Their room was weird—the personal things on the walls and desktop were still there. Things like posters and framed photos. Their beds were made (which was not the norm for Jane, but was for Lily). But there were gaping holes in their closets from clothes they’d taken home. And their desks had spaces where their laptops usually were, and where they charged all their stuff.
I checked the lock on their door, then went back to my room, leaving the door on the connecting bathroom unlocked.
I threw my coat on the back of my desk chair, then saw a small gift-wrapped package on my pillow.
Oh, great. We’d agreed not to exchange gifts. I wasn’t sure if that was a pity move on Jane and Lily’s part, so as to spare me the expense, or if they just didn’t want to bother during finals.
I had adhered to our agreement, but it looked like Lily hadn’t. Crap. I hated feeling like a charity case.
My issue, I knew, but…still. It was bad enough to feel it every time I pulled a shift at the admin building, as part of the work-study program.
But the present wasn’t from Lily, it was from Jane. I unwrapped it slowly, knowing it would be the only Christmas gift I received.
My mother had clearly stated that there would be no money for a gift for me since I’d been selfish enough to leave and force her to find childcare for Duncan and Liam, which I’d done after school.
It was meant to make me feel guilty—and it had. But it also gave me a moment of delicious spite, knowing my mother would have to step up and take the place I’d been holding down for her for the past five years.
To hell with Christmas presents. It wasn’t like she ever gave me much anyway.
Inside the small box was a silver medallion on a thin, beautiful silver chain. I held it up, letting it twist this way and that as the chain unraveled. It was some kind of symbol with rounded squares and ovals intertwined and a kind of loopy thing in the middle. It was different, and pretty, but not at all delicate.
I pulled out the card Jane had shoved at the bottom of the box. The handwriting was strong and bold—like Jane herself.
It’s the Celtic symbol for strength. You’ve got it, babe, let people know it. Plus, your name is O’Brien, you should be rockin’ some Celtic stuff.
Weird. Jane and I had started off rocky, but had come to get along well. Throughout the whole semester, we’d never had any really deep talks, though. Certainly none about our inner strength.
I put the necklace on and looked at myself in the mirror. I had carefully transformed myself to look like nearly every other girl on campus. Straightened long hair, worn either down like I had it now, or up in a sloppy bun. Subtle makeup, so it didn’t look like I was trying. A North Face jacket, now hanging on the back of my chair. A hoodie, Lulus and Uggs.
A true Bribury Basic.
I took my hoodie off, throwing it on my bed, so I could see the pendant against my skin. I had on a low-vee, long-sleeved tee in fuchsia and the silver chain and pendant seemed to almost glow against my skin. Darker—much—than my mother’s other children, I certainly didn’t look like someone with the name O’Brien.
But, there were a lot of other ethnic-looking students here at Bribury. In fact, looks-wise, I stood out way more in my Irish Catholic neighborhood of Woodside, than I did here.
So, ethnic looking, yes…but which ethnicity? My mom would never answer any questions about my father, so I wasn’t sure if I was half Hispanic, Italian, Middle-Eastern, or what.
I guessed it didn’t matter, but it would have been cool to know my roots.
I ran a hand under the chain, lifting it off my skin so it caught the light from my desk lamp. I didn’t know what kind of message Jane was trying to send, but I did like the necklace. I hadn’t seen any girls at Bribury wearing anything like it, and that kind of made me nervous to wear it.
But then I thought about Jane taking the time to pick this out because, for some reason, she wanted me to know she thought I was strong, and I decided it would be something I’d wear. Often. Maybe always.
I grabbed my phone out of my backpack, unpacking my other stuff too. The term paper from Montrose’s class came out in my last handful and I placed it on the desk in front of me.
In a way, it was another present to open—to read all of his comments. Especially now that I knew he so diligently read these papers. He must, if he’d remembered so many details about me from previous papers.
I rubbed my hand along the front page, but before I indulged myself I texted Jane.
Thanks for the necklace. It’s beautiful, and I love it.
Glad you liked it.
We said no gifts!
I know. I hadn’t planned on it, but I saw this and thought of you.
I wanted to ask her why. What about the Celtic symbol of strength said “Syd” to her? Other than the Irish thing.
