“It was kind of boring,” Gabby pointed out. “The eighth graders have all the good jobs.”
“I guess,” Becky said, the corners of her mouth turning down a bit. “Maybe I should drop it, too.”
“If you like it, you should keep doing it,” Gabby said. She sipped a spoonful of soup. It was bland but warm, which was always good on an icy-cold day. Snow was falling outside the big windows, and the cars in the parking lot were slowly getting covered, turning into soft white drifts.
“So what are you doing after school these days, Gabby?” Aisha asked. “Because you don’t seem to be around.”
Gabby had known that sooner or later this question would come, and she was prepared. She wasn’t ready to share all her secrets just yet, but it was time for this one to come out in the open. “I’m volunteering at the hospital,” she said. “In the pediatric ward.”
It felt good to say it out loud. She noticed Becky wrinkle her nose and exchange a glance with Aisha, but it didn’t bother Gabby the way it would have a few weeks ago.
“Aren’t you worried about catching something?” Aisha asked.
Gabby laughed. “No,” she said. “They don’t let volunteers into rooms with contagious diseases.”
“What do you do there?” Isabelle asked.
“I work with Josie and Oscar putting on skits and singing for the kids.”
“Wait, Oscar Madison?” Becky asked. “Isn’t he like a juvenile delinquent?”
Gabby sat up straight. “No, he’s not. I mean, he got in that one fight, but now he hangs out in the hospital cheering up sick kids, which I think is pretty awesome.”
Becky shrank down in her seat.
“It was great when he showed up in a Grinch costume,” Jasmine said, standing up. “This sandwich is gross.” She’d gotten turkey—something Gabby had learned long ago was a mistake. “I need to go get something edible. Anyone want anything?”
“No, thanks,” Gabby said, smiling at her. She liked Jasmine. Isabelle, too. Gabby had spent so much time getting people to like her that she hadn’t even considered who she herself liked. And who she might want to hang out with instead of who she should hang out with. But she was starting to figure it out now. And there was one person she was very sure about, a person who was walking into the cafeteria.
“Josie, over here!” Gabby called, waving and not caring who saw.
Josie waved, nearly dropping her lunch bag.
“Who brings a lunch bag in sixth grade?” Aisha muttered to Becky.
“People who want decent food,” Gabby snapped.
“Hey,” Josie said, coming up in her baggy wool sweater and jeans that didn’t fit quite right.
Aisha and Becky shared another look, and Gabby stood up. “This table is kind of crowded,” she said to Josie. “Let’s go sit over there.” The only empty tables left were near the garbage, the ones where people with zero social status sat.
“Okay,” Josie said, perfectly happy to sit anywhere with a friend.
Which was exactly how Gabby felt, too. She gathered up her stuff and led the way.
“I guess your friends don’t want me at their table anymore,” Josie said. She was opening her bag and not looking at Gabby.
“They’re not my friends,” Gabby said. “Not all of them, anyway. And I’m the one who needed a change of scenery.”
“Are you sure?” Josie asked, now looking right at Gabby. Gabby knew that Josie was asking about more than the table. She was asking if Gabby was really okay giving up being the girl everyone liked. If Gabby was finally willing to step from behind the facade she’d worked for a year and a half to build and polish to a golden perfection. If Gabby was finally ready to be herself.
“Yeah,” Gabby said with a grin. “I’m sure.”
“Oscar’s here!” Henry shouted when Oscar walked into the auditorium for the final dress rehearsal. Henry and the other kids were there to practice the sing-along. They were gathered on one side of the huge stage with its red velvet curtains and endless rows of plush green seats. It really was just like a fancy theater in New York, or at least how Oscar imagined one of those theaters would be.
“Hi, Oscar!” Freddy yelled. He was with his older brother, who was going to be in the sibling act, and he saluted Oscar as though he was a five-star general.
“Santa’s Secret Agent!” Rosie cheered from where she rested on a stretcher, even though today Oscar was decked out in the elf costume he would wear for the sing-along.
“Oscar, come on,” Alison called. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
Oscar grinned and waved. “Hey, everybody,” he said.
He was about to walk over to join them when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder. He turned and was shocked to see Ms. Antonoff.
“Mr. Madison,” the principal said. “I see you’ve got quite the fan club.”
