We had the perfect plan. Alex was about to age out of the system, and then set up a little apartment for the three of us. He’d already started looking right before things fell apart last January.
Goes to show what wishful thinking gets you.
I was a lifer—raised in foster care since birth. Alex and Tyra came into my life when I was about fifteen. They’d both just gotten out of juvy and ended up in the state group home I was occupying.
Alex was serving for grand theft auto. He’d been driving a friend’s car in Jersey City when they got pulled over for speeding and his buddy bailed. Turned out the car was boosted so Alex got a stint in juvy. It was the only thing on his spotless record, and he liked to boast about it to make himself look tough so no one would mess with him.
Tyra actually was the true rebel of the group. She’d stolen her last foster parents’ identities and was methodically ruining their credit and life because Foster Drunks, as she called them, used to knock her around when they had too much to drink—which was apparently all the time.
But she got her revenge.
She used her mad hacker skills to reroute all their mortgage, car and phone payments to a non-profit children’s organization! She says it was pretty epic until their car got repo-ed and Tyra was caught.
Either way, I was grateful for the strange circumstances that brought us together. Before them I didn’t have any friends. I’d learned there wasn’t really a point when you’re in the foster system. But Tyra and Alex weren’t the type to take no for an answer and for some reason decided they wanted me to join their delinquent misfits club. And now that I had, there was no going back.
For two and a half years we shared a duplex with sixteen other foster kids. We even went to the same school. It was the longest any of us had ever been in one place, and it was bliss.
As soon as I met Alex, I fell for him. I told myself not to of course. Being a lifer, I’d trained myself never to let anyone in. History taught me that only led to disappointment or abuse.
But with Alex, I never stood a chance.
He was a heartbreaker. Flawless Puerto Rican skin and impossibly long lashes hiding dark eyes the color of molten chocolate cake. They sparkled whenever he was up to something mischievous. And his smile, it cracked my heart in two.
I built up a wall the instant I saw him, but Alex was sneaky. He slowly worked his way in and before I knew it, he was calling me his Rae of sunshine. The first time I kissed him, it was all over.
I subconsciously put my fingers to my lips and felt my heart wrench.
“You’re doing it again,” Tyra says.
“What?” I ask pulling out my shared ear bud.
“You’re crying.”
I quickly wipe my face. “Oh.”
“Come on. Can you just admit you still love him and that these letters are what you’ve been waiting for?”
“No, Ty. He left me! He left both of us, remember?”
“He didn’t have a choice, Rae and you know it. When they place you, they place you. We don’t get to decide if we wanna go or not.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make any sense. He was almost eighteen. No one wants to foster a seventeen-year-old with a record for six months. Besides, that was almost a year ago. Alex is already eighteen.” I pause, the knife in my heart twisting again. “Actually, he’s on his way to nineteen by now. He’d forgotten about us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do!” I say harshly. I soften my voice, reminding myself he left Tyra too. “Don’t you think if he gave a crap, he’d have come back for us?”
“Listen, I know he hurt you, boo. But you’re being harsh. You don’t know what could’ve happened to him.”
I roll my eyes and put my ear bud back in and look out the window indicating I don’t want to talk about it. Tears for Fears is wailing about ‘how to rule the world’ before I feel the ear bud being yanked back from a disgruntled Tyra.
I sigh deeply and try to occupy my mind with the gloomy scenery of Midtown, but it’s no use. I fight the lump in my throat. Tyra’s right, I had no idea what situation Alex was thrown into.
We’d all had our fair share of horrible foster experiences and it wasn’t fair to judge Alex not knowing what he was dealing with. I was only acting angry because I felt betrayed and that was a feeling I wasn’t used to.
Not when it came to Alex, anyway.
I’d kissed him goodnight eleven months ago, and then never saw him again. Radio silence. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
This was precisely why I never let anyone in. The hurt was too much. I was used to being alone. I could plan for that. But this helpless, hopeful feeling that kept creeping into my chest from the stupid mystery letters was unbearable.
Chapter 3
As I watch the gray city flash by I relive the last few days in my mind.
The letters started arriving last week, on December 14th. So far, I’d received seven of them; all from different people, at different places and times. They were all addressed to me, Desirae Hartley. Under my name, printed in neat handwriting was a number.
They’d been sent in descending order: 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. Each contained a verse from the Christmas song, ‘12 Days of Christmas’ along with some cryptic note or trinket.
When I showed Tyra the first letter I thought her head was going to explode. She loved the idea of a Christmas mystery. She felt like we were living a real-life Dan Brown novel or something. She squealed like a ten-year-old every time I showed her a new one.
That part I actually looked forward to.
A happy Tyra was contagious.
The first letter showed up on my twin bunk bed a week ago.
It read, ‘On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me: 12 drummers drumming.’ Inside, a green guitar pick with a silver lightning bolt was taped to the spiral-bound notebook page.
As soon as I saw it my mind flashed back to the underground Weezer concert the three of us had snuck off to. It was in an abandoned church basement in the middle of August. We’d slinked out after the Warden was asleep and used Alex’s fake ID to grab a six-pack of Genesee Light.
