Hot Cocoa Hearts Page 10

  I threw up my hands. “Oh, sure, now you’re an authority on Alex and fashion?”

  She blinked innocently. “I’m talented, what can I say?” I laughed, and then her face got serious. “And as far as your dad goes,” she said. “Maybe cut him a little slack. Your parents sound great, even with the Christmas obsession. And at least they’re around. They want to be a part of your life.” She bit her lip. “Mine are away so much. They miss out on a lot.”

  I froze, mentally slapping my forehead as I put two and two together. How had I not realized this before? “Your parents aren’t going to your concert tonight, are they?”

  “They’ll be on the plane for London. A three-day trip.” She sighed, then shook it off with a smile. “It’s fine. I’m used to them missing my stuff.”

  “That stinks,” I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my own attitude toward my parents. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me.”

  But after her nails dried and we said good-bye, what she’d said about her parents stayed with me. The thought of her singing at the glee concert without them in the audience gave me a hollow ache in my stomach. I’d been planning on giving Nyssa a small gift certificate to the A La Mode fashion jewelry boutique on Main Street for her final Secret Santa gift. But suddenly, that didn’t feel right. I wanted to give her something different. Something she’d never expect.

  As Mom drove me home from the salon, I asked her if I could borrow her camera. Mine still wasn’t working, and Mom had told me it might have shuttered its last frame.

  “Of course, honey,” she said. “But what do you need it for?”

  “The glee concert tonight,” I said with a smile. “I need to go, and if it’s okay, I think you and dad should come, too.”

  Three hours later, I walked into Fairview Middle School’s auditorium with my plan in place. Mom, Dad, and I took our seats. Dad and I were tiptoeing around each other, and he’d seemed surprised that I’d asked him to come along to the show at all. Still, I knew he wouldn’t turn down anything involving holiday music, and Mom was sitting between us as a buffer to the awkwardness. As soon as the curtain rose, I started snapping photos. Nyssa looked beautiful up on the stage, and she gave a performance that would’ve put Lea Michele to shame.

  After the show, Mom and Dad, who I’d told about Nyssa’s absentee parents, found Nyssa in the wings and gushed over her performance, just like I knew they would. Nyssa beamed, delighted.

  “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said, elbowing me.

  “Would you have believed me if I had?” I grinned.

  She laughed. “Never in a million years.” Then she added in a whisper, “I can see right through that Underground armor of yours, Em. I’m on to you, and …” She squeezed me hand. “Thank you.”

  I felt a glow at her words. “You’re welcome.”

  We didn’t stay long, because Nyssa’s hordes of admirers and fellow glee clubbers soon surrounded her for hugs, but I felt great as we headed for home. Mom’s camera was full of photos, and by nine o’ clock that night, I’d proofed and printed thirty pictures of the concert. I’d pick up a nice album tomorrow after school, put the photos in it, and give it to Nyssa at the party.

  I felt like it was the first thing I’d managed to get right all weekend. Still, though, it wasn’t enough to make me forget about Dad. Or Alex. Not even close.

  I searched the faces in the cafeteria, looking for that unmistakable curly hair, those twinkling eyes. But as students trickled into the lunch line and to the tables, there was no sign of him. I hadn’t heard from him or seen him since Saturday, and now it was Wednesday. I was sure he was still mad about our fight, and so was I, but I hadn’t expected it to make him drop off the face of the earth. Worry twisted my insides. Where was he?

  “Looking for me, I hope?” a voice said at my shoulder, and I turned to see Sawyer smiling at me, holding his cafeteria tray in his hands.

  “Hi,” I said too quickly, flustered that I’d been caught off guard by his question. “Um … yes. You.” My voice swung up enthusiastically even as my stomach sunk a notch. Of course I was happy to see him, but I knew if I didn’t ask now, the question would bug me the rest of the day. “And, actually, has Alex been in history class? I haven’t seen him all week.”

  Sawyer shook his head. “He’s been sick.” He motioned for me to follow him to the stage. “Come on, let’s grab our spot.”

