Chapter 12 #2
He glanced at me over his shoulder as he crouched to the lowest cabinet on the left; smiling sweetly, he quickly darted his face back to the bowl when he noticed I caught him staring.
I unwrapped the giant stick of butter and smeared it all over the pan’s surface.
Jamie began to roll the dough into small balls and placed them onto the pan’s surface.
Each ball was the perfect size, one and a half inches, convincing me he had some magic cookie-dough ruler built into him.
Once he had arranged them perfectly in six rows and three columns, Jamie placed the pan into the oven below where the turkey was cooking.
He then twisted the round, white timer, which was resting near Kayla, who was opening a can of green beans.
“What are you doing?” Lucas barked at Kayla.
“I am helping you make your dinner. Thank you very much, Gordon Ramsay.” Kayla waved the can opener at him.
Lucas grasped the handle of the potato masher in his left hand. “Why are there canned green beans in my kitchen?”
“Because three days ago, you told me not to forget the green beans on my way over here, so I didn’t forget the green beans!” The red ribbons tied to the ends of her two boxer braids bounced as she jabbed her finger into my brother’s chest.
“I didn’t mean canned green beans, I meant fresh green beans from the vegetable aisle!”
“And there’s a difference?” she taunted him.
“Yes!”
“Well, it’s too late now. Looks like it’s a canned green bean Christmas.”
Lucas chewed on his back molars. “Over my dead body.”
Jamie hopped in the middle of the two of them.
“You guys are fighting over a waxy vegetable that nobody likes unless smothered in heavy cream.” He looked at Lucas.
“Alex and I are done with the cookies; if you guys can take them out when the timer goes off, we can drive to the grocery store and get some green beans.”
“Fine.” Lucas released the breath he had been holding. He marched over to the fridge and opened it wide to pull out the ham that Julian wanted instead of the turkey. “Alex, where’s the ham?” He shot his head back at me.
“It’s in the freezer.”
“Why would the cooked ham be in the freezer?!?”
I slipped my right arm into my jacket, readying myself for a quick exit. “Because it’s not cooked …”
Yep, that vein on his forehead is going to explode. “What do you mean, it’s not cooked?”
“You told me to go to the store and get a ham, so I got a ham from the frozen meats department.”
His mouth opened and closed as his right hand clenched his chest as if he were having a heart attack.
“No, I told you to get a cooked ham from the deli! I have a turkey cooking in one oven and everything else cooking in the second. We don’t own a third oven, and thus, I needed an already-cooked ham!
” He slammed the refrigerator door and began pacing like an alcoholic outside a closed liquor store.
Jamie hopped in front of Lucas and placed his hands on Lucas’s shoulders. “Dude, breathe, we’re going to the store. We will get the ham and the green beans; everything is going to be okay.”
Lucas began taking slow and controlled breaths. “Just make sure you take her with you because I cannot guarantee her safety when you return.”
“Completely understood.”
Jamie grabbed the car keys off the counter and gestured for me to follow. I glanced at Lucas, who was standing there with a Crème Brulé torch, looking like he was about to declare war on the sweet potatoes. “You good, or should we get you a fire extinguisher?”
Lucas muttered something about marshmallows and perfection, still determined to give them that “extra crisp.”
I swung my eyes to Kayla, who was at the sink, humming to herself as she worked on shaping the dinner rolls, her hair swaying dangerously close to Lucas and his culinary torch.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with that thing?” I asked Lucas, my tone flat. “Because I’m about ten seconds away from calling the fire department.”
Lucas didn’t even glance up, too busy perfecting his marshmallow masterpiece. “Relax, Alex. I’m not the one in this family who lights dinner on fire.” He absentmindedly waved the torch a little too close to Kayla’s hair as he spoke.
“Lucas!” I gasped.
Jamie’s eyes widened as he saw the flame hit the end of Kayla’s braids. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a dish towel, dampened it at the sink, and quietly, almost casually, patted the flame out before Kayla had a clue what was happening.
