“You’re a cute little shit,” I said as Adam huffed and stomped back up the stairs, but he stopped and slowly turned his head—like he suddenly realized I was there.
“Look at the bear,” he said, pointing at me.
The people in the room disappeared, and the house decor turned festive. Gold and silver garland wrapped the beams holding the stair rails, cotton towns lit up tables and hutches, and Christmas lights of all colors had been hung along the ceilings. A giant twelve-foot Christmas tree stood in the largeliving room, casting a warm, incandescent glow that beamed through the frosted windows to the darkened snow-covered deck outside behind it. Despite its size, there weren’t many presents under it.
A teenaged Adam sat alone, cross-legged on the floor, staring at his cell phone. This place was a mansion. Why in the world did we never have any money when his parents were this loaded? I crept through the house until I was standing next to him. Kid Adam didn’t seem to notice my presence this time, so I took the opportunity to sneak a peek at his texts.
He was wearing normal boy clothes, and the cornrows he’d had as a child had been shaved into a shorter, faded style that made him seem older. As a teenager, he had a very distinct appearance about him, and anyone could have probably figured him out. He wore a stylish tight black shirt with that stupid Pawlibear character on it and black track pants with two white stripes on both legs.
He sat there, staring at the message he sent, waiting for something to happen.
U said you’d be home. Where r u?
His cell phone vibrated, and a soft Christmas carol hummed through the speaker. Adam put the phone to his ear and answered.
“You were supposed to be here.”
A soft, male voice spoke through the phone, and I could hear it clearly with my sensitive ears.
“My flight got canceled. I’m sorry, Adam. I’m not going to make it home for Christmas.”
“Maya and Alyssa aren’t here. No one’s here.”
“I can’t control the weather, and I wish you’d stop calling her Maya.”
“Why? She’s not my mother. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“Bullshit. Even you don’t care. Every time you’re here, you’re always comparing me to Alyssa.” He lowered his voice. “‘Alyssa’s on the honor roll, why aren’t you? Alyssa has friends to hang out with, why don’t you have any? Alyssa got accepted to Yale, and you haven’t even considered community college.’” His voice went back to normal. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to you, you always brush me off and tell me to be more like her.”
“That’s because you’re not taking your future seriously. You’re not getting good grades—”
“That’s because I’m always looking over my shoulder. The teachers don’t like me, and everyone makes fun of me.”
“That’s high school. It may be hard, but you’re pretty lucky. I grew up—”
“In the hood, yeah I’ve heard the story,” Adam interrupted. “And with all that rags-to-riches success, you can’t even come home for Christmas.”
The phone went silent for a moment. “I’ll do what I can to get home, I promise.”
“You shouldn’t have left. It’s the last three years all over again.”
“I’m a bad father, I know. Sometimes you have to take opportunities when they’re presented, and I couldn’t pass up this client. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I’ll see you whenever you get here,” Adam said, defeated as he ended the call. He crawled over to the tree and picked through the presents until he saw one with his name on it from his dad. He pulled it to the front and rested the package against another before scooting away.
The scene unfolded like a tragedy as Adam sat next to the tree clutching the unopened present, sobbing alone in the living room. It was daylight, but there was no one else around.
“Dad,” he sobbed. “You should have been here.”
Before he could finish, an all-too-familiar school bell rang, and I found myself in a colonial-looking hallway with pillars and tall ceilings, windows overhead casting natural sunlight on tall, red lockers. A commotion echoed through the empty building, just around the corner. I walked along the waxed, tile flooring, approaching a rattling, standing locker.
“Let me out!”
That was Adam’s voice. I tried to pull the combination padlock, but my hand went through it. These visions were strange. Sometimes I could touch things, but other times I couldn’t. I stuck my head through the solid metal like a ghost until I could see Adam fumbling with his phone in the darkness.
Over-and-over again, he tried calling multiple people, but no one answered. Eventually he stopped trying and slid down against the back of the locker, folding his knees. He was small enough not to get stuck like that, but just sticking my head in there made me claustrophobic.
