Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ELI
Seth sends a text to the group chat with the four of us Wednesday afternoon. I peek at it when I sit down at my desk in English, before the bell rings to start class.
I slide my phone into my backpack and open my mouth to call over to Jack, but the bell sounds before I can say his name.
“All right,” Ms. Walters says, scanning the room and submitting attendance on the computer. She moves to stand behind her podium, leaning on it with her arms crossed. “How many of you have heard about the snowstorm we’re supposed to get tonight?”
I guess I won’t need to tell Jack. About half the hands in the room go up. Jack sits straighter, energy apparently refueled just by the question.
“I’m not going to waste a lot of class time talking about it, but even if we do have a snow day tomorrow, your reading quiz will still be on Friday. So make sure you’ve finished the book by then.”
Most of the class groans, and Ms. Walters raises one hand. “It’s better to do it before a long break than after. Trust me. I don’t want you thinking a snow day means the quiz is cancelled. Anyway, I’m hoping for a snow day as much as you.” She chuckles. “We didn’t get one last year, after all.”
“You like snow days?” Matt Jones says skeptically.
“Did Shakespeare write sonnets? Yes!” Ms. Walters smiles.
“The school is giving us Monday off to start break early, because they know we would skip a one-day week,” Tia Daniels says.
“It's why we stayed in school the day before Thanksgiving, right? To have enough days in session. But if we have a snow day tomorrow, will they take it back, and make us come in on Monday?”
“It’s too late for them to take it back,” Matt says. “It just means we won’t get another snow day later this year.”
“If anything, it would impact Memorial Day weekend,” Ms. Walters says.
“But we don’t need to worry about it now.
The schedule for the rest of this month is set.
We have a lot to do today, so let’s get started.
We didn’t quite finish our discussion about how the symbol of the watch has changed since the start of the novel . . .”
Most of the class is gone the second after the bell for dismissal rings. Jack takes his time putting his binder in his backpack. “Did you have a question for me, Jack?” Ms. Walters asks, pausing in erasing the day’s plan from the whiteboard.
“Just trying to think of a specific question I should ask before the quiz.”
Her expression softens. “Don’t worry about the quiz, Jack.
Read the chapter and look over the study guide and you’ll be just fine.
I may seem mean for giving an assessment the day before break, but it’ll be just like all the other reading quizzes you’ve had.
Maybe a bit shorter, but you didn’t hear that from me. ”
I adjust the binder in Jack’s backpack and zip it for him, exhaling a laugh at the relief in his expression.
“You two don’t have Mrs. Goodman, do you?” Ms. Walters asks.
“We both have Chemistry,” Jack says.
“Our friend Seth said she’s calling for a 90% chance of a snow day,” I tell them.
“She upped it to 95,” Seth says, swinging around the doorframe. “Hey Ms. Walters! Long time no see!” His gaze shifts to us. “Freddy’s Freeloaders, our driver needs to get home, so we need to go if we want a ride.”
“Not a freeloader,” Jack mumbles, grabbing his backpack. “Bye, Ms. Walters!”
“Bye boys.” She grins. “See you Friday.”
Jack and I follow Seth into the hall and out to the student parking lot, where Fred has his truck started. “Sorry,” I say before Jack can, climbing in and shutting the door. “Had a question in English.”
Jack shoots me an appreciative glance.
Fred’s long brown fingers dance on the wheel for a second while we buckle. “It’s stupid for me to rush, but I’m paranoid I’ll miss it.”
“It’s Christmas with your brother in Germany,” Seth says, voice serious. “We get it.”
“You should have told us to walk,” I tell him.
Fred shakes his head. “Dean won’t be able to open the video chat yet anyway. I can get you guys home.” His dark eyes flit to mine in the mirror. “I told you I didn’t want you to walk home. Not in the cold.”
“You’re a good mama bird,” Seth says.
I smile and look out the window. I’m glad Fred will get to see Dean, even if it is only on a screen.
Fred’s brother couldn’t get leave over Thanksgiving or Christmas.
He can’t tell his family what work he does in the Air Force, but he’s busy working with computers all the time.
He’ll be busy through the holiday, Fred told us.
They planned to celebrate Christmas with Dean tonight, when he knew he could squeeze in an hour or so to video chat after his daily work.
Part of me wants to ask Fred to pass along a message from us, but I’ve never met Dean. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure, so I just end up saying, “Have a great time with your family,” when he drops me off at my house.
“Will do,” Fred says, lips curving up.
Jack squeezes my knee before I hop out of the truck. “Talk to you later.”
I agree and let them go, not wanting to make Fred feel more nervous about timing than he already does.
Jack has a dentist appointment in an hour.
I could go to his house and just hang out there while he’s gone, but I could really use the evening to myself.
I need to keep working on his gift, but also?