Kayla, still focused on making the dinner rolls and oblivious to what we were all screaming about, shot her head back at Jamie. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, just admiring all the work you put into these tiny braids,” Jamie said, completely deadpan, as if a teenage boy talking about female hairstyles was normal.
Kayla, still blissfully unaware of the near disaster, rolled her eyes. “You guys are so weird today.”
I glanced at Jamie as we headed for the door. “Think we should tell her?”
Jamie grinned, shaking his head. “I think we should take this one to the grave.” He glanced back at Lucas before exiting. “Hey, dude, at least you got the marshmallows crispy.”
The car stereo blasted my favorite song as Jamie drummed his fingers on the wheel, his voice rising high above the music.
The car shook with each thump of the bass, but Jamie didn’t seem to care.
We were driving down to the market, and as I watched Jamie, I couldn't help but smile at his childlike glee. It felt as though I hadn’t seen that smile all year, but finally, here it was, shining brighter than ever.
As we approached a red light, the cars around us honked their horns and glared at us disapprovingly, partly annoyed by the disruption we were causing to the traffic and partly because Jamie’s voice, when mixed with mine, sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard.
But we didn’t care. Singing to terrible music at the top of my lungs was the best ten minutes of my life.
Six hundred seconds where nothing else mattered, no parental problems, no school drama, no fighting with friends; it was 600 seconds of pure, uninterrupted happiness with my favorite person on the planet.
Everyone has a memory that warms their stomach and makes their cheeks burn with bliss—a memory that can forever put a smile on their face and melt sadness from their heart. This was my magical moment.
When we strolled into the grocery store, I reached down to grab a small green shopping basket, but Jamie’s warm hand pressed on top of mine. I looked up at him to see a sneaky little grin dance over his lips.
“We are going to need a bigger cart.” He practically skipped over to the line of blue shopping carts and pulled one from the row. “Get in.”
I knitted my eyebrows together. “What?”
“Get. In.” He punctuated each word like a grand sentence from a Shakespearean play.
“You’re crazy, you know that.”
He pushed the cart closer to me and rested on the handrail. “Absolutely. That’s why I’m so irresistible.”
I rolled my eyes and snickered. “Ohh, whatever.”
I gripped the sides of the shopping cart and contemplated my choices. A: Refuse to go along with Jamie’s childish antics, which would probably save me a concussion and a trip to the store manager. Or B: say screw it and most likely have my photo on the wall of band customers for eternity …
Let’s be honest, there was no other choice. I threw my left leg into the basket and then my right before plopping down into the metal cage that seemed much roomier when I was a child.
“That’s my girl.”
“Your girl?”
“Forever, and always.”
My heart jumped into my ears. I knew he didn’t mean it the way I took it, but what’s life without a bit of delusion?
Jamie drove the shopping cart up and down the aisles, creating a rumbling thump and clunk as the wheels moved over the grocery store’s dirty tile floors.
Our screams and laughter muffled the sound as he bumped me into chip bags and stacks of water.
I felt my ribs contracting and expanding with the best pain I’ve ever felt as my chuckles turned into full-blown body cackles and snorts.
As we rushed through the crowded aisles of frantic last-minute Christmas shoppers, I scanned the premade food shelves, searching for the ham Lucas so badly wanted.
Only a few options were left, including some pre-made lamb shanks, a variety of sides such as mashed potatoes and creamed corn, and approximately two dozen turkeys.
Finally, through the piles of animal carcasses, my eyes locked on the one and only ham in the mix.
Its glossy exterior looked like the perfect amount of disgusting to be wonderful.
Jamie pushed the cart forward so I could get a better angle to reach for the ham.
I stretched out my fingers, ready to grab it, but before I could, another hand materialized from out of nowhere and snatched the ham away with lightning speed.
My breath caught in my throat, and my pulse quickened as I watched the ham slip from my grasp.
My jaw tightened, and my heart retreated into my stomach as I looked up to see Ms. Bragg, our principal, the Grinch herself, stealing my Christmas Eve happiness.
