Don’t Hate the Holidays (Falling at Fredricks High #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

ELI

Jack and I meet at the fountain in Seeley Park, as we have almost every morning since the start of school—but I don’t have to hide the eagerness in my step anymore. I don’t have to hide anything, anymore, because this tangible sun drop is officially my boyfriend.

I walk right over to Jack and slide my hand into his, heart pumping faster at the contact and letting me temporarily ignore the fact that his hand is like an ice cube.

“Good morning, Eli.”

He texted me the same thing when he woke up. It’s so much better hearing it in person. “Morning.”

There’s a playful gleam in his blue eyes. “We both slept in a little today. Want to keep going with the laziness, and walk our route?”

“Laziness would be skipping it altogether. Which I might do, if we weren’t meeting Seth and Fred after. Let’s start with a walk.”

We match our steps and start on our normal path.

Orange, brown, and yellow leaves are strewn across the grass, doubled from yesterday after last night’s heavy rain.

At this rate, the trees will be devoid of all their foliage by the end of the month.

I honestly thought the leaves would be gone by now with how quickly they were falling earlier this month: that this year, fall was giving up to winter early.

I’m glad I was wrong, and autumn has stayed in full sway. As it should, in late November.

Jack is always humming with energy. Sometimes, like now, there’s a telling angle in the position of his lips that gives away his need to share something, as if he can’t hold it in. I give it about ten seconds for Jack to launch into whatever is on his mind. He only makes me wait nine.

“Thanksgiving is coming up. Do you watch the parade? We can probably get Mom to let us watch whatever we want, but she loves having the parade in the background while she cooks.”

I squeeze Jack’s frozen fingers. “I’ve watched clips of the parade before. But why does my opinion on what you watch matter?”

Jack stops and frowns at me. “You know you’re coming, don’t you?”

“I didn’t want to assume. I know it’s a Thursday, but it’s a holiday, so I thought it might be different.”

Jack arches one brow. “This is one of those times I get to call you an idiot. Of course you can assume you’re coming for Thanksgiving! Mom would be insulted if you didn’t! As would your boyfriend.”

So that’s why he’s so enthusiastic about it. It is our first holiday being together.

I pull him closer and brush my nose against his. “We can’t have that.”

I want to stay this close and shift into a kiss, but he has to know . . . “Your hands are freezing, and even your nose is cold, Jack. You have the worst circulation of anyone I’ve met.”

He draws back. “Rude. I’ll warm up if we jog.”

“I can’t hold your hand if we’re jogging.”

“Technically you can, it’d just make us look funny. And change our gaits.”

I take both of his hands in mine, sandwiching them, and bring them to my mouth, breathing out low. Jack melts. “How are you so warm?” he asks.

I chuckle. “Maybe I’m meant to be able to warm you up.”

“Maybe you’re secretly a hothead, but so good at guarding your expression no one sees it.”

“Do you want me to take my hands away?”

“No.”

I laugh and breathe out over his hands again. He drifts closer with another sigh. “So much better.”

Wind rushes over us, snaking along the back of my neck. I wish I’d worn a scarf. It is cold this morning. Standing still is letting that autumn chill take root. “We should jog, or we’ll be late to meet the guys back here.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sure you’re not a little cold?”

“Of course not.”

His exhaling laugh tells me he doesn’t believe me. He starts a loping stride forward. “Seriously, though, did you think we wouldn’t invite you for Thanksgiving?”

No, but it’s such a family-based holiday .

. . even knowing how welcome I am in Jack’s family, I couldn’t let myself be fully confident I’d be invited.

It would be too devastating if I weren’t, and had to face the mockery of the holiday I’ve had every year.

“You could have plans to travel somewhere,” I say, in a partial truth.

I see his breath in the air. “Nah. Mom likes working at the diner the day before and the day after. She gets a lot of tips from people stopping in between shopping trips. And she loves cooking the feast in her own kitchen too much to go somewhere else. She pulls out all the stops. A giant turkey, stuffing, three kinds of pies.”

A true Thanksgiving feast . . . my mouth waters thinking of it.

My parents only make it home for Thanksgiving every few years.

Uncle Remington pays a catering service to bring dinner for us whether they come home or not, but it’s never turkey and mashed potatoes and pies.

It’s salmon and caviar and truffles. There’s a lot of good food.

It’s just not the right food. It’s never been the right day.

