or be drowned in blissful confusion, part 7
< part six
Master Post
[most recent update begins here.]
When Kris got to the home ec room, Adam was standing at a stove and stirring something in a giant soup pot. (Were they having soup at this party? He didn't remember anyone mentioning soup.) As Kris walked closer, he realized Adam was humming quietly, and also intermittently leaning over whatever he was stirring and breathing in. The whole scene reminded Kris of watching his mom cook something on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when he'd sometimes do his homework in the kitchen or just hang out with her for a while, enjoying the warmth and peace of it.
"Alicia thinks you got attacked by yetis," he said, stepping up to the stove on Adam's right.
Adam jumped a little. His eyeliner (today was an eyeliner day, obviously) made the startled look on his face more dramatic. "You're like a cat, I didn't even hear you."
"It's a ninja thing," Kris said with a shrug. "Sorry."
Adam waved off his apology. "Wait, yetis?"
"That's what she said."
"Well, at least she's moved on to a new villain. Last week it was all rabid swans, all the time. So I have no idea what it'll be next week."
"She could combine them and make Abominable Snow Swans," Kris said.
"That...would actually be right up her alley, actually."
"Are you making soup?" Kris stood up on his toes to see into the pot.
"No, it's apple cider. They wanted to have hot cider for the party, so I was going to microwave it, but then someone told me that you're not supposed to microwave those plastic jugs---" he gestured to the empty gallon jug on the counter. "They'll melt or something. So I put it in this---"
"Cauldron," Kris suggested. It seemed like the right word, or at least an amusing one.
"And I don't know how I'm going to get it back to the party, because I can't put it back in the jug, and I can't carry this pot to the other room, either, it weighs a ton and it's hot. Not the best idea in the world."
Adam was stirring as he talked, and Kris heard a metallic clanking noise and noticed that Adam was wearing a spiked bracelet on his wrist which had just bumped up against the side of the cauldron. Pot. Whatever. It had two rows of spikes, the tall, sort of cone-shaped kind, set in a black leather band. It was a little dangerous-looking, very rock and roll, and almost hypnotic to watch as Adam's hand moved in a slow circle.
"Cool bracelet," he said, in case that made his staring seem less creepy, and Adam stopped stirring, let the spoon rest against the side of the pot and looked down at his own wrist.
"Thanks," he said. "Nina gave it to me. I don't think I'm supposed to wear it at school, but it's technically after school right now, so I don't think the bracelet police are going to find out."
"Why aren't you supposed to wear it?"
Adam rolled his eyes. "The official excuse is that someone could get like, stabbed, or something. But I think it's just a stupid conformity thing, really. Spikes are a little too outside the whole...sweaters from the Gap norm, so they're evil and must be stopped."
"I like it," Kris said, reaching out and pressing his finger into one of the spikes. He didn't think anyone could really get stabbed with these. Not easily, anyway. The spike wasn't that sharp, but he could tell it was leaving a little indent in his fingertip. He wanted to glance down and look at it as he pulled his hand back, but he didn't. The idea of it felt like proof of something, like the faint impressions his guitar strings left on his fingers.
"Here," Adam said, reaching over to unbuckle it. "Do you want to wear it for a while? I keep smacking it into this pot, it's getting annoying."
He held the bracelet out at the same time that Kris rolled his sleeve up a little and offered Adam his left wrist---he had no idea why he did it, why he didn't just take the bracelet and buckle it on himself, it wasn't like he didn't know how to operate a buckle---and there was a weird little pause. During which Adam was probably wondering if Kris was really too stupid to operate a buckle. It was only a second, though, and Adam was nice and didn't act like Kris was an idiot, he just buckled the bracelet around Kris's wrist. His hands were warm and his fingertips felt soft and Kris was staring into Adam's hair because Adam was leaning forward and he closed his eyes for a moment and felt, absurdly, like humming---not a song, just a single sustained note---but he didn't, because he wasn't completely insane.
"There, now you can go start a speed metal band," Adam said, standing up straight and going back to the cider. He seemed too far away, all of a sudden, like Kris wanted to say hey, come back. For some reason his mind supplied the phrase Lassie, come home, and he reconsidered his thought about not being completely insane before replying.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Kris said, talking with half of his brain and cataloging the feeling of the bracelet with the other. It was heavier than he'd expected, but in an interesting way that made him want to move his hand around a little to test out the bracelet's weight. It didn't fit on his wrist as tightly as it was supposed to, so it slid up and down a little as he moved. The leather and metal were warm from being next to Adam's skin. "I think I'll call it Cobalt. Is that a metal?"
