Chapter One
“The weather outside is frightful…”I frown, turning up the volume on my phone.“But the fire is so delightful...”
I stand back and look at it, the two-year-old dinged up cell phone that can only be described as a piece of crap, while it tries to play some Christmas music.
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
I frown. The music is distorted, tinny, and too quiet. Last year we played Christmas music on the television using one of those cool satellite TV music channels. It filled the whole apartment with clear, quality sound. Max, Mom, and I danced around the kitchen while we made our holiday sugar cookies, as per family tradition.
Mom cancelled the cable TV three months ago. But the tradition must go on, so I’m trying to fill the air with some holiday spirit from my piece of crap phone that seems to have a speaker that was made only for people with supernatural hearing. I press the volume button again, even though it doesn’t get any louder.
Come on, holiday spirit. You can do it!
This issonot working.
“I love this song!” Max says as he rushes into the kitchen, fully dressed in his snowman pajamas that are clearly a size too small since they’re from last Christmas. There won’t be any new holiday pajamas this year. He grins. “Can you turn it up louder?”
“No,” I say, moving my phone to the kitchen table as if that will somehow make it project the music better. “This is as loud as it gets.”
My little brother makes a face but he quickly gets over it when he sees all the ingredients for sugar cookies laid out on the counter. “Where’s the sprinkles?” he says, dragging a chair over so he can stand on it and be taller.
“Where’s Mom?” I say. “We can’t start making cookies until she’s here.”
Max shrivels up like he does when he’s in trouble. “She told me she’s not coming.”
I roll my eyes. Of course she’s coming. It’s tradition. Mom, Max, and I always make Christmas cookies a couple of weeks before Christmas. We use the ancient set of cookie cutters that Grandma passed down to us and we make dozens and dozens of sugar cookies topped with sprinkles and icing and candy bits and then we snack on them, making sure to save a few for Santa on Christmas Eve.
It’s only one of two traditions we have, the other of which is going to Harris Christmas Tree Farm to pick out a tree. Mom already broke the news to us that we can’t afford the tree this year, so we’re down to one tradition. I’m not going to let it get canceled too.
I point at Max and give him a warning look. “I’ll go get Mom. Don’t you even think about eating the chocolate chips.”
I walk to Mom’s bedroom. The door is closed, so I tap on it lightly. “Mom?”
“I’m sleeping,” she calls out.
“Sleeping people can’t tell you that they’re sleeping,” I say.
“I’m about to sleep,” she calls back.
I crack open the door. Mom is lying face down on her bed on top of the sheets. She’s wearing paint splattered leggings and an old baggy T-shirt that’s seen better days. Those are her cleaning clothes.
“We’re making the cookies tonight,” I say.
“You can handle it, Jayda.” Mom rolls over in bed so that she’s no longer facing me. “I’m tired.”
“But it’s tradition,” I say. “We always make them together.”
From down the hallway, I hear Max belting out, “Let it snow!”
Mom doesn’t even crack a smile at it. If anything, she seems more annoyed.
“Jayda, I’m just not in the mood for Christmas stuff,” she says, heaving a sigh. “Please close the door behind you.”
I leave, taking a moment to breathe before I head back out to the kitchen donning a fake smile for my little brother’s sake. Mom has never been like this. She’s always been a great mother, loving and supportive, happily taking on the burden of a family after my dad left her six years ago. But she was laid off from her job as an administrative assistant four months ago, and that’s when everything started to suck.
We ran out of money quickly and Mom hasn’t been able to find a job. In order to keep the rent paid, she struck a deal with our landlord and now she cleans empty apartments for him in exchange for the rent.
Now she’s tired all the time, and grumpy, and just no fun to be around. I was really hoping that making the sugar cookies would bring all of us together again as a happy family. Cookies are supposed to summon Christmas magic, right? But I guess I’m wrong.