  My heart flipped. Our spot. But the giddiness only lasted a second before worry quashed it.

  “Sick?” I repeated as we sat down in a spot near Jez, Gabe, and the other Undergrounds. It was a few feet away from the rest of the group, though, which made it feel more private, almost like Sawyer and I were having a lunch “date.”

  “He has a cold, I guess,” Sawyer said casually. “I dropped off some homework for him yesterday after school.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. Well, at least Alex didn’t hate me so much that he’d left the country. At least, not yet.

  Seeing him at the mall had become a habit, I’d realized in the quiet boredom of the North Pole Wonderland this week. It was also something I looked forward to. Without Alex there to harass me with hot chocolate or pick good-natured fights, my hours at the photo booth had stretched out painfully.

  As Sawyer worked on songs with Gabe over lunch, I tried to stay tuned in to the music. But my mind kept drifting to Alex. I wasn’t even aware of it until Sawyer nudged my elbow.

  “Hey, you’ve been spacing all lunch. Did you hear any of my songs?”

  “Sure! I was listening.” But he didn’t look convinced. “Sorry,” I added sheepishly. “Just … thinking.” What was wrong with me? Here I was, sitting next to my one-and-only crush, and I was stressing over Alex? Ridiculous!

  Sawyer’s expression turned sour. “You’ve been doing that a lot this week.” He shrugged. “If my music’s not that important to you, then—”

  “No!” I protested. “It is!” A rush of blood heated my face. “Things have been a little tense at home, that’s all.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t tell me. Your dad’s still miffed.”

  “Yeah.” With the exception of the smile he’d had during Nyssa’s glee concert, Dad had been in a funk all week. When it came to putting up our own Christmas tree in the family room, he did it with Mom one day after I left for school. I came home to find it twinkling in our front window. The final knife to the heart was the star tree topper. No matter how much I protested, Dad always managed to guilt me into putting it on top. “You’ve been doing it since you were born,” he said each year. “It’s bad luck to break tradition.”

  Not this year, though. When I walked in to find the star already glowing atop the tree, Dad offered me his new, sad smile. “I went ahead and put it up. No sense in pretending you wanted to, right?”

  Now I took a halfhearted bite of my sandwich and said to Sawyer, “I guess I didn’t expect my dad to take it so hard.”

  Sawyer nodded. “It does seem ridiculous. You were only standing up for what you believe.”

  My throat tightened. There was so much I’d held back from him as we’d gotten to know each other over the last couple of weeks. What would he think if he knew about my alter elf ego? He’d think I was as big of a fake as all the other “poseurs.”

  “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “Maybe I could pretend a little. For my dad’s sake.”

  “Why would you do that?” He stared at me like I’d said something unfathomable.

  I sighed. “Because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I mean, he’s my dad.”

  “Yeah. But sometimes honesty comes at a price.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it sounded harsh. “Your dad will get over it. And in the meantime, you should focus on something else. Negativity drags me down. It gets old fast.”

  I stared at him. What was he saying? That he thought I was griping too much? I swallowed anxiously, wondering if he might be getting tired of me. Then, to my relief, he put his
hand on my shoulder and smiled.

  “Besides, Christmas will be over by next week, and then the Holly Jolly House will be gone forever.”

  I nodded, adding a weak, “I can’t wait.”

  “I can’t wait to get the homeroom party over with tomorrow,” Sawyer said with an eye roll. The party, which had originally been scheduled for Friday night, had been bumped up to Thursday because there was a snowstorm in the forecast. “I’m sure you’re just as sick of Mrs. Finnegan’s Secret Santa countdown as I am.”

  I nibbled on my fruit salad, hesitating over how to respond. The truth was, I’d felt a growing excitement over the party. Not only because I couldn’t wait to see Nyssa’s face when she opened the photo album I’d made for her, but also because tomorrow, Sawyer would finally be able to confess to being my Secret Santa.

  “I have to admit,” I said now. “The Secret Santa stuff was more fun than I thought it would be.”