"Maybe? I sucked at chemistry. I know it's a shade of blue?"
"Maybe it's not a metal, then," Kris said, absently walking the fingertips of his right hand along the spikes on the bracelet. Adam was watching him, watching his hands moving, and he dropped them to his sides. (The bracelet slipped forward on his wrist as he did, and it was heavy enough that he wanted it to make a sound, a muffled clunk against his hand, but of course it didn't.) "Where are---you have cups for the cider, right?"
"This is a really bad time to ask that, but yeah, we do."
"So what if we bring the cups down here, and anyone who wants cider can come and get it?"
"Genius. We'll try to convince them it's fun, like a field trip."
"To the exciting home ec room," Kris said in his best announcer-type voice.
"I've always wanted to go there!" Adam clutched his hands over his heart like a housewife winning a cruise on a game show.
"It is...scenic." Kris regarded the classroom as dubiously as possible, which made Adam laugh. "Okay, I'll go tell everyone to come get cider, and then you can stop standing here and stirring it before all the food is gone. But there's a lot of food."
"I know. I think everyone went a little crazy about it." As he usually did, Adam said "crazy" like it was a good thing.
"I'll bring you back a cookie," Kris said.
"My hero," Adam cooed, still in housewife mode, or maybe this was damsel-in-distress mode now, whatever it was, it made Kris smile as he walked out the door, pushing up his right side sleeve to match the left, which was still rolled up above his borrowed and possibly forbidden bracelet.
He was about halfway back to room 215 when he realized he was walking differently, sort of rolling his hips. He was...sauntering, or at least trying to. He was walking like he was on his way to play an encore for a screaming crowd. Without even realizing it, he'd been thinking about his guitar, about singing. About performing and the giant electric rush of that, as he imagined it---something like the way he'd felt when he'd played "Big Yellow Taxi" with Megan, but more. His head was full of bright, chaotic images harvested from every music video he'd ever seen. He stopped short and looked down at the bracelet. He took a moment to be glad that there wasn't anyone else in the hallway, and wondered if the bracelet made Adam want to saunter, too. If it took him somewhere else in his head, somewhere with music and coloured stage lights and a rapt audience. He thought it probably did, that maybe that was the entire point of having a spiked bracelet, that it made you feel a little bit like a badass rock star even if you were just walking down an ugly beige-linoleum high school hallway on a cold afternoon.
"Oh god, the yetis ate Adam, didn't they? He's dead!" Alicia wailed as Kris walked into the classroom. She seemed distinctly zanier than usual, which had to be due to the massive quantities of sugar that were currently available. The food had multiplied while Kris was gone, and someone had brought and plugged in a boombox that was tuned to the top 40 station, which Kris found he could identify just by the version of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" that was playing.
"Yes. But I managed to save the cider," Kris said, playing along and grabbing himself a frosted cookie shaped like a Santa hat. If the GSA was on its way to a collective sugar coma, he was so not getting left behind. "Adam has it in this...cauldron thing on the stove, so whoever wants any has to bring a cup down there and get it."
"Announcement time!" Alicia said, and five seconds later she was standing on a desk yelling about cider. Kris surveyed the food and decided to bring Adam a layered cookie with powdered sugar and a little heart-shaped cutout that revealed its possibly-raspberry filling.
"You're spiky," Katy said, holding Kris's braceleted hand as they walked down the hall with the rest of the cider-acquiring party.
"Yeah, it's Adam's," Kris said, and vaguely wished he was spikier. His hair should match the bracelet, he was pretty sure. He made a mental note not to say that out loud, in case it led to the drama club's entire costume department descending on him with hair gel and manic grins.
"He gave you his bracelet?"
"Not permanently." Kris knew he could make a big story out of it, bla bla stirring cider, metal spikes, metal pot, noise, but that seemed like a lot of effort to explain something that didn't even need explaining. It wasn't like he was wearing Adam's pants. There didn't need to be any particular reason why he was wearing the bracelet, he just was, and it was actually kind of awesome, the end. Katy seemed to agree, because she didn't ask any more questions.
