He gestures toward the counseling offices. “College stuff?”
“Oh, god!” I shake my head when I realize I sound angrier than I am. “Sorry. I’m just noticing how no one wants to talk about anything but college with us. It’s only December. Our second semester hasn’t even started.”
He grins at me. “I’m ready to get out of here.”
“Well, sure, me too. It’s the principle of it.” I look away from him. It’s easy to fix my gaze on a row of student-made posters promoting the winter choir concert. I don’t actually have to tell him nothing’s going to happen between us, do I? That fact couldn’t seem more apparent. “I should get back to class.”
He nods. “See you, James.”
For some reason, I’m not included in the discussion between Dad and Mom about my plans for Christmas, and so even though I feel like I’ve more than already fulfilled my December obligations to her, I’m expected at Mom and Todd’s for Christmas Eve. I text her that I already have daytime plans and also that I’d like to bring a cake from Porto’s, so that gets me out of a big chunk of the day but also, hopefully, makes me look thoughtful.
“You really don’t have to do this,” I tell Kat while we’re standing in the seemingly miles-long line for cakes, even though we go to Porto’s together every Christmas Eve. “Don’t you want to go hang out with Quinn or something?”
“Duh, no, I always hang out with you on Christmas Eve, and you know it, dork. And Quinn had to go down to Orange County for some family thing anyway.”
“Yikes,” I say, which makes Kat laugh.
“I know. Part of her family is, like, super uptight and conservative, and they’re always like, you look like a boy! You’re never going to get a boyfriend like that! Like, uh, do you think she’s trying to get a boyfriend? It’s like they refuse to see her for who she is.”
“That sucks,” I say. “I like guys and I’d still be angry if someone said I had to dress differently to get one.”
“Right? And Quinn’s so freaking nice, she just sort of deals with it, I guess. I would boycott going or show up looking, like, as gay as possible.”
I really wouldn’t have imagined that someone as out as Quinn would have to deal with family members like that. “Is she OK?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s totally fine. Quinn handles everything, like, super amazingly, you know?”
Actually, what I know is that even math physically stresses Quinn out, but Kat seems to have some alternate Quinn she’s dating who isn’t afraid of anything.
“Why didn’t you preorder your cake?” Kat asks me.
“I forgot. Aren’t you having fun in this line?”
She giggles. “I like hanging out with you no matter what, you goober. So I feel like this is a trick question.”
I notice a ring shimmering on Kat’s index finger, right below her top knuckle. “Is that new?”
“Quinn got it for me for Christmas,” she says. “I think I mentioned once I wanted one of these midi rings, and she found, like, the best one. Plus a little stuffed otter, and she made us, like, a vat of tiramisu. My dad’s totally obsessed with her because of all the food she’s made us, or helped me make.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Considering he clearly hated Matty.”
“Sometimes I think he’s just way more comfortable with me dating a girl and not, like, having some boy steal me away, which I freaking hate,” she says. “You’re so lucky your dad’s not like that.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“My dad asked my help so he could buy a present for . . .” Kat sighs. “His girlfriend, I guess, is what I have to call her? Diane. He was going to buy her this really fancy candle, which just seemed weird, right?”
“Well, how fancy?”
We both laugh and debate the merits of expensive candles until I finally reach the front of the counter and ask for a Tres Leches cake.
At Kat’s house, I get out my gift for her and she hands me a tiny gift bag overstuffed with sparkly tissue paper.
“Kat, if this is a fancy candle . . .”
She bursts into giggles. “OMG, I wish.”
Wrapped inside the sparkly tissue paper is a sleek pair of blue leather gloves.
“They’re ’cause it gets cold in Michigan,” she tells me. “And that’s one of the Michigan colors!”
“I might not get in,” I tell her. “But, thank you.”
I actually got her jewelry, too, but seeing the sleek little ring on her finger makes me hate my gift so much. It feels so young and in the past now.
“OMG,” Kat says, though, in an excited tone. “My emoji! Where did you find these?”
I shrug. “The internet. It’s amazing what people on Etsy will make.”
She immediately fastens the emoji earrings and takes a selfie for Instagram. It’s stupid to feel some sort of relief being tagged in her photo, but I do anyway.
Kat stays over until Dad’s home from the shop, then she heads home. We’ve promised to hang out first thing on the twenty-sixth as per tradition. Before we could drive, we’d force one of our parents to drive us to the Americana so we could spend our gift cards. Now the thought of the mall seems pretty horrible, but traditions are traditions.
“So I know that you don’t want me to say this, but . . .” Dad gives me a fairly serious look.
“But what?” I ask.
“Don’t you think it’s time that you headed over to your mom’s?”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I can feel that you’re about to make me.”
“Good guess.”
I take my time packing an overnight bag and remember to grab the Tres Leches cake on my way to the door. Dad hasn’t moved, and he gives me what I think he thinks is a genuine smile. But his eyes are sad, and it hits me that I’m saying good-bye to my own dad on Christmas Eve. I hug him as quickly as possible, and make it to my car, out the driveway, and then all the way down Riverside Drive before bursting into tears.
I get up early on Christmas Day, change into my running clothes, and take off from the house. Instinctively, I keep an eye out for Logan, who must be home on break. But of course I’m not dashing through the tiny streets of Magnolia Park, so there’s no chance I’ll run into him. Which is for the best. I think.
Mom (and technically Todd) gave me new running shoes for Christmas last night, and I have to admit they’re lighter on my feet, and I’m looking forward to training in them in the upcoming track season. It’ll be my first without Logan and—seriously, could I stop thinking about Logan for five minutes, even?
The house smells like cinnamon and coffee when I walk back in, exactly like a house should on Christmas morning. Mom’s alone in the kitchen, wearing her fuzzy blue robe that she’s had forever. I can almost pretend nothing’s changed.
“How are the shoes?” she asks.
“Really good. Thanks.” I pour myself a mug of coffee. “The season starts soon.”
“You must be excited.”
I shrug. “It’s always good to be out there again. I can’t really explain it.”