I’m expecting a phone call from my parents.
I go inside and grab a snack, then head straight to my piano to warm up. Uncle Remington appears in the doorway when I play one of the traditional pieces he loves. I feel him watching me, but he doesn’t say anything until I’ve finished the song.
“It’s difficult to stay away when you play like that,” he says.
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
He doesn’t move from the doorway. “As I said, hard not to when you play decent music. Easier when you switch to modern garbage.”
I stay like that, glancing at him over my shoulder until he realizes I won’t play more with him standing there. He clears his throat and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Not a bad interaction, overall.
I don’t let it bother me, play another piece to warm myself up, and continue where I left off on Saturday with my project for Jack. Before I know it I’m almost done with the main melody. And a few hours have passed.
Mom had asked if we could reschedule our phone call from last Friday to today, but I’m still surprised when it rings at six o’clock and shows her caller ID. I thought it would be Jack first.
“Elliot?”
“Hi, Mom.”
I can’t hear any background noise on her end. Maybe this is the one night a week she and my dad stay in. More likely she’s stepped away somewhere.
“Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry I had to push our call back a few days.”
“It’s fine. I know it’s a busy time of year.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
My heart constricts, just a fraction. I’ve been expecting this. It still hurts. “You’re not coming for Christmas.”
“No, I’m not. But I’m hoping you’ll come spend Christmas with us.”
I suck in a breath. “What?”
“We’re still in New York City,” Mom says. “We’re staying here through New Year's, and we thought you might fly out to spend your break with us.”
My voice fails me. If I’d gotten this offer last year, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now . . . part of me is tempted, but not all. Going means giving up my week with Jack, and Seth and Fred. Not meeting Jack’s cousins. Missing Mrs. Benson’s Christmas feast.
Going means seeing my parents, but not really seeing them. If they can’t come, my mom has a party or something to photograph. Probably a week’s worth of events. We might eat a few meals together, but I doubt I’ll spend real time with them.
“Sorry, Mom,” I say when I get my voice working. “I have plans with Jack and his family.”
She’s silent for several seconds that feel twice as long as they are.
“I’m glad you asked, though,” I say, slightly quieter. “It means a lot.”
She breathes out sharply. “I promised I would try to do better. I know I’m already falling short, but—”
“Mom,” I interrupt. I close my eyes. “I love you.”
She sighs. “I love you too, Elliot. So does your father. We’ll talk to you over Christmas, okay?”
“That’ll be great.”
I end the call and set my phone down on the piano bench. One deep breath, two . . . I open my eyes and pick it up again. Jack picks up immediately.
“I was just about to call you!”
“I was just on the phone with my parents.”
He’s quiet for a breath, and then says, “Hold on,” and hangs up. I start to frown at my phone when it lights up in my hand, a video chat request with Jack’s contact photo, and the frown fades before it can really form.
“You sounded really serious. More serious than usual, I mean,” he says, blue eyes scanning my face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I was just surprised. My mom asked me to go spend Christmas with them in New York City.”
His lips part and his eyebrows pinch down. “Oh.” He wets his lips. “Well, that should be interesting.”
I wish I could reach through the phone and kiss the tension from his brow. “I’m not going, idiot. I already have Christmas plans. With you.”
His face scrunches more. “I don’t want you to miss the holiday with your parents, when it’s what you’ve wanted for years.”
“It would be stolen moments,” I tell him. “I’m mostly stunned because . . . she asked.”
The dislike he has for my family flickers in his expression, and then a hesitant smile curls at his mouth. “You said you were hoping they’d change. I’d say that’s a good start. You’re really okay with this?”
The selflessness in his expression sends my heart into double time. He would tell me to go if I was at all torn, his own feelings be damned. “I’m more than okay with it, Jack.”
The hesitation vanishes from his face and he leans back against the wall of his bedroom, shoulders relaxing.
“I checked the weather a few minutes ago. Looks like we’re supposed to get heavy snow right in that sweet spot in the morning, before buses go out and when schools call for delays and snow days . . .”
I leave the library and go to my room, sitting on my own bed. Ready to talk to him until I go to sleep, potentially. “You’ll be up early to find out, won’t you?”
“Like you won’t. You’re as excited by the idea as I am, Eli.”
My first snow day with friends to spend it with? It makes me sound too pathetic to say that out loud, but I can’t deny I’m excited about the potential. I play it cool. “We’ll see what we get.”
“Yes,” Jack says, a sparkle in his eyes. “And I’ll be the one to tell you.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“You’ll be snoring into your pillow when I check the news.”
I almost laugh. “Challenge accepted. But no using an alarm!”
He holds his hand in front of the camera.
“You’re a dork,” I tell him.
I pretend to shake his hand anyway, and I feel like I’m already winning when I see the satisfied glow in his eyes.