“Eliza, I can’t believe you right now.” She shook her head, hands on her hips. She still wears her yoga pants and jacket from her run around the neighborhood. “What is all this about? Do you feel okay? Is something going on at school?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
I turned away from her, ripping the glove off my right hand to wipe away the sweat. “It’s justMonstrous Seastuff. You don’t have to worry about it.”
She goes quiet. I pull the glove back on and start working on the next panel. The hairs on my neck stand up.
“Your dad and I are really proud of you for that, you know,” she says. “I know we don’t really get it, but we’re proud of you. And we’re happy you love to make it. We only annoy you because we’re worried about you.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Will you come down and open your presents, at least?”
I swivel to look at her again. “Presents?”
“Yes, Eliza. It’s Christmas.”
I stare, sure she must be joking, then glance back at the computer screen and find that no, it really is December twenty-fifth. The realization almost jolts me out of my chair.
“It’s Christmas?” My own voice sounds like a dying goat bleat in my ears. I thought it was two days away. Or two days ago. Either way.
She nods. “We went ahead and let your brothers open their gifts, because we weren’t sure if you were coming down. Or when.”
“Oh.”
“So, are you?”
“I ... yeah, I’ll be down in a minute. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. There are some hard-boiled eggs in the fridge for you when you’re ready for them too.”
She leaves.
I stare at the clock on my computer.
12/25.
I actually check the messages on my phone, and realize Emmy and Maxhavebeen talking to me. Both of them said Merry Christmas, and asked what’s been going on, and they’ve been talking to each other about their breaks. I send a few quick messages to them, then put the phone away and hurry downstairs. Mom and Dad wait for me in the living room, where the tree is set up. Dad has the video camera.
“Sorry,” I say again.
“That’s okay, Eggsy,” Dad says. “Why don’t you go open what Santa brought you, and then we can get your brothers back down here for some board games.”
I do open what Santa brought me. I know it’s from Santa becauseSANTAis printed on all the tags in my mom’s curly handwriting. Most of it is new clothes. Clothes that will actually fit me.
“You were complaining about not having anything to wear last month,” Mom says, “so I thought I’d get you some things. We can get some more in the spring, and then you’ll have a whole new wardrobe for college. Don’t worry, though—I saved the receipts, so if you don’t like them we can take them back.”
“Thank you,” I say, quietly enough so they can’t hear my voice break.
It’s the first time I’ve actually been happy to get clothes for Christmas. I didn’t ask for anything, because whatever I need I can buy for myself, except clothes. Clothes shopping does not work for me. Mom and I fold them all up in their boxes, and I take them upstairs to my room, where I grab the only Christmas present I could think to get anyone in my family: Monopoly. It takes so long to play, their family togetherness would never have to end.
Dad drags Church and Sully out of their room and forces them to play. They complain at first, until they realize they can bankrupt each other. Mom wins, because she’s the only one inthe family with any money sense. It takes like four hours. We eat dinner. Then Dad makes cookies, and we all sit down and watchMiracletogether.
I didn’t even know it was Christmas.
Faren turned the book over in his hands.Earthen Fairy Tales. The first book Amity had ever liberated from a shop, the one she’d used to learn to read. Faren let the book fall open on its strongest crease and there, on the middle of the right page, was her name.