"Here, you take this, I'll take that," Kris said to Adam when it was their turn at the cider cauldron. He traded Adam the cookie for the ladle, the same kind of everyday juggling he'd done with Katy in the supermarket the other day. Adam would be fun to be at a supermarket with, he thought.
"You got me a linzer tart!"
Kris looked up from the cup of cider he was ladling for Katy and raised his eyebrows to say a linzer what?
Adam laughed. "I think that's what it's called. Thank you."
"Sure. Is it raspberry?"
Adam, who was mid-bite, nodded and managed to say yes, and it's good with his eyes.
"Good," Kris said, and handed Katy her cider. The bracelet's spikes bumped against the pot and made a tiny metallic noise. He met Adam's eyes, and it felt almost like the two of them were talking out loud.
Nina walked into the room, wearing a pointy green elf hat with a bell attached. Even jingling and elfy, she was a little bit imposing, but Kris was less scared of her after watching her untie Megan's shoes the other morning "I got the forks. Alicia said you were---wait, why are you at the stove?"
"Because Taryn told me you can't microwave plastic jugs," Adam said, his tone indicating that he expected this to be the beginning of a long discussion.
Kris and Katy wandered back to the party, where the radio was playing a Sears commercial and Alicia was insisting that the cake Kris had thought looked like a tree stump wasn't a log cake, it was a Bûche de Noël.
"Which means 'Yule Log' in French," the bassist of Optional Mango said. "It's a log! It has bark!"
"It's a traditional Christmas dessert and it took forever and now you can't have any," Alicia said, stepping between him and the cake, which really did have bark-textured icing. It also appeared to have mushrooms on it, which Kris was planning on investigating further when Alicia wasn't standing guard over the cake holding a half-eaten candy cane like a weapon.
The log cake didn't get cut until later---shortly after its existence prompted a group singalong of the Log Song from Ren & Stimpy, which Kris participated in gleefully, although he declined to join the ensuing Log Song conga line---and it was actually really good. Alicia explained that she'd made the bark texture on the icing with a fork, and that the mushrooms were marzipan, which was sugar, some almond, and more sugar, and Kris and Katy shared one with the air of serious secrecy of kids at a birthday party who'd managed to sneak the very last giant icing rose from the corner of the cake.
The party was like a regular GSA meeting turned up to eleven. Everything was louder and weirder, and Kris was having fun. He drank cider and played (and lost) a hand of poker-for-pretzels and ate way too many cookies. Adam was right, the linzer-things were good, as were the gingerbread dinosaurs. (Megan explained that the only cookie cutters at her house were a set of dinosaur-shaped ones leftover from a long-ago birthday party of her brother's. Kris deliberated for a while before choosing a stegosaurus with chocolate chips studding the plates along its back.) He got introduced to everyone's various plus-ones---Taryn, who turned out to be the girl from the choir room with the Jane-from-Daria haircut; Becky's brother Eric, who Kris already knew from his business class; and Rob's girlfriend Anna, who played flute in the orchestra and also ruined Kris's admittedly baseless theory that Rob and Justin were secret boyfriends. He worked on the construction of a bridge made of celery sticks, found out that Anoop wasn't in the GSA because he had a job tutoring middle school kids on Wednesdays, and explained about ten times to different people that yes, those were spikes, it was Adam's bracelet, he was just borrowing it.
Every time he bumped into Adam (the party made room 215 seem bigger, like it was easy to lose someone even though they were only ever like, twenty feet away), he meant to return said bracelet. Every time they un-lost each other, Kris watched Adam's eyes flick to his wrist, to his bracelet on Kris's wrist, and instead of returning it, he talked about what was on the radio or defended his cup of Wal-Mart brand Mountain Dew ("It's called Mountain Lightning. Mountain Lightning. It's awesome!") or offered Adam the tail of his gingerbread stegosaurus. Adam was wearing the pleased, proprietary look he got when things at the GSA were going well, which made Kris feel like a human pair of bunny slippers, all fluffy and warm and ridiculous.
When there were only about five minutes left before the after-school buses were due to leave, he figured he really had to return the bracelet before he accidentally went home wearing it, and headed over to the clump of desks where Adam was sitting with Rose and Taryn and Megan and Anoop. They were sitting close to the boom box, which was playing that song about being like a bird at lullaby volume.