This year will be different.

We finish our jogging route and return to the fountain. Jack pulls a banana from his bag and wordlessly gives me half.

“Bring one for me?” a boisterous voice calls a minute later, as Jack finishes his half.

Seth jogs closer and stops in front of us, grinning.

“If I’d brought two Eli and I each would’ve gotten one,” Jack says. He wraps the peel in a tissue and stuffs it in the side pocket of his backpack.

Seth flicks his floppy hair from his face. “Real friends share.”

“Yeah, bad jokes. When you start sharing food, I will too.”

“We should,” I murmur.

I feel Jack and Seth’s eyes on me and realize I said it out loud.

“Thanksgiving’s coming up this week.”

“Yep,” Seth says slowly. “Just realize it?”

I stand up. “No, but your question about sharing food got me thinking. Don’t some people do a Thanksgiving with friends?”

Seth’s grin widens. “Elliot James, now you’re talking! Friendsgiving, here we come!”

“We can invite everyone on the team!” Jack says, jumping upright. “We’ll all make something—well, I might need help to make something, after last time . . .”

“How have we never thought of this before?” Seth asks. “It’ll be glorious!”

“I can hear you from the parking lot,” Fred says, jogging over. “What’s got the two of them so energized?” he asks me.

“A beautiful idea our blooming social butterfly had,” Seth says before I can answer. “Friendsgiving!”

Fred raises an eyebrow.

Seth tilts his head. “That’s all the idea gets? A raised brow?”

“I’m thinking. Try it sometime.” Fred slowly nods. “You know, I think we can make that work pretty well. Most of the guys are staying local for the break.” He smiles at me. “Great idea, Elliot.”

Fred’s quiet confidence seeps into me as easily as Seth’s exuberance, and knowing they both support the idea, I believe them. Jack bumps against me affectionately.

“You still have work today, right?” Fred asks Jack.

Jack nods.

“Then we better get to practicing, if we want a few minutes to start planning before you leave.”

“Let’s make this practice a little more interesting,” Seth says, rubbing his hands together. “The two of you against the two of us: upperclassmen versus underclassmen. Losers have to get a turkey.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Fred says.

Jack’s hand shoots out to shake Seth’s. “You’re on!”

Fred leans close to me as Jack and Seth shake hands. “They really share a brain when they’re together, don’t they?” he asks in a low voice.

My lips quirk up.

“Any idea how big a turkey you’ll need to get for a team of high school boys?” Fred asks the others as we walk toward his car. “I’d say pretty big. And those suckers are expensive.”

“We’ll deal with that when we get to it,” Seth says.

We drive to the school and head to the field with our soccer bags over our shoulders.

Coach can’t confirm we’ll be able to practice on the field like this forever, since our season is done, but for now, he said we should be fine for Saturday mornings.

Training with only the four of us can be challenging.

It’s definitely tiring—especially when we stop drilling and do two-on-two matches—but I think it’s helping improve all of our efficiency, navigating from defense to offense and having so much contact with the ball.

If we can keep this up, even just once a week, by the time next season starts we’ll be in another league of preparedness.

Of course, we end up doubled over laughing some of the time, when Jack trips (which happens a fair amount) or someone slips on the grass (again, mostly Jack), or Seth makes a snarky comment (most of the reason we stop to laugh).

We stop after about an hour and a half and sit on the field in a loose square.

“That’s one turkey you owe us,” Jack pants, flopping down on the still-damp grass.

“Maybe we can all pitch in?” Seth asks.

“Only if you bake an extra something in my place,” Jack says.

Fred’s water bottle squelches as he takes a long drink from it and sets it down. “If we can find a turkey, it makes the most sense to split the cost. Do we even want a turkey? If we do it next weekend, we might be in turkey comas from our own houses. We could have t—”

“Don’t suggest anything like tacos, Frederick,” Seth growls. “That’s blasphemy!”

“Isn’t the goal just to have a meal together?” I ask. “Fred does have a point that we don’t need to have turkey.”

“We’ll open it to the team,” Seth concedes. “But I want poultry in some form. At least chicken tenders.”

“That can be your contribution if we don’t get a turkey,” Fred says.

“The other big decision,” Jack says. “Where do we want to do this?”

“Maybe Gavin will let us use his place again,” Fred says.

“Put a message out to the group,” Seth says. “Clearly there isn’t a lot we can plan just the four of us.”

