The Angel Tree

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  Max was wet and his heart was pumping but he was grinning as he headed up the steps with his friends. A snowball fight was definitely a good start to the day.

  “You throw like a wimp,” Alec said cheerfully as they walked into the heated hallways of Pine River Middle School. Speckled gray rugs had been set out over the floors to absorb the slush tracked in and the faded cream-colored walls were papered with posters for various clubs, meetings, and games.

  “At least I don’t throw like your mama,” Max replied. Though it wasn’t one of his strongest comebacks, Alec snickered and high-fived Max. “Your mama” jokes were a favorite form of communication for the team.

  The warning bell rang and Max headed for his locker, greeting people as he went. As he walked past Joe Thompson’s locker, Max could see Joe glaring at him. Joe had been new at the start of the year, a pale, skinny kid with shaggy brown hair who walked with his head down.

  On the second day of school Max had stopped by Joe’s locker to ask him if he’d want to join the flag football team. Joe hadn’t seemed too into the idea, but Max had figured he was probably shy. When Max had made a few jokes, trying to loosen him up, Joe had hauled off and punched him. Max had been so shocked he hadn’t even thought to punch Joe back. He had just stood there, blood dripping from his nose, the gasps of his classmates in his ears as the new kid stalked off.

  Of course he hadn’t told any of the teachers who asked about his bloody face what had happened. Max was not a snitch. But he did regret that he had just stood there, not even giving Joe a shove before he walked away.

  In the end, though, Joe’s obnoxious attitude and the fact that he had punched Max for no reason had combined to make him the most hated kid at Pine River. Not that he even seemed to notice. He kept to himself, ignoring everyone. The only time he ever reacted was when Max passed. Then he acted like Max was some kind of monster.

  “Hey, Max, I’m desperate,” said Tom, another friend from the flag football team, as he pushed through the crowded hall and threw an arm across Max’s shoulders. “You’re my only hope, Obi-Wan.”

  Max always appreciated a reference to Star Wars. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Ms. Rehfisch is giving us a quiz and I didn’t have time to study,” Tom said as they turned the corner and arrived at Max’s locker. “If I flunk it, my parents will ground me and then I’ll miss the game on Sunday.” Every Sunday there was a pickup ice hockey game on the river that neither Max nor Tom ever missed. “You’ve got to do something to stop that quiz.”

  Tom needed a prank pulled off. Of course. That was the kind of “help” people came to Max for, the one thing he was known for. Which used to make Max puff with pride but somehow lately was making him feel trapped in a box, the edges pressing tight against him. “You’ve come to the right place, young Jedi,” he said, shrugging it off. “I’m on it.”

  “Excellent,” Tom said, slapping him on the back and heading down the hall.

  Max watched him for a moment, then began shoving stuff in his locker as the bell rang. He slammed the metal door shut with a clank and jogged down the hall, his thoughts drifting back to the quiet dark of the morning and the wish that he knew could never come true.

  He’s such a jerk.”

  The words were whispered but Joe heard them as he walked past, just like he was supposed to. Everyone at Pine River Middle School hated him and they wanted him to know it. And he did, he knew it. But the thing was, he didn’t care. Joe had not come to Pine River to make friends. He had come here because he had to. It was his duty.

  Though the steamy hallway of Pine River Middle School was packed with students ready to head home after the last bell, a path seemed to open up for Joe as he headed to his locker. It was kind of funny because he was probably the one person at the school who didn’t have anywhere better to go. Everyone else had clubs, plans with friends, lessons, or even just a home to go to. But Joe was camped out with his uncle Leon, in a small one-bedroom apartment. The first night, Leon had unfurled a sleeping bag for Joe and told him to “park it wherever it fits.” It fit next to the dining room table, so that was where Joe stretched out each night, the wood floor hard under the knobs of his spine.

  He turned a corner, almost bumping into Anya and Lucy, who were both in sixth grade too. Joe didn’t know too many people at the school, but a small blind girl with a chocolate Lab as a Seeing Eye dog were hard to miss. Anya glared at Joe as though he had purposefully tried to trip Lucy, then swept past with a curl of her lip.