Adam, very much in the lullaby, things-are-winding-down spirit, was sprawled over three chairs, his legs stretched all the way out, and he looked sleepy and happy and languid (one of Kris's vocabulary words from two weeks ago). Just looking at him made Kris want to talk really slowly, and then maybe make a chair-couch of his own and curl up for a nap.
"I guess I have to give this back," he said, giving Adam's shoulder a spiky nudge and then sort of dangling the bracelet in Adam's field of vision.
"It looks good on you," Adam said, rolling his palm over the spikes before unbuckling the bracelet. It felt both familiar and weird to let him, but Kris let him. The leather had warmed up and stuck faintly to Kris's skin, he could feel it almost peeling away from his wrist like tape or a band-aid. His wrist felt cold, and he pulled his sleeve back down.
"Very punk," Rose said, sounding approving, and it was kind of awesome that anyone thought he could wear a spiked bracelet and look anything other than stupid. "Didn't Nina just give that to you?"
Adam just nodded. He was putting the bracelet on his right wrist, and Kris was on the verge of buckling it for him---he actually raised his hands a little bit to reach out and do it---but he stopped himself. He knew if he and Adam had been alone again, he would have done it. I just want to prove to you, he would have said, and he could imagine looking up at Adam's face for a second as he said it, then going back to the bracelet, that I know how to use a buckle. I can also tie my shoes. and Adam would have laughed. But he couldn't, there were other people here, and he didn't know what it would look like, and he wanted to spike himself in the face for caring at all, for being able to feel exactly what the moment would be like and letting it pass by.
"Kris is going to start a speed metal band," Adam said, shaking the bracelet into place on his wrist.
"Ooh, we can be groupies. Kriiiis, sign my boobs," Megan said, and yawned. She was snuggled up against Anoop's shoulder.
"Oh my god," Adam said.
"Our boobs," she amended. "Sign Adam's, too."
"Yeah, that was exactly the problem I had with that statement," Adam said, and Kris could hear the laughter lurking in his voice.
"And we don't want Anoop to feel left out, so you should sign his, too."
"It would be a dream come true," Anoop said, without opening his eyes.
"We're going to miss the bus," Katy said, stepping up behind Kris and resting her chin on his shoulder.
Adam waved hello to her, and it was weird for a second to see the spikes back around his wrist when Kris had almost gotten used to seeing them on himself. "I'd offer you guys a ride, but my car is already full. I think you're going to have to lie across everyone's laps in the back, actually," he said to Rose.
"Cool," Rose said. "Everything looks so weird out the window when it's upside-down." Kris, as the shortest among his friends, had sometimes ended up lying across people in the backseat of over-capacity cars, and knew exactly what she meant. He nodded his agreement and wished he could take her place in Adam's car. Watching the telephone poles and naked winter trees fly by, dizzying and new and the wrong way around, while listening to Adam sing along with the radio sounded like the perfect way to get home.
"Thanks anyway," Katy said.
"Now go home and practice our song," Megan said. She was trying to look stern instead of sleepy, and ended up looking sort of like a grumpy blonde owl.
"Yes ma'am," Kris said, and gave her a half-assed army salute. He and Katy put on their jackets and went to the lobby with the rest of the GSA's non-car-owning members. Kris had "I'm Like a Bird" stuck in his head for the whole bus ride home.
____________
On Friday, Katy was the one who wanted to go to the music wing in the morning.
"Remember how Megan asked me to go shopping with them for dance outfits?" Katy---along with just about every other girl in school---was carrying a huge gift bag full of presents that she was giving out since it was the last day before Christmas break. Kris had pawed through it while she was putting stuff in her locker, and his wasn't in there. Which wasn't really a surprise, since they were going to see each other at church on Christmas Eve and he hadn't brought her present to school, either. "She told me like, three different dates for it, so I have to ask her which one it is."
"And we need to get her address," Kris said, pulling Katy to the left so she wouldn't smack someone with the bag of presents. "If we're going to go to the movie party thing."
"Who else is going?"
Kris shrugged. "I don't know. She just said not the whole GSA, so I guess that's why she didn't want to ask us at the meeting when everyone else was there."
When they arrived in the choir room, Megan was wearing Nina's elf hat, and Adam had a pair of felt reindeer antlers on his head.
"I know," he said, taking in Kris's facial expression. "It was a drive-by antlering. Alicia has like, a whole bag of them. Just warning you."
"I'll be careful," Kris said.
"...Kris can come, too, if he wants," Megan was saying to Katy.
