“I’m celebrating Saturnalia,” Fox said.That did seem kind of fitting since they were wearing a toga and, in concession to the cold, a knee-length parka.Fox had optednotto decorate any cookies—which, since they were the only actual artist in the group, I found highly suspect.Instead, they were eating the cookies.They had a predilection for the snowflakes (again, big surprise).
Millie—in charge of the Christmas tree-shaped cookies—was dabbing little yellow dots of frosting on top of a layer of green (the lights, you know) as she said, “Going home for Christmas is the BEST.You HAVE to go home for CHRISTMAS.Right, Keme?”
Normally, this kind of prompting would have at least provided a spot of entertainment.But ever since Millie and Keme had officially moved from friends to—well, whatever kids were calling it these days (Hanging out, maybe?)—their interactions had taken on a new dynamic.Before, Keme would have spent the entire cookie-decorating session sneaking looks at Millie, and a question from Millie—any sort of attention from Millie, as a matter of fact—would have jump-started all sorts of teenage hormones.Now, he just stared at her with a kind of open-mouthed, puppy-eyed adoration, a cookie forgotten in one hand.
(He’d been put in charge of the stars because, well, straight boy.Honestly, he wasn’t doing too bad.)
I know Indira’s not psychic.I mean, IthinkI know.But the next time she looked at me, it had enough mental oomph to just about knock me out of my chair.
“Uh, yeah,” I said.“I guess wearetalking about it now.”And then, in a burst of grade-A, genuine courage, I punted.“Didyouwant to go home for Christmas?”
Fox snorted.
Indira sighed.
Millie and Keme were trying to smear frosting on each other’s noses and giggling uncontrollably.
And Bobby, because he’s Bobby, said, “Whatever you want to do.”
I love Bobby.I love everything about him.I love the fact that he can say things like that without the slightest hesitation.Without even a hint of self-consciousness.And he can just go on meticulously applying frosting to a snowflake-shaped cookie like it’s the most important job in the world.
But sometimes—justsometimes—it would be nice if he didn’t say things that twisted my brain into a pretzel.
“Right,” I said.I tried to focus on my cookies—I was in charge of the reindeer ones, they were turning into a reindeer massacre.And then, because I couldn’t come up with anything better, I said again, “Right.”
“I’ll be celebrating Saturnalia at my house,” Fox said.“In case anyone’s wondering.”
“Keme,” Millie said, “WE should go to Saturnalia!”
Fox’s eyes got nice and big atthatannouncement.“Well, actually, the legal drinking age—”
“Dash is asking if you want to spend Christmas with your parents,” Indira said with atone.“And if you want him to go with you.”
Bobby frowned as he carefully layered on more frosting.Then, apparently satisfied with the result (yet another perfect snowflake), he looked over at me.
“I mean,” I said, “if you want.”
“Doyouwant to spend it with my family?”Then Bobby’s frown deepened.“I assumed you didn’t want to spend it with your parents because you didn’t bring it up, but do you want to go home?I’d love to spend Christmas with your family.”
“Oh,” I said.“Oh!No.No, no.No, no, no.I mean, it’s way too late now to buy tickets, and everyone knows how bad holiday travel gets…” I trailed off.And then, just for emphasis, I laughed.To show how silly the whole thing was.And then, for further clarity, I added, “Absolutely not!”
Bobby’s eyebrows went up.
“Saturnalia was an ancient Roman holiday—” Fox began.
“Everyone knows what Saturnalia was,” I snapped.“We get the point!”
In the silence that followed, you could have heard a cookie crumble.
“You know what?”Bobby said slowly.“Christmas isn’t a religious thing for my family—it’s not a big deal.”
“Oh,” I said.“Great.”
“And I don’t have a lot of time off because we’re so short-staffed.”
I grabbed a Santa cookie and gobbled it.“Ugh.That’s awful.That’s so unfair.”
“Maybe don’t cram a cookie in your mouth with relief next time,” Fox advised.