  Back home Joe hadn’t been one of the popular kids, but he’d had a group of friends to sit with at lunch and hang around with after school. And everyone else had pretty much just left him alone. Being hated like this was new. But in those first awful weeks at Pine River Middle School, Joe’s insides were twisted so tight he could barely get through the school day. The effort it would have taken to make friends was as far out of reach as the sun. When the fight with Max happened, Joe’s fate as school outcast had been sealed. Joe couldn’t let it get to him though. If kids in a small town that was not his real home didn’t like him, well, he could live with that. He had bigger things to worry about.

  Joe stopped at his locker toward the end of the main hall and began to spin through the combination. Then, behind him, he heard the one voice at Pine River Middle School that made him react.

  “It was amazing, I’m telling you,” Max drawled, his voice carrying down the hall. Joe snuck a look out of the corner of his eye. The three girls with Max were hanging on his every word.

  Joe’s stomach burned as Max went past, boasting about some prank he had pulled off in his English class. Everyone thought Max’s jokes were funny — everyone but Joe that is.

  Then Max was gone, swallowed up in the crowd that was headed out into the frigid afternoon. And the burning in Joe’s gut cooled.

  “Have a good night.”

  Joe looked up, surprised. It was Camilla, the girl with the locker next to him. She had skin the color of the milky coffee his mom drank and her hair hung down in hundreds of braids, each ending in a pink, silver, or gold bead. They clinked together musically whenever Camilla tossed her head, though even Joe knew that the real music Camilla made was with the violin. Everyone loved hearing her play at assemblies and town events. Camilla was the one person at school who was friendly to Joe, smiling and sometimes, like today, actually saying something to him. Something nice.

  Joe nodded as Camilla headed down the hall. Sure he could have tried to start a conversation but it just felt like too little too late. His status was set, so why try to change it?

  He finished packing up his book bag, then hoisted it over one shoulder and shut his locker. He looked out the window at the end of the hall and saw that it was snowing yet again. He pulled on his coat — meant for the mild winters of Virginia, it barely helped, and he froze every time he went outside — and then hesitated. It was tempting to stay warm just a little bit longer. So he headed to the one place he was actually welcome at Pine River Middle School: the library.

  Back home in Virginia, Joe had been on the cross-country team, played in the chess club, and always worked up a complicated project for the science fair with his friend Louis. But the thing he loved most was reading, probably because his mom made such a big thing about their weekly trips to the library and the time they spent reading together after dinner every night. Here in Pine River there was no cross-country and Joe knew he wasn’t welcome in any clubs, not that he’d want to join anyway. So he spent most of his free time reading, making him a regular at the big, welcoming school library.

  The halls had pretty much emptied out as Joe headed toward the east wing of the building, coughing a bit as he went. He stopped for a drink at the fountain just outside the library, to soothe his throat, then walked through into the library.

  The large room was lined with row after row of tall wooden bookcases. In the center were matching wooden worktables and the big circulation desk run by Ms. Marwich, the librarian. Ms. Ma
rwich seemed ancient to Joe, with her old-fashioned clothes and the white hair she wore tucked up in a bun. Still, she had more energy than almost anyone Joe knew, and she was always happy to see any student who walked through the doors. Even the most hated student in the school: Joe himself.

  Today she was checking books back in and she looked up, her blue eyes crinkling with pleasure when Joe came over. “Joe, so nice to see you,” she said. “How are you?”

  Joe cleared his throat. “Okay.”

  “Here, let me get something for you,” she said, pushing aside framed pictures of her wedding day and her cat, Tango, and rummaging through the papers and books that covered her desk. After a moment she came up with a cough drop. “That cough just isn’t leaving you alone, is it?”

  “Thanks,” Joe said, unwrapping the cherry lozenge and putting it in his mouth. It was a lot more soothing than the cold water had been.

  “Some friends of mine own the town drugstore,” Ms. Marwich said. “A lovely older couple — the VonWolfs. They’re mostly retired but everyone who works there is helpful. You should stop by on your way home and stock up on some of these.” She passed him a few more lozenges, which Joe slipped into his pocket.