"Kris hates shopping," Katy said. No I don't, Kris almost said, even though he actually did. He doubted that shopping with Adam and Megan was anything like dragging Daniel around the mall trying to buy stuff for their parents, though, and he found himself willing to consider the idea but unsure how to go about saying so without sounding like he was just being a contrary jackass.
"You should just give me your phone number," Megan said. "I'll call you when we know when we're going. It might not be until January, because Nina is going to her aunt's house for Christmas and she'll be gone for like, ever, and we need her car..."
"Sure," Katy handed her giant gift bag to Kris as she looked for a pen in her backpack.
"And you," Megan poked Adam in the arm. "Give Kris his present!"
"I don't think---" Adam said.
"But I didn't get you anything," Kris said at the same time, and they both stopped short and waited for the other person to continue.
"It's not---it's just something lame," Adam said.
"It's from both of us," Megan said. "And technically also Becky, since we were at her house and it was her aluminum foil."
Kris raised his eyebrows.
"Here," Adam said, opening the outside pocket of his backpack. "They're for your guitar case."
He handed Kris a stack of...somethings. They were cardboard and pointy, with aluminum foil glued to one side, and Kris fanned them out in his hand---there were three of them---and realized they were fake throwing stars. He couldn't help laughing.
"Seriously?" he said. "These are awesome!" He mimed throwing one in the direction of the piano, where someone was currently playing "Silent Night." (But not badly enough to justify wasting a throwing star.)
"You can actually throw them, kind of," Adam said. He was grinning. "We tried them to make sure. Becky's cat hates us now."
"That was an accident!" Megan was emphatic enough about it that her elf hat jingled. "I didn't see her!"
"Sure, that's what you say..."
Megan made an exasperated noise and flicked Adam's antlers. "Anyway, now you're all...ninja accessorized," she said.
"Thanks," Kris said, and turned to give Adam a hug. Adam made a surprised noise again, like he had the last time Kris hugged him, and Kris thought of him telling Megan don't scare Kris away and pushed his face into Adam's shoulder, like that would convince Adam that he wasn't going anywhere, that he wasn't scared, that this was all okay.
"Aww, you're welcome," Adam said. His voice was like a pillow, and he was so warm and comfortable, and he patted Kris's back in a way that made Kris remember where they were, so he pulled back and then turned to hug Megan, too. She felt much more angular in his arms, small after Adam's solidity, like she was all fluffy sweater and elbows.
"They were Adam's idea," she said into his ear, quietly enough that he was pretty sure no one else heard, like it was a secret. It felt like a secret, but Kris didn't have time to think about why before she stepped back and started talking louder. "So we have to meet up over break, okay? I'd say at the library except that we obviously can't sing there, so..."
"We can meet at my house. Maybe. I'll call you."
"Okay. And I'll call you," Megan said to Katy. "And you guys have to come to our Velvet Goldmine party or we'll all be really sad. We'll cry really glittery tears."
"We need to know where your house is," Kris said, and the warning bell rang.
Katy looked up at the clock and tugged on Kris's arm. "I have to find Dana before homeroom."
"I live on Marion Road," Megan said. "I'll give you directions later."
"Okay," Kris said, waving with his throwing star hand at Adam and Megan. "Thanks for the stars."
Kris's day alternated between classes with evil teachers who thought the last day before break was for taking tests and classes with nice teachers who realized that the last day before break was for watching Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer on a faulty VCR while eating candy canes. He didn't run into Alicia, but Katy did, because she showed up at lunch wearing a pair of antlers with tiny bells attached to the points. The way she jingled faintly as she moved reminded Kris of summer and wind chimes. He peeked into his bag every so often to look at the throwing stars, and showed them off to Charles and Paul during biology. It turned out that they actually were throwable. The posters of plant cells at the back of the classroom made good targets, and the throwing stars came away with some of their points a little bit dented, but they were still awesome.
When he got home, he grabbed a roll of tape, declined Daniel's invitation to play Tony Hawk, and went straight for his guitar case to tape the throwing stars inside. They fit right into the neck of the case, and shone against the black fabric in a way that made them look almost real. Kris couldn't stop smiling to himself, and he wanted to give Adam and Megan something in return. He kept thinking of this shirt he'd seen at the mall on Tuesday, a black button-down with tiny silver threads woven into it that had reminded him of Adam and his silver tie at the open mic. He couldn't buy Adam a shirt though, so he'd have to keep thinking about it, but first things first. He took his guitar and the "Saw Red" tabs (which he'd mostly managed to fix so they sounded right) out of the case, and considered the best way to get his parents to let him have Megan over to practice.