  He looked at me curiously. “Don’t tell me you’re succumbing to the Hallmark brainwashing!”

  “I’m not!” I blurted, but even as I said it, my chest tightened. I found myself doing this more and more with Sawyer lately, scrambling to prove that I was who I said I was. I took a deep breath. “It’s just that, I can’t wait to meet my Secret Santa face-to-face. Finally.”

  “I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Sawyer said as the bell rang. He stood up to throw his trash away and held out his hand to help me up off the floor.

  “I don’t think I will be,” I said breathlessly, my hand tingling in his.

  “There’s only one part of the party I’m looking forward to.” He smiled. “Hanging out with you.” He gave my hand a slight squeeze, then turned to join Gabe to walk to class. “See you later.”

  I was still staring after him, knees wobbling, heart prancing, when Jez latched onto me.

  “I saw hand-holding!” she whisper-shrieked. “Hand-holding. In the middle of the caf!”

  “I know!” I said. “But it’s—” I paused, focusing on the tiles passing under my feet. “It’s different from what I expected. I kind of get the feeling he’d like me less if I didn’t agree with him on everything.”

  “But you guys do agree on everything.”

  Did we? Really? My stomach churned with uncertainty.

  “You know what?” Jez slid an arm around me. “You’re nervous. That’s all. Who wouldn’t be? You’re about to become the girlfriend of one of the coolest guys in school. And you’ve never had a real boyfriend before! This is huge.”

  I looked at her enthusiastic smile and felt a wave of relief. “You’re right.” I smiled back at her. “I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  On Thursday, school went by in a buzz of excitement, as everyone prepared for the last day before the weeklong winter recess. No official announcement had been made about school being canceled for Friday, but weather stations were predicting the snowstorm was going to dump at least six inches or more, so teachers were handing out candy canes and showing movies on their Smart Boards in full last-day-before-break mode.

  The expectant, cheery atmosphere made it even harder for me to focus on anything besides the party, and each hour passed with excruciating slowness as my restlessness grew. By the time the final bell rang and kids streamed out of the school, whooping and hollering at the heavy blanket of clouds overhead, my pulse was racing.

  When I got to the Leaning Tower of Pizza, where the party was being held, I found everyone from the homeroom class hanging out in a private room in the back. I had to hand it to Mrs. Finnegan. She’d gone all out for this party. Strings of lights and twinkling snowflakes hung down from the ceiling, casting the room in a soft, multicolored glow. The old-fashioned jukebox in the back corner was playing Sinatra’s version of “Silver Bells,” and there was even a floor-to-ceiling tree decked out with decorations.

  Underneath the tree were everyone’s final Secret Santa presents, which we’d brought into school earlier in the week in shopping bags so no one would sneak peeks. They shone in sparkling piles, and even though the logical part of me tried to quell it, I felt the same stirrings of unstoppable eagerness I felt when I was little on Christmas morning. Maybe presents were materialistic, but when it came down to it, they were pretty darn irresistible, too.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” Nyssa said, coming to stand beside me. She was as glam as ever in a bright red sweaterdress that looked like it was at least part cashmere. “My parents don’t even bother to wrap presents anymore. They don’t see the point. I usually just get a cash card in my stocking.”

  “Really?” I said. “That’s … different.” And sad, I thought automatically, then caught myself. Wait a sec. Wasn’t I always telling my parents I didn’t see the point of lots of gifts under the tree when so many other people in the world went without? Still, imagining Nyssa opening a slender envelope of money made a pang shoot through my heart.

  Nyssa flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I feel ridiculous complaining about it, really. I should be grateful. But it takes away the fun of the surprise, you know?”

  “I get that,” I said. “But, hey, speaking of surprises, how did the one for Sawyer work out?”

  “Great!” She grinned. “Thanks again for the idea. My dad is setting up the tour for a day when Brittle Bones will be recording an album.”

  “Brittle Bones is his favorite band! He’ll love it,” I said.

  “Maybe he’ll invite you on the tour with him,” Nyssa said slyly with a giggle.