It was heaven.
We danced all night and sang the words to every song on the Blue Album. I remembered being sticky with sweat as we giggled the entire way home. That’s when Alex first told me he loved me.
Tyra had been trying to pull me onto the roof at the duplex so we could sneak back in the window. Alex gave me a leg up so I could reach her hand, but I was tipsy and misjudged. I crashed to the ground taking Alex with me. We lay in a tangled mess on the grass and he pulled me back down on top of him when I tried to get up.
I still remember gazing at the reflection of the streetlight in his dark eyes as he pushed my brunette waves away from my face.
‘My Rae a sunshine. God I’m in love with you,’ he said right before kissing me.
He tasted salty and sweet.
Tyra was on the roof pretending to gag on her finger.
Chapter 4
The second letter was in my locker at school the following day.
It said, ‘On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: 11 pipers piping.’ Inside was almost a full pack of Virginia Slims. There were three cigarettes missing.
Nostalgia flooded me as I thought back to the night the three of us sat on the roof when I decided I needed to learn how to smoke cigarettes.
We’d just found out one of our foster siblings had been placed. Whenever that happened, the three of us would go a little crazy, dreading it might happen to us next. We’d go sit on the roof and count the days until Alex aged out, daydreaming about our new life of freedom.
That night was particularly hard because the kid that was placed was Doreen. She was only seven and still unspoiled as far as foster kids go. I shared a room with her for two years and she became like a little sister to me. But she already had a sister; a sweet special-needs girl, named Aileen that didn’t get placed with her. The girls had never
been separated before so watching them wrestle Doreen away from Aileen shattered our nerves.
Tyra swiped a pack a Slims from the Warden thinking it would help take the edge off.
It didn’t.
Alex ended up holding my hair back while I puked all night from the nicotine. That was the last time I ever smoked.
Chapter 5
The third letter arrived in our mailbox.
Thank God Tyra was the one who found it! The Warden was indifferent, not kind. She would’ve thought we were playing a prank and started pad locking the front door again.
The third note said, ‘On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: 10 lords a leaping.’ That’s it.
I’d chastised myself for feeling disappointed when I realized there was nothing inside. Even Tyra was let down. She triple-checked the mailbox to see if something might have fallen out. But the only thing the letter contained were a few short lyrics from my favorite Lorde song. ‘You’re my best friend, and we’re dancing in a world alone. We’re all alone. We’re all alone.’
Tyra instantly grinned when she read the lyrics. “New Year’s!” she exclaimed, smiling so wide it made her lip ring click against her teeth.
Even now my eyes still misted at the memory.
It had been a great night. The three of us danced to that song like lunatics on Times Square last New Year’s Eve, claiming it as our anthem.
It was one of the last fun outings we had before we lost Alex.
Tyra had swiped a bottle of champagne from somewhere. I could still remember the way it tasted when Alex kissed me under the mistletoe hung from a street sign on Broadway and 42nd as the ball dropped—bubbly and sweet. Like it would last forever.
Tyra had found some frat boy to make out with. Afterward, her sticky fingers swiped his wallet, which bought us breakfast at City Diner and a cab ride home.
Chapter 6
The fourth letter came from Aileen.
She just walked up and handed it to me.
Aileen was deaf and refused to learn sign language. She’d never spoken the whole time I’d known her, but that didn’t stop me and Tyra from hounding her about the mystery letter. But she just gave us a shy smile and trotted back downstairs to watch TV.
By now, we knew the drill. This was letter number four. It had the number 9 scrawled under my name on the front. Inside we found another line from the ‘12 Days of Christmas.’
‘On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: 9 ladies dancing.’
There was a newspaper clipping inside from April 18th, 2014.
‘NYC House of Movement Performs at local High School.’
I’d dropped the clipping as a tidal wave of memories slammed over me.
“What the . . . ?” Tyra bent down in confusion and snatched up the clipping.
Tyra had been obsessed with hip-hop.
She was on the dance team at our high school and somehow knew a guy who knew a guy from the House of Movement. Something to do with juvy—although she never gave us the full details.
Anyway, she’s been seeing this guy Pauly for a bit and convinced him to get the Movement to do some Boys and Girls Club program at our high school.
It was all Tyra talked about for three months straight. Alex and I of course went to the performance to support her and were blown away.
Tyra could shake it!
I knew she had swagger, but that girl’s booty operated like a coin laundry, gyrating to an uncontrollable rhythm on its own. We’d never seen her dance before, and after the performance we told her she had to pursue it.
She had a gift!
Of course, she shooed away our whoops and praise with embarrassment.
Still riding the performance high, she wanted to go out for a post-dance celebration with the troop, leaving me and Alex backstage in the empty theater.
“What do ya wanna do now?” I asked him.
He just gave me a wily smile and pulled me through a door marked ‘Staff Only.’
