry you are.”

  Oscar considered this. His dad once brought his mom chocolates to say he was sorry for missing their anniversary—maybe Oscar could get Josie food. After all, everyone liked to eat. But then he realized that wasn’t exactly what Gabby had said: She’d said to think of Josie and what she liked, not just something anyone would like. Which might have been what went wrong with his dad’s apology because now Oscar remembered that his mom had been on a no-sugar diet that month and had thrown the chocolate out.

  Josie might reject his apology, too, but he could try. He owed her that. “I’ll think about it,” he said to Gabby.

  “Okay, but think fast,” Gabby said. “Because once she forgives you, you’re going to have to work quickly to persuade her to sing that solo.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as that,” Oscar said. Honestly, it seemed pretty impossible.

  “You’re right,” Gabby agreed, putting on the hat. “That’s why we’re going to put on a bit of pressure. I’m going to make sure we don’t find a final act for the show.”

  “That’s devious,” Oscar said.

  Gabby grinned. “It’s being a good friend,” she said. “You know how much she wants this Festival to happen. And for it to be the best ever.”

  “I guess you have it all figured out,” Oscar said. He was kind of in awe. Gabby was the real secret agent around here.

  Gabby stood up. “I do,” she said. “And now it’s up to you to pull it off.”

  On Monday afternoon, Josie was walking down the hall after the final bell rang when she saw that Gabby was waiting at her locker.

  Josie was nearly as shocked as she had been at lunch, when Gabby had found her in the library and dragged her to the cafeteria. Josie wasn’t sure who was more stunned, her or Gabby’s friends. Josie hadn’t said much, but it had been fun to sit with people while she ate a sandwich she’d brought from home. And Gabby’s friends were nice, though they seemed surprised when Gabby voiced some of her stronger opinions. Maybe they didn’t know her quite as well as Josie did, though. That thought made Josie smile as she opened up her locker and began piling books into her backpack.

  “We have to get to the hospital and find that last act for the Festival,” Josie said, zipping up the bag. “We only have”—she glanced at the clock on the wall—“an hour and seventeen minutes.”

  “Right,” Gabby said, not sounding as urgent as she should have. “Maybe we can …”

  Her words trailed off because there was a commotion farther down the hall. Kids who had been pushing to leave were now standing still, looking at something, or someone, coming down the hall. Some were laughing, and Josie saw two girls sneak out cell phones to take pictures. Whatever it was, it was big.

  And then the crowd parted.

  “Wait, that can’t be,” Gabby said, her hands coming u
p to her face.

  But it was. Walking toward them was Oscar decked out in a full Grinch costume. He had on the green Grinch boots with their pointed toes, the fuzzy Grinch outfit, Grinchy gloves, and the Santa hat that the Grinch wears at the end of the book.

  Josie’s coat and scarf slipped out of her hands.

  “Just for the record, this does not change my anti-Christmas stance,” Oscar said as he walked up to them. “But the Grinch is your favorite, right?”

  He’d remembered. Josie could only nod, still speechless.

  “Okay, good, because it would mess things up if I put on the wrong costume,” Oscar said.

  Josie was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Oscar, boy of the single nod, was wearing a costume in school when he threw out his arms with flourish. “This is how I’m apologizing,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Clementine. I should have.”

  That seemed to be the end of his speech. It hadn’t been much, but then again, the costume kind of said it all.

  Josie glanced at Gabby. Her cheeks were pink with the effort of fighting back a fit of laughter.

  Then she looked back at Oscar. He stood in front of her waiting for her response, not caring about all the kids staring and laughing and taking pictures of him in his ridiculous costume.

  “Okay,” Josie said, starting to grin. “I forgive you.”

  “Good,” Oscar said. “Because these Grinch shoes are really killing me.”

  IT WASN’T THAT hard to get Oscar back into the Grinch costume when they reached the hospital, though Josie didn’t understand why he and Gabby were taking so long getting ready when they had less than an hour to find a last act. She’d even insisted they skip getting Clementine today so that they’d have enough time to ask people.

  “Okay, I’m thinking we should go to the blood lab,” Josie said when they were finally set. She and Gabby were both dressed as Whos, the townspeople from The Grinch. “Maybe someone there is willing to be in the Festival.”

  Gabby and Oscar exchanged a look.

  “Actually, we should go to Rosie’s room first,” Oscar said. “While you guys were changing in the closet, I, uh, saw Ed and Jade who said Rosie was asking for you.”

  Josie was torn, but if Rosie needed her … “Okay,” she said. “But then we really have to find that last act.”

  She couldn’t understand why they were so calm when it felt like the entire fate of the Festival depended on finding a last performer. But she headed out into the hall and down to Rosie’s room.

  “How are you feeling today?” Josie asked as they walked in.

  “Okay,” Rosie said. The bottom half of her body was encased in a cast, but her eyes sparkled.

  “The infection’s been treated, so Rosie will be able to go home in a few days,” her mom said.

  “Great,” Gabby said with a grin.

  “Can we sing a Christmas carol for you?” Josie asked.

  “Mommy likes the one about angels who stand up high,” Rosie said, looking at Oscar for some reason.

  “It’s my mom’s favorite, too,” Josie said. She loved the peaceful look her mom got whenever she heard it.

  “I don’t know that one,” Oscar said.

  “Me neither,” Gabby said, though Josie thought she remembered Gabby singing it with her once before.

  Josie was about to suggest they choose something else, but then she saw Rosie looking proudly at her mom. Rosie wanted this to make her mom happy, and that made Josie’s heart squeeze up in her chest. And so she opened her mouth and sang, her body vibrant and tingly as her voice soared.

  “That was amazing,” Rosie’s mom said when Josie had finished, looking at her with an expression almost like wonder.