  “Okay,” Joe said, though he really didn’t have extra money to spare on cough drops. It wasn’t like he was really sick — it was just a cough.

  “Tell the VonWolfs Rona sent you,” Ms. Marwich said with a wink. “They give special deals to my friends.”

  It was kind of pathetic but this was the first time anyone in Pine River had called Joe a friend.

  “So what are your plans for Christmas?” Ms. Marwich asked.

  Joe stiffened. Christmas was something he most definitely didn’t want to think about. But Ms. Marwich was looking at him and he had to say something so he pushed the cough drop to the side of his mouth. “Not much.”

  Ms. Marwich’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Christmas is such a special time of year. Your family must be planning something.” Ms. Marwich, like everyone else in Pine River, had no idea about Joe’s family situation and Joe aimed to keep it that way.

  “I’m sure we’ll do something,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s not a big deal.” It was such a lie that the words were hard to force out.

  And clearly Ms. Marwich could see he wasn’t telling the truth because her brow furrowed even more. “Christmas is a big deal,” she said gently.

  At that Joe could only shrug and look away.

  “It sounds like you could use the Angel Tree,” Ms. Marwich said after a moment.

  Joe’s eyebrow scrunched. “What?” he asked.

  Ms. Marwich explained how it worked, and Joe had to admit it was kind of impressive the way the people in Pine River helped each other out. But it didn’t all fit.

  “What if a kid who lives in an apartment building asks for a pony?” Joe asked.

  Ms. Marwich pressed her fingertips together. “Hm, that happened a few years back,” she said. “People get creative. Let’s see, I think that girl got to go to a riding camp in the summer.”

  “Oh, that makes sense,” Joe said.

  “It seems to me that maybe you have a wish or two that might need granting,” Ms. Marwich went on. “You should give the Angel Tree a try.”

  “I don’t think so,” Joe said, shaking his head. The tree was there for the people who called Pine River home, not for someone like him who was hated by everyone. But even as he thought that, he could feel his wish growing, filling up his whole stomach with how much he wanted it.

  Ms. Marwich looked at him for a moment. “That tree is there for everyone,” she said softly. “And the wishes on it are about people needing some help and other people being able to offer that help. It’s simple, really, and it’s the spirit of the holiday. Christmas has been my favorite holiday since I was a girl — and even more so now that Pine River has the Angel Tree.”

  It was his mother’s favorite holiday too. “I’m not sure,” Joe said. It seemed silly to even hope someone would choose to help him.

  “Well, I am,” Ms. Marwich said firmly, handing him a pen and paper. “You don’t have to tell me or anyone else what you’re wishing for. Just write it up and run along. The Angel Tree is waiting.”

  Joe shrugged. He didn’t want to argue, even though it would probably come to nothing. He scribbled his wish on the paper and waved to Ms. Marwich as he headed out.

  It was a short but frigid walk into town. The snow had stopped, but wind gusted through his thin coat, spreading icy fingers over his skin. He stopped at Tasty Market to pick up a can of soup for dinner and then headed to the center of Pine River. The old brick buildings flanking the square were covered in fresh snow and lit up with strings of Christmas lights. Snow was piled in mounds across the square and the Angel Tree towered above, the deep green boughs sparkling with tiny colored lights and covered with white paper wishes.

  Joe’s footsteps were muffled by the snow as he waded over. The tree was huge. He gazed up at it, the branches rustling in the wind, the top of the tree seeming to touch the stars that were just beginning to appear in the satiny-blue sky. There was something magical about it, he thought as he tied on his wish, something that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, the wish he so desperately longed for really would come true.

  Hey, Cami!”

  Cami turned, brushing a few stray braids out of her face, and saw her friend Oliver, his sax case tucked under one arm, loping to catch up to her. The final bell had just rung, meaning it was Cami’s favorite time of day: orchestra rehearsal.

  “What’s up?” Cami asked, shifting her backpack so she could hold her violin case more carefully.