Fred fishes around in his bag and pulls out his phone. “All right, now we wait,” he says a minute later.

“Now you wait. I need to go shower before I go to the library,” Jack says, looking at the message Fred sent. His eyebrows are higher than usual, and I almost snicker. He must have just realized the time. He hops to his feet and slips his phone into his pocket. “Eli, you walking home with me?”

I stand and stretch. “May as well.”

Seth groans and lurches to his feet. “Your innocence is annoying sometimes. Just ask for a ride.”

Fred nods. “I can drop you at your house.”

Jack’s smile has a nervous waver to it. “Didn’t want to assume . . .”

“Just because you two are obsessed with walking everywhere doesn’t mean we are,” Fred says.

“Neither of us can drive,” Jack says, “and you give us rides often enough, I didn’t want to ask for another today.” His eyebrows press together. “I guess technically Eli can drive, now, if he gets his permit. That doesn’t change today, though.”

“I like walking,” I tell them. Nature has always been my escape; my solace.

I may not need it as desperately anymore, but it’s still part of me.

I doubt I’ll feel differently even as a senior, though I’ll probably drive by then.

Something about walking outside feels magical.

Getting to walk most places with Jack by my side, it’s even more precious.

He’ll make it more bearable when it’s freezing and dark most of the day, as fall blows away and winter takes its place.

Something shifts in Jack’s smile. Something I think is meant for me, to say he likes walking with me, too. “It’s not horribly far to walk everywhere.”

“Several miles a day, at least,” Fred reasons.

Jack and I look at each other and shrug.

Seth is silent for a heartbeat. “You two exhaust me.” He yanks the lanyard hanging from Fred’s pocket, capturing Fred’s car keys in his grip. “Luckily, we don’t have to walk everywhere.”

“You can walk if you want to, but if you do want a ride, now’s your chance,” Fred says, wrestling with Seth for his keys. Seth breaks from Fred’s arms and sprints toward the parking lot, Fred hot on his heels.

“We’ll walk to the library. Fred needs help now,” Jack says, and chases after them.

I chuckle and follow, grabbing up our bags. Fred manages to get the keys from Seth before we reach them. I toss everyone their bag and we climb into the truck, Jack and I taking our usual spots in the back.

“Freddy boy and I have a big US History project to work on tomorrow,” Seth says once we reach Jack’s house, “but if you want to save our brains at any point with a distraction, I won’t complain.”

Jack drops to the ground from the truck. “You got a project, too? We have one in Chem, due Wednesday.”

“Teachers love giving projects this time of year,” Fred says with a sigh. “Good luck with yours.”

We wave as they drive off. “I was serious about a distraction tomorrow!” Seth calls out the window.

Jack sniggers and leads the way into his house. “Mom, we’re back!”

Widget charges over, tail whirring. Jack scratches behind his ears. I pet his head. Such a weird little dog.

Mrs. Benson’s voice sounds from the living room.

“Oh, Eli is with you? Perfect!” We find her sitting on the floor next to Hugh, rolling a toy car back and forth on a play mat designed with flat roads and buildings.

Hugh perks up when we appear and crashes into Jack with his arms flung wide, crying, “Uncle Jack!”

“Apparently I don’t play cars with him as well as you do,” Mrs. Benson says. “He’s been here, there, and everywhere this morning.”

“Janet’s at the library?” Jack asks, plopping down on the floor and picking up a car. Hugh scrambles to get one and bangs it against Jack’s.

Mrs. Benson nods. “She had some homework she needed to get done, so I told her to go. She’s taking Hugh to her friend’s house after his nap.”

“I told Eli he’s coming for Thanksgiving,” Jack says, between sound effects of crashing cars and mock yells as he races his car away and then back into Hugh’s.

Mrs. Benson moves from the floor to the couch, and pats the spot next to her for me to sit. “You knew you were invited, right?”

My eyes dart down as Widget comes trotting over and settles by my feet. “Uh . . .”

Mrs. Benson wraps me in a one-armed hug. “Well, you know now. We wouldn’t have it without you. And I’m eager to meet your family.”

I flinch. Jack cuts off mid-charge, so Hugh’s belly chuckle falters. Hugh grunts to get Jack’s attention, but Jack and I are staring at Mrs. Benson. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Mrs. Benson’s eyebrows lift. “I’m inviting your parents and your uncle, too, Eli.”