Before I knew it, we were in a private theater box. It was dark and peaceful when the lights clicked off. Alex pulled me into his lap and kissed me. He ran his hands under my shirt and unhooked my bra making me shiver.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered against my neck.
“No,” I breathed.
We whispered and laughed thinking we’d end up getting caught, but that was part of the thrill of it.
That night, in a dark dance theater, I gave every last bit of myself to Alex.
Seeing the newspaper clipping sent me into a tailspin. I felt my cheeks flush and my shaky limbs couldn’t seem to hold me upright any longer.
“Rae, what’s wrong? Girl, you look like you’re having a stroke. You’re freaking me out. Say something.”
“I hate him, Ty. I . . .” But I couldn’t form words anymore. I dissolved into a spasming, sobbing mess on the bottom bunk.
“What does this mean?” Tyra asked when I finally calmed down. My head was in her lap and she stroked my brown curls. “Why would he send you a clipping of my dance performance?”
“It meant something to us,” I hiccupped.
“Like what?”
“It was our first time.”
“Doing what?”
My cheeks heated. Was she really gonna make me spell it out?
I swallowed hard. “Ya know . . . it.”
“Ew!” She howled. “Are you freaking serious? You got it on to my dance routine? Damn, I’m good!” She laughed. “So, I made you want to move mountains, huh?”
I sat up, pushing her away without any real conviction. “Shut up, Ty! It wasn’t during your dance routine. It was after.”
“But still, it’s gonna go on record that I inspired you.” She laughed.
“It wasn’t like that. It was . . . special.” I choked out.
Tyra dropped her joking and seized my shoulders, staring straight into my watery green eyes. “You’re gonna be okay, boo. You’re a strong chick. We both are and we’ve been through way worse than some stupid boy drama.”
She was right, of course. But that still didn’t stop me from crying myself to sleep.
Chapter 7
The fifth letter arrived at school.
A kid in my economics class dropped it on my desk as he shuffled by. I sprang to my feet and attacked him in his seat. “Hey! Where’d you get this? Who gave it to you?”
“Chill, freak. A guy paid me twenty bucks to deliver it.”
“Who? Who paid you? What did he look like?”
“I dunno. Just some guy.”
“Listen, it’s really important. Someone is harassing me with these letters. I really need to know who it is.”
“Yo, you mean like a stalker? That’s sick! I was watching this episode of Criminal Minds last week; you ever watch that show? Anyways, this guy was—”
“Do you know the person who gave you this note or not?” I yelled growing impatient.
“Nah. I never seen him before. He was an older dude though, like in his forties.”
My heart sank. So it wasn’t Alex?
I’d been so convinced it was him.
Who else would know all the little details of my life?
What the heck was going on?
Why was someone messing with me?
I waited until lunch to find Tyra and open letter number five.
‘On the 8th day of Christmas my true love sent to me: 8 maids a milking.’
Inside was a ticket stub to the Hayden Planetarium. The three of us had gone there on a school field trip for Astronomy.
“What does this have to do with eight maids a milking?” Tyra asked. “Wait . . . do I wanna know?”
“Shut up, Ty.”
She held her hands up. “Hey, just checking.”
“Our group had to do that report on the Milky Way, remember?”
“Oh yeah. But why’s it special?”
“Alex gave me this while we were there,” I said pulling a long, black, silk cord from aroun
d my neck. Attached to the end was a flattened penny with an imprint of Saturn stamped on it, and the words, Haden Planetarium.
“Okay, and . . .” Tyra pressed.
I blushed. “He said it was our promise ring.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Ya know . . . the rings of Saturn . . .”
“Okay, dorks. What did he promise you?”
“He promised we’d be together. Once he aged out.”
“How come I didn’t get one?” Tyra scowled.
I gave her a knowing look.
“Oooh, I see. It was one of those, I promise to keep it in my pants, you’re the only one for me, blah-tee-blah type promise rings.”
“Lot a good it did,” I grumbled.
I filled her in on how the note was delivered by a classmate via some random forty-year-old guy.
She looked perplexed. “Hey, why don’t we give up this Christmas riddle for a bit? I think it’s starting to get a little too deep. Plus you look like crap, Rae. Have you been sleeping?”
“Not much,” I admitted.
“Well at least this is the last week of school before Christmas break. Buck up and help me come up with a way to pass these exams.”
Chapter 8
Tyra convinced me to ditch last period the next day. We’d finished our exams and only had P.E. left so I figured why not? We took the bus to Lincoln Plaza and rode the escalator down to the theater lobby. Al was working and gave us a warm smile when we approached. “How’s my favorite girls?”
“Yeah, yeah, Al. We know you say that to all the ladies,” Tyra quipped.
“Nah, I save all my sugar for you two.” Then he cupped his hand over his mouth and stage-whispered. “Just don’t tell Donna that.”
Donna was the theater manager, who hired, then married Al, even though he was fifteen years her junior. Tyra knew Al from juvy, a foster home, or something. I’d lost track, but she’d introduced Alex and me to him two years ago and we hadn’t paid for a movie since.
'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set Page 47