Chapter 9
NINE
ELI
Fall always disappears so fast, after Thanksgiving.
If Jack said that out loud, I’d call him an idiot without missing a beat, yet here I am thinking this obvious truth with wonder.
It does make sense. Thanksgiving is at the end of November.
Still, part of me misses the leaves coating the ground and the crisp snap in the air, as we head into winter.
The light that seems to fade like water in a sieve.
Winter may be beautiful, but light is in short supply.
It does make a semi-permanent blush color Jack’s pale cheeks, though. And his ears stick out from beneath the orange cap I gave him more often than not. If I got him a pointed hat he’d really look like an elf.
He certainly has the Christmas spirit to be considered an elf.
Winter spirit in general. I guess it is fitting that his birthday is in the middle of winter.
The excitement in his eyes when we got the first dusting of snow of the season, in the second week of December?
It hasn’t faded in the days since, even though the snow has vanished.
I don’t think this winter will be as dark as last year.
How can it, when this embodiment of the sun is constantly by my side?
The days are shortening, so when we stay after school to practice drills and hang out with Seth and Fred, it’s dark by the time we head to Jack’s house. Fred’s taken to driving us home without asking if we want a ride.
“My phone says we’re getting more snow tomorrow!” Jack says, sitting next to me in Fred’s truck.
“Snow on a Saturday doesn’t do us any good,” Seth says, looking back at us. “We didn’t get a single snow day last year. We’re overdue!”
“Still plenty of time for snow,” Fred points out.
“But it’s best before Christmas,” Jack insists.
“Still time for that, too,” Fred says in his calm voice. “We have all of next week before break.”
“Your phone said we would get snow two days ago,” I say without looking at Jack. “I’m not sure I trust it.”
“We need to ask Mrs. Goodman,” Seth says. “The woman is a walking snow-day predictor. Gavin says she’s never been wrong.”
“What does she teach?” Jack asks.
“Earth Science.”
He nods. “Makes sense.”
Curiosity itches at me. They must be so hopeful for a snow day for a reason. “What do you do when we get a snow day?”
Jack spins to sit sideways in his seat, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t say you’ve never had a fun snow day.”
I scoff. “I wouldn’t say that.” Have I had a particularly memorable one? No, but that’s beside the point. “I asked what you do on a snow day.”
“Sleep, for one,” Seth says.
“Read,” Fred chimes in.
“Build a snowman!” Jack says.
Yeah, that tracks.
“You, Elliot?” Fred asks, dark eyes flitting to me in the rearview mirror.
“Reading, walking around outside. That kind of thing.”
Jack’s face lights up. “We’ll do more than that when we get a snow day.”
It’s hard not to smile. “You’re so confident we’ll get one.”
His lips twitch up, like he’s trying to be serious but is too excited to stick with it. “Like Fred said, we’ve got plenty of time. I just hope it’s before Christmas.”
“Speaking of,” Seth says, swiveling in his seat to face us. “Are we still doing Friendmas?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Jack asks.
Seth sighs. “The others aren’t as psyched about Friendmas, the jerks. They’ll do a hangout, but no Secret Santa.”
“We can do it with the four of us,” Jack says. “Right?”
“I’m game,” I say as we pull up to Jack’s house.
“Jack, think your mom will mind if we come in for a second?” Fred asks.
Jack chuckles. “She’ll probably invite you for dinner.”
Fred smiles. “I won’t impose like that, but I need to borrow a hat and a piece of paper. Gotta do Friendmas right, don’t we? Let’s get it set today. I’ll rip up paper with our names. If you draw your own, put it back.”
We follow Jack inside. “Mom, Eli, Seth, and Fred are here,” Jack calls.
Widget rushes over to us with an excited bounce, tail whipping back and forth.
Seth sits down in the entryway to pet him.
The rest of us take off our shoes and head to the kitchen, where Mrs. Benson is leaning on the counter, writing a list. She sets down her pen when we walk in and smiles at us. “Hi boys!”
“Sorry to drop in uninvited,” Fred says.
She scoffs. “You know you’re always welcome.”
“We’re doing a Secret Santa and need some paper.” Jack moves to the drawer where they keep notepads and pens and brings over a piece of paper and a blue pen. Fred sets to ripping up the paper and writing our names. “I’ll go get a hat.”
“Have a good practice?” Mrs. Benson asks.
Jack reappears with his orange hat and Fred drops the folded papers into it. “Some of the guys think we’re crazy, practicing the way we do,” Fred says. “They say it’s too much work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s something you love, though, with people you like being around.”
“We still go a little harder than we have to,” I say, repressing a chuckle.
“Well . . .” Fred rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“I was going to make dinner and didn’t feel like it,” Mrs. Benson says. “So it’s a pizza night. What kind do you boys want?”
Widget runs in, closely followed by Seth. “Mrs. Benson, you’re amazing,” Seth says. He holds his hands up. “I didn’t just come in because she mentioned food. Widget needed a good belly rub and the timing worked out.”
“Sure,” Jack says.
“We don’t want to intrude,” Fred tells Mrs. Benson.
“We don’t want to be rude, either,” Seth mock whispers, giving Fred a look.
Mrs. Benson laughs. “How about I just order an extra pizza, and you happen to have a slice or two?”
“Can that pizza have sausage and pepperoni?” Seth asks.
Mrs. Benson smiles and goes to order the pizzas.
Fred throws Jack’s hat at Seth. “Pick a name, you mooch.”
“You want pizza too, and you know it.”
We all draw names and stick the slips in our pockets. I resist the urge to look at my person when I read his name. Fred. I can work with that.
“What’s our budget?” Jack asks.
“Nothing crazy,” Fred says. “Whatever you’re comfortable with?”
We all agree.
“Before or after we meet the guys for the Friendmas hangout?” I ask.
“Friendmas is after real Christmas right? Let’s kick off school break with our mini Friendmas,” Seth suggests. “Next Friday. I’ll get us some grub, so Freddy boy doesn’t call me a mooch again.”
“We can go to my place,” Fred says.
“So we’ve got one week to get our Secret Santa gifts together,” Jack says, smiling. “Perfect.”
We settle in and all but demolish the pizzas when they arrive, hanging out and just having a good time, and it isn’t until I’m home, changed into pajamas and ready to sleep, that it hits me.
Christmas. Presents.
I fall back on my bed and close my eyes.
I need more than a gift for my Secret Santa.
How could I forget that? I haven’t actually given a Christmas present in a long time.
Since we stopped making crafts for holidays in elementary school, I can count the number of gifts I’ve given on one hand.
My parents always said not to get them anything, since they didn’t know where they would be and that ‘they would be the ones to pay for it’ anyway.
They might accept something this year, since we had that heart-to-heart at Thanksgiving, but it’s not them I’m worried about.
It’s not Friendmas, either.
What can I get for Jack?
How can I find a perfect gift for the boy who fundamentally changed my life?
No way I’m going to sleep now. Not until I think of something. I start one of my favorite playlists and get about halfway through before an idea strikes. My eyes shoot open.
Music. I can do something with music.
I stop the playlist and move to my desk, opening up my laptop. I have some research to do.