  “Not much,” Oliver said, falling in step with her. “Have you started practicing your solo for the Christmas Gala?”

  Cami couldn’t help feeling a glow at the mention of the solo. She had been thrilled when the conductor, Mr. Carmichael, had given it to her last week. But her grandmother was always telling her to be humble, so she tried to look modest as she nodded. “Yeah. It’s hard but hopefully I’ll be ready for the Gala.”

  Oliver laughed. “You probably have the whole thing down already.”

  Cami shrugged. It was true that she’d spent the entire weekend memorizing and perfecting the piece, a section of Handel’s Messiah. If the Gala was that very night, she’d probably be ready.

  They were nearing the orchestra room and the sounds of middle school musicians beginning to warm up echoed through the hall. Cami was eager to join them, but just as they got to the door she noticed her friend Max walking down the hall, probably heading to detention. The pranks he pulled were funny but Cami wasn’t sure they were worth all the time he spent paying for them.

  “I’ll see you in a second,” she said to Oliver, then waved at Max, who grinned when he saw her.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, shoving his shaggy black hair out of his face. Max always needed a haircut.

  “Good,” she said. “How are you?” She tried to sound casual but Max knew her well.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  Cami did worry, though. Sure Max was a popular middle schooler now, but she remembered when he was the kid who had to repeat second grade, the one everyone made jokes about. She’d watched after him like a hawk, not letting anyone get away with teasing him until everyone realized it was a lot more fun to laugh with Max and his pranks, than at him. And now, with the fire at his house a few weeks ago, and the endless detentions, Cami couldn’t help feeling concerned for her friend again.

  “I know the school is collecting more stuff for your family but is there anything else you guys need?” she asked. “Bigger stuff like furniture? Because my grandmother was saying she could help organize another collection through our church.”

  Max shook his head. “The apartment is too small for any more furniture.”

  Cami hated seeing the way the corners of his mouth turned down and she searched for a subject that might c
heer him up.

  “Do you have a wish for the Angel Tree?” she asked. Everyone in town loved talking about their beloved Christmas tradition.

  Max glanced down the hall where some boys were tossing a football. Cami figured they had about two more minutes before a teacher caught them. “Not really,” he said. “How about you?”

  Cami nodded. “I want some rosin, a new chin rest, and a couple of new music books.” Nothing on her list was all that expensive but Cami and her grandmother always had to watch their spending, and Cami knew the Angel Tree gifts helped a lot.

  “Getting ready for Carnagale Hall,” Max said, his usual cheer back in his voice.

  “Carnegie,” Cami corrected, then grinned. “Hopefully one of these days.” She didn’t have to be humble with Max — he knew how much she loved her violin, how exhilarating it was to have music flowing through her fingertips, how hard she worked. “Speaking of which, I should get to rehearsal.”

  “See you later,” Max said, heading toward the guys playing catch.

  “Don’t get in trouble,” Cami called, but of course it was too late and Max was already jumping up to grab a pass.

  Cami shook her head as she walked into the orchestra room, but then the sounds and smells pulled her in and soon Cami was lost in the familiar joy of making music.

  The sky was darkening as Cami walked up the front path to the little house she had shared with her grandmother ever since her parents had died in a car crash when she was a baby. Cami had no memories of her parents but her grandmother had more than made up for that, attending every concert Cami ever played in, spending hours planning the perfect birthday party every year, and having a knack for knowing exactly when Cami needed a good pep talk or special pancake breakfast to lift her spirits.

  As she slid the key into the front door, Cami had the delicious wrung-out feeling that only came after a good long session with her violin. She especially loved the Christmas pieces the band was preparing for the Pine River Christmas Gala and of course, her solo. She was humming one of the tunes as she closed the front door, but then she heard her grandmother talking on the phone in the kitchen. Her grandmother spoke to her daughter, Cami’s aunt Aisha, at least once a week and it sounded like they were going over the menu for Christmas dinner. So Cami quietly took off her boots — sound traveled well in their tiny home — and was heading up the stairs when she heard her name.