“Sorry, kiddos, looks like this is the last one,” she declared, her voice a chipper little knife that stabbed my eardrums.
My nostrils flared as I climbed out of the cart and positioned my body directly in front of hers, my weight planted on my back heel. “Good afternoon, Ms. Bragg. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if you noticed I was about to grab that.”
She swished an over-hair-sprayed curl out of her beady red eyes. “We can’t always get what we want.”
There were no words to describe the intense anger I felt toward this woman.
My blood pressure spiked every time she spoke, and my head spun.
She looked and sounded exactly like Umbridge from the Harry Potter movies, and just like the character, it seemed like Ms. Bragg’s mission in life was to destroy the happiness of every child she encountered.
I took a step closer to her, closing the distance between us. “You’re right; I wanted a country cottage from Kansas to fall on top of you, but alas, the Wicked Witch still stands.”
She shuffled the ham to her right arm and grasped her chest with her right hand as she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Young lady, I could expel you for that threat—”
“Young, yes. Lady, no.” I grinned. “But if you’re going to expel me anyway, I might as well take the ham with me.”
I jetted my hands out in front and gripped the cooked pig locked in her elbow.
Ms. Bragg’s fingers fumbled on top of mine, and soon, our hands were locked in a fierce tug of war.
With each thrust, the tension mounted, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.
Then, like a moment out of a cartoon, the ham slipped, tumbled to the floor with a resonating thud, and slid across the dusty tile until it smacked into the banana stand.
For a split second, I locked eyes with Ms. Bragg, and in an even shorter one, we both sprang into action, racing to the overcooked pig meat like two Swifties running to buy tickets to Taylor’s last concert.
I dodged a stray shopping cart as my heart pounded in my chest, and I lunged for the rolling ham.
My stomach smacked against the tile floor, and my elbows punched the ground beside me.
The force felt like a semi-truck plowing into my chest, but it was all worth it when my fingers brushed against the ham-smooth surface just in time.
With a triumphant cry, I swooped it into my arms like a football, cradling it into my chest.
“Ha, I win, bitch!” I screamed at Ms. Bragg as I jumped up and down.
I turned to see Jamie standing nearby, visibly shocked.
He held onto the cart, but it seemed more like a way to hold himself up, as he feared our principal more than anyone else.
His eyes moved between me and Ms. Bragg, unsure whether he should apologize for my actions or run out of the store as fast as possible.
Despite his panic, a hint of admiration flickered in his expression, and suddenly, a proud smile spread across his cheeks.
Without hesitation, he pushed the cart he was holding in front of him, blocking the space between Ms. Bragg’s path and me.
“Run!” he yelled, and I needed no further prompting.
We bolted down the aisle, our feet pounding the ground as we raced towards the exit.
I could hear Ms. Bragg’s angry shouts behind us, but I didn’t dare look back.
We burst through the automatic doors and kept running until we practically collided with Jamie’s car.
Only then did we stop, panting and gasping for breath.
“I cannot believe you just did that.” Jamie threw his hands on his knees, bending over to breathe.
“Are you kidding? That was the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for!” I was practically wheezing my words as I gasped for air.
“We are so getting detention when we go back to school.”
“Can you honestly tell me it wasn’t worth it, though?”
He furrowed his brow in thought. After a few moments, a small smile formed on his lips. “Okay, fine, maybe it was a little worth it.”
His breath found its pace, and his eyes met mine. He took a small step forward, his face was only inches from me.
He isn’t.
Is he?
He is.
He kissed me.
He ran his hands through my hair, sending shivers cascading from my cheeks to my toes as light wisps of rain began falling from the sky.
He pulled me so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin and the rapid pulse of his heart.
Every tug of his lip was an electric shock fusing my touch to his.
Every pull of his fingers beneath my hair was like hot water bathing icy skin.
And every small gasp of air was like a drug addicting me to its pleasure.
It was a feeling I never wanted to end, and one I will forever wish never did.