Oscar felt his cheeks warm, but he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m on the hospital’s outreach committee, and we’ve been invited to observe your rehearsal,” she said. Families of performers were invited, too, to give everyone a sense of performing in front of an audience. Oscar was glad he hadn’t realized that audience would include his principal. Though he probably should have guessed she had some tie to the hospital since she’d sent him there in the first place. It was weird to think how angry he’d been about it back then, when now he knew he was going to keep coming in, even though his reparations had ended.
“A few weeks ago I recall you telling me you didn’t like little kids,” she said, the sides of her mouth turning up. “But it certainly seems as though they like you.”
“Yeah, they’re okay,” Oscar said. Though as he glanced up at the stage and saw Freddy’s mischievous smile, Henry’s round face, and Rosie’s eyes shining despite her huge cast, he knew they were more than just okay. They were awesome.
“There were some who weren’t so sure of my choice to send you here,” Ms. Antonoff went on, her eyes on the kids now, too. “These kids are vulnerable, and they need volunteers who come with big hearts, open hearts. Volunteers who can put their needs second, and the needs of the patients first.”
It took Oscar a second to realize she was saying that people thought he was selfish.
“Most sixth graders think of themselves first,” Ms. Antonoff said. “They don’t want to work hard, and they care more about getting the most baskets themselves instead of passing the ball to get a win for the team.”
Oscar winced at that. Apparently he was known for being a ball hog. Though he couldn’t really argue with it—he had been a ball hog. And as Gabby had already pointed out, he’d been pretty selfish, too.
Ms. Antonoff turned her gaze back to him. “It seems to me, Mr. Madison, that you have learned to share the ball,” she said. “And to work hard so that sick kids can have a Festival for the holidays. It seems to me that you were just the right person for this job.”
Oscar shrugged, his face growing hot as the principal smiled knowingly at him. Maybe it was true that he liked helping the kids, that being part of a team with Josie and Gabby and Clementine was actually better than thinking about himself all the time. But he wasn’t going to just come out and admit that the principal had been right all those weeks ago when she told him he was going to learn a few things. Plus, not everything had changed.
“I still don’t like Christmas,” he told her.
She laughed, then looked up at the activity on the stage. “There’s still a bit of time for that to change, too,” she told him.
THE REHEARSAL HAD started. Gabby was off to the side of the auditorium with the sibling group, helping them practice. Most of the other kids were with their parents while Josie and Ms. D’Amato helped Dr. Scott and her husband figure out the staging for their act. It was moments like this, when he was alone with nothing to do, that Oscar couldn’t ignore the emptiness that carved out his insides. Things his father said, stuff his mother had done, the pile of boxes in the hall that got bigger every day. It th
reatened to engulf him. He needed to stay with people, to keep busy. Otherwise, it would swallow him whole.
So he headed to the backstage dressing room to see if Ed and Jade were around. The room was empty, but as he turned to leave he saw Josie and Clementine.
“Can I talk to you?” Josie asked, tugging on the sleeve of her dress.
“Sure,” Oscar said. The bells on the elf cap he wore for the sing-along rang as he walked toward her. “What’s up?”
“I want to give you your Christmas present,” Josie said.
This was terrible. Oscar hadn’t even thought to get Christmas presents for anyone since he was anti-Christmas and all, but now here he was, the selfish friend again.
“You don’t have to give me anything,” he said.
“I know,” Josie said. “And I know you didn’t get me anything, and that’s fine. But this is special, and I need you to have it. And if you accept it, it will help me, too.”
Now Oscar was intrigued. “Okay,” he said.
“Five years ago, I got the best Christmas present of my life,” Josie said. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and Oscar suddenly realized there were tears in her eyes. “And now I want to give that gift to you. I want you to have Clementine.”
Oscar almost choked; she couldn’t be serious.
“My mom and I are moving to an apartment that doesn’t allow pets,” Josie went on. “We need to find a new home for Clementine. My grandparents are too old to take care of her, and so I want you to have her.”
“Why me?” Oscar asked. He still couldn’t believe what Josie was saying.
Josie reached down and patted Clementine for a moment. Then she looked up at Oscar. “Because you need her now,” she said. “And she knew that. It just took me a little to catch on.”
As though she understood Josie’s words, Clementine took a step closer to Oscar and leaned against his legs. Oscar knelt down and hugged her close. She was solid and warm, and if he had Clementine with him, he would never be alone. She would be there in the dark of the night when he couldn’t sleep, she would stand at his side when his dad left, and she would make his mom smile. Oscar did need that, all of that, so very badly. “Are you sure?” he asked Josie, his voice slightly muffled in Clementine’s fur.