  “Yeah.” My heart sped up, but instead of the dizzying joy I’d expected, I felt a mild sense of panic.

  But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because at that second, Nyssa sucked in a breath and whispered, “Oh!” She put a finger to her lips. “He just walked in!”

  Sawyer spotted me from across the room, smiled, and took a step toward me, but Mrs. Finnegan walked in right behind him.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, have a seat where you are, please.” She bounced on the tips of her toes. “I’ll pass out the presents, and we’ll open them together. Once you’ve opened your gift, you can move about the room to thank your Secret Santas.”

  Excited whispers swirled around the room as Mrs. Finnegan handed out the presents. Adrenaline surged through me when she settled a heavy square package, covered in gold wrapping paper with dark angels printed all over it, into my lap. My body tensed with excitement. I could barely breathe. I knew Sawyer was sitting somewhere off to my left, but I didn’t have the courage to look at him.

  “That’s everyone,” Mrs. Finnegan announced, beaming. “On the count of three. One, two …”

  “Three” was drowned out by the commotion of twenty-two presents being ripped open. I eagerly tore off the gold wrapping paper and lifted the lid of the plain brown box. Inside, nestled in purple tissue paper, was the digital camera I’d been trying to save for, along with a note that read: “It is more important to click with people than to click the shutter.” Happy Holidays, Sawyer.

  I knew that quote. Alfred Eisenstaedt, one of my favorite photographers, had said that. I’d never thought of it as romantic, until I saw it scrawled in Sawyer’s handwriting. Did he mean click with people, as in click with him? I smiled. I couldn’t have dreamed up anything more perfect he could’ve said to me.

  I lifted the camera out of the box as gently as I would’ve done with a precious crystal, turning it over in my hands, examining its features as my smile grew even wider. I was about to turn the camera on when I was suddenly attacked by a squealing, hugging red sweater that wouldn’t let me go.

  “Omigod, Em!” Nyssa cried, her lip-glossed smile looking even more fabulous in its beaming authenticity. “You’re my Secret Santa?”

  “Guilty,” I deadpanned, but I couldn’t help laughing as she threw her arms around me again.

  “This,” she said, lovingly patting the photo album cradled in one arm, “is the best present I’ve ever gotten. Ever.”

  “Oh, come on,” I joked, “it’s no compe
tition for Coach or cashmere.”

  “Would you stop and let me give you a compliment, please?” Nyssa said, turning serious. “This album, the cookies you made, the funny shirt. All the gifts you gave me were so, so thoughtful. Seriously. I’ve heard you say how much you hate the holidays, but honestly, Em, you’re the best gift giver ever.” She squeezed my hand, looking shockingly teary-eyed with joy. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Warmth filled me, and I felt relief and pride that I’d made her so sincerely happy with such simple gifts.

  “I’m going to go get a slice of pizza,” she said, then leaned forward to add in a whisper, “because you’re about to get some company.” She hurried across the room as Sawyer walked over to me, smiling.

  “The so-called secret’s out,” he said, nodding toward the camera. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I said softly. “Thank you. All of your Secret Santa ideas were awesome.”

  “I’m glad, but I can’t take the credit. I got some great tips from one of your friends.”

  “Really?” I said, instantly thinking how sneaky Jez was to be able to pull the wool over my eyes for this long. And she’d denied it, the stinker. “So that’s how you knew that I wanted a new camera?”

  He nodded, then motioned toward the note he’d written, which I was holding in my hand. “That’s also how I found out about Eisenstaedt. I didn’t have a clue who he was, or about that quote, either. Your friend did all the shopping and card writing for me. With all the prep work I had to do for the concert, I didn’t have any time.”

  “Oh.” A heavy disappointment filled me, but I immediately tried to shake it off. So what if he hadn’t chosen the gifts on his own? That didn’t make them any less sweet. “Well, I’m glad my friend could help,” I said, determined not to feel let down by what were probably my impossibly high expectations. “I so needed a new camera.”