  “Thanks,” Josie said, clearing her throat as her cheeks warmed. “Um, we should go now, but we’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

  “And at the festivus,” Rosie said.

  Josie stopped. “You mean the Festival? That’s not for a few more days.”

  “But you’re singing the angel song there, too, right?” Rosie asked.

  “Actually, there are a lot of great acts,” Josie fumbled. Was this something Gabby and Oscar had cooked up? “Funny skits and nurses singing together and everything. It’s going to be great. And I can sing you the angel song right here.”

  But the corners of Rosie’s mouth turned down. “You’re not singing the angel song in the festivus?”

  Josie was speechless, but Gabby stepped in. “We’re still figuring it all out,” she said as she guided Josie out, Oscar on their heels.

  “You guys, I am not—” Josie began, but Oscar interrupted.

  “I wanted Rosie to tell you, but it’s what we think, too,” he said, gesturing to Gabby, like they had suddenly become some kind of awful team united against her. “You should do this.”

  “There’s no way,” Josie said. But she knew she didn’t sound quite as firm as she’d intended.

  “Josie, your voice is gorgeous, and it’s meant to be shared,” Gabby said.

  “I’m doing the sing-along,” Josie said stubbornly, moving out of the way as an orderly pushed a tray of medication boxes down the hall. “I can’t do both.”

  “Gabby’s going to take over the sibling act,” Oscar said. “And I’ll do the sing-along. With a costume and everything.”

  Josie nearly fell over at that. “But you hate Christmas,” she said.

  “I’ll do it, anyway,” Oscar said.

  Which meant he’d do it for her so she could sing a solo.

  “We don’t really need ten acts,” she said slowly.

  “But it would be better if we had ten,” Gabby said gently. It was exactly what Josie had said, and she knew it was true. She also knew it was unlikely they’d find another act this late. Which meant it was up to her to make the Festival as awesome as they wanted it to be.

  She was wavering.

  “You can bring Clementine up onstage with you,” Oscar added. “That way you won’t be alone.”

  “And we’ll be cheering for you from the sidelines,” Gabby added. That was what Josie’s dad had said, all those years ago when Josie was about to climb onto the stage for the sing-along at her very first Festival. He said he’d be cheering for her. And she knew that if she sang that solo now, her dad would be cheering for her again, thrilled to see her up on that stage once more.

  Josie could see Ms. D’Amato heading down the hall toward them.

  She looked at Oscar, who had worn a Grinch costume to school, and Gabby, who was outspoken and willing to help, even after what had happened to her at her last school. They weren’t hiding, and maybe it was time for Josie to stop hiding, too—to be the girl her friends and her dad had always believed her to be.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll try.”

  At that, Gabby and Oscar whooped and high-fived. They had become a team, Josie realized, but they were her team.

  And then Gabby got serious. “Our first dress rehearsal is tomorrow, four o’clock sharp.”

  “If there’s a dress rehearsal, does that mean we have a show list ready to go?” Ms. D’Amato asked with a big smile.

  “Yes,” Gabby said, pulling a piece of paper out of a pocket in her costume. “And here it is.” She smiled what Josie had come to see was her real smile—not dazzling but big, a little bit goofy, and utterly beautiful.

  “Wait, don’t we have to add that I’m singing?” Josie asked as Gabby passed the paper over to Ms. D’Amato.

  Gabby’s smile got even bigger. “I’ve had you on that list for days,” she said.

  “SO THE FESTIVAL’S all set,” Josie’s mom said. The two of them were sitting on the sofa in front of their Christmas tree, the room lit only by the glowing white lights wrapped around its branches. “And now you just have the two dress rehearsals, right?”

  “Yeah, though each act has been finding time to practice individually. When we have the dress rehearsal, it’s just seeing how it all fits together,” Josie sa
id, reaching for a gingerbread man. After dinner, she and her mom had baked a batch of Christmas cookies, some of which they were going to give their neighbors, and the rest they were eating now.

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it,” her mom said, leaning back with a happy sigh.

  “Will you braid my hair for it?” Josie asked.

  “Of course,” her mom said, giving her a squeeze.

  “Thanks,” Josie said. “And guess what?” She’d planned to surprise her mom, but now she realized she wanted to tell her beforehand, when it was just the two of them. “I’m going to sing a solo.”

  Josie’s mom put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed tight. “You’re so brave,” she said.

  Josie leaned against her mom, wanting to tell her that the thought of performing in front of such a big group was utterly terrifying but just the tiniest bit exciting, too. She wanted to tell her mom that she’d never have found the courage to do it if it weren’t for her new friends. And she wanted to tell her mom that knowing she would be there, watching, meant everything to Josie.

  But the word brave stopped her. Because not so long ago Josie’s mom had wanted to be brave. She had wanted to stand on her own two feet and make a new home for herself and for Josie. And Josie had said no.

  Josie looked down at Clementine, curled at their feet, fast asleep. She had needed her dog so badly when her dad died. But five years had passed, and now Josie had new friends and a whole new life. A life where she was brave enough to sing in front of hundreds of people—just Josie, no mask, no costume. And maybe Clementine, who had always had a knack for knowing where she was most needed, had already realized this.

  Which meant it was time for Josie to be brave here, too.

  Josie took a deep, shaky breath. “Mom, do you think that apartment is still available?”

  “Gabby, is it true you dropped yearbook?” Becky asked, a little breathless as though she had run to their table in the cafeteria.

  “Yeah,” Gabby said, stirring her bowl of minestrone soup, today’s lunch special. She had already dumped in two packages of crackers.

  “It’s not going to be the same without you,” Becky said, deflating like a balloon with a small pinprick.