“I’m positive,” Josie said. She was smiling. “Merry Christmas, Oscar.”
THE PARENTS AND backstage helpers were corralling the kids to do a run-through of the sing-along, and Oscar walked over to his mark on the stage, waiting for everyone to be ready. He still couldn’t believe that Josie had given him Clementine, but then, as he glanced out at the small group gathered to watch the rehearsal, he saw something even more shocking: Sitting together in the front row were his parents. They were right next to each other, smiling proudly at him. Looking at them you’d never imagine their screaming fights and the fact that they could barely stand being in the same room together. Because right now they looked happy to be sitting next to each other, watching their son about to perform.
Maybe, Oscar thought, his family wasn’t completely destroyed. Maybe it was just changing. Yes, it was a change he hated, a change that would be hard. But his parents would still be his parents, and they would still be there for him, even if they were no longer all in the same home.
The whole thing ripped at Oscar, but he had Josie and Gabby, he had Clementine, and he had his parents, too. It would be hard, but, for the first time, Oscar believed that at some point it would also be okay.
He was no Josie, but when the sing-along began, Oscar got the kids settled and ready, then started the carol and sang his guts out. After all, they were up there to celebrate what was now Oscar’s favorite holiday of all.
The skeleton-Christmas skit had just ended and the lights dimmed. While the X-ray technicians left the stage, Josie made her way to her spot. Her knees were weak as she walked, but she was not alone: Clementine leaned gently against her, reassuring and warm. Clementine was Oscar’s dog now, of course. But Josie knew Clementine would always be there, just a few blocks away, whenever Josie needed a furry cuddle. Or a whole lot of courage, like she did right now as she looked out at the auditorium full of what seemed like a thousand people, all sitting and waiting for the next act. Which was her.
Josie’s breath was coming in shallow bursts, but she reminded herself to focus on the people who mattered most, the people she wanted to make proud in the next few minutes, under the lights that were about to blaze down bright upon her. She gazed at the place where she had once stood next to her dad lying in a stretcher, beaming as he squeezed her hand before she came up to the stage. He was proud of her already, she could feel it, just like she could feel him here in this room with her. Then there were Gabby and Oscar, who stood just offstage, the two friends who had believed in her before she believed in herself. The friends who saw who Josie was, with and without a costume, and liked what they saw. There in the third row, video camera in hand, was her mom. And next to her were Josie’s grandparents, ready to cheer even if Josie just stood there silent. Then there were the kids—Freddy, Melanie, Henry, Alison, and Rosie—waiting to hear her angel song. This was the group Josie sang for. And the other few hundred people? They just happened to be in the room.
The spotlight flickered on, bathing Josie in its golden glow. She took a breath to fill her lungs. Her knees steadied and her hands stilled. She nodded to Jade, who was accompanying her on the piano, and listened as she played the opening chords. The sea of faces looked up at Josie, waiting as the pause came, the moment when it was time, finally, for Josie to sing. So Josie opened her mouth and began, the song pouring out of her, each note radiant and true as Josie sang with her heart and soul.
The applause was thunderous after Josie was done. Her mom was the first to stand, but the mayor was right behind her, and soon the entire auditorium was on its feet, giving Josie a standing ovation.
Josie bowed, then remembered she was in a dress and gave a clumsy curtsy. Clementine barked happily, and Josie knew exactly what the dog was saying.
“Merry Christmas!” Josie cried, her voice carrying over the sound of the applause. “Merry Christmas to you all!”
Daphne Benedis-Grab grew up in a small town in Upstate New York, where Christmas was always her favorite holiday. She is the author of The Angel Tree and Alive and Well in Prague, New York. She has worked a variety of jobs, including building houses for Habitat for Humanity in Georgia, organizing an after-school tutoring program in San Francisco, and teaching ESL in China. She now lives in New York City with her husband, two kids, and a cat, and still looks forward to celebrating Christmas every year. Learn more at www.daphnebg.com.
Copyright © 2015 by Daphne Benedis-Grab
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015004644
First edition, September 2015
Cover Photography © Istockphoto: Background (Focusphotoart), Front Gift Tag (Kickimages); Shutterstock, Inc.: Puppy Body (Jagodka), Flaps Red Paper (Slava17); Thinkstock: Puppy Face (Jstaley401)
Cover design by Mary Claire Cruz
e-ISBN 978-0-545-83954-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now
known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Clementine for Christmas Page 15