"I'm doing another song for an open mic," Kris said at dinner on Christmas Eve. It seemed like a good time to bring this up. Everyone was in a good mood---they'd skipped church this morning because they were going to the candlelight service tonight, which had loaned the day a lazy, playing-hooky sort of feeling. They'd had waffles for breakfast (the kind that required finding the waffle iron in the hall closet, even, instead of the freezer kind), and Kris had helped his dad fix some of the Christmas lights that were falling off the hedges, tried to wrap everyone's presents as sneakily as possible, handed his mom spices as she baked, and played Gran Turismo with Daniel while they talked about how they wished they had Mario Kart. Kris was putting out utensils for dinner by the time he realized he hadn't touched his guitar all day, and hadn't even missed it.
"That's what you've been playing all the time, then," Kris's dad said.
Kris made a face. "Sorry."
His dad---who now had a mouthful of rice---gave him an it's all right shrug.
"Anyway, it's a duet, with Megan---"
Kris's mom looked at him over her water glass. The Christmas tree was sparkling over her shoulder. "You're going to sing?"
"Yeah," Kris shoved some green beans over to the edge of his plate. "So we need to practice, and I was thinking maybe she could come over here during the break, last time we just met at school, but..."
"When would you all want to practice?"
"I don't know, we didn't really talk about it yet."
"Because you know your dad and I don't want you---either of you---having girls over when one of us isn't home."
"It's not---" like that, Kris managed to not say. Again. He also steered clear of the I have a girlfriend! Who isn't Megan! So nothing is going to happen anyway! line of reasoning, which was (in his opinion) a good one, but also might make it seem like he was saying he couldn't be trusted with Katy, which wasn't anything that he thought needed to be reinforced in his parents' minds. "We're just practicing a song, I swear. We'll stay in the living room. Daniel can chaperon us or something."
This piqued Daniel's interest, and he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Is Megan the super-tall chick with the army jacket?"
Kris rolled his eyes. "That's Nina. And she's a lesbian, so don't even think about it," he added, because he couldn't resist. His dad gave a little snort of laughter, somewhere between an uncomfortable laugh and a laugh that meant he actually thought it was kind of funny.
"Is everyone you hang out with gay now?" Daniel said, fork still in midair.
"Yeah, it's kind of like how all of your friends are...jerks," Kris finished lamely, because the words he really wanted to use weren't allowed at the dinner table. (Or ever, as far as his mom was concerned.)
"Neil, what do you think?" Kris's parents were exchanging one of those weird psychic parent-looks that was a conversation all its own. Kris tried to participate by looking as innocent as possible to prove his solely music-related intentions.
"I think it's probably okay," his dad said. "There's only so far you can get on a song by yourself."
"It starts to drive you kind of crazy," Kris said, the words rushing out of him. It was weird how sometimes he forgot that his dad knew about this stuff, knew much more about it than he did. "Because you know there's something missing---"
"But it's nothing you can fix on your own, so you get stuck," his dad said, nodding.
"All right," Kris's mom said, looking between him and his dad with a look Kris couldn't quite interpret. "But if she can come over in the evening, when everyone's home, that would be better."
"I'll ask her," Kris said. "Thanks."
"Is Megan gay, too?" Daniel said, and Kris wished they were in the school cafeteria instead of at home, so he could throw a green bean at him or something, but their dad was laughing again, and Kris's faint question-asking apprehension faded away entirely.
He played guitar a little after dinner---he only did "Saw Red" a couple times, and then switched to Christmas carols when he remembered his dad saying that's what you've been playing all the time. He wasn't sure if anyone could hear him playing right now, but in case they could, they deserved a break from Sublime. He wanted to call Megan and figure out when they could practice, and the flaw in his plan to ask his parents about this on Christmas Eve became clear. It would be weird to call her on Christmas Eve, probably, and even weirder to call her tomorrow on actual Christmas, so he'd be stuck alone with the song for a little bit longer. He thought the day after Christmas would be okay, though---that was a good day for calling people, everyone wanted to talk about what presents they got and what to do for the rest of break.
He abandoned his guitar after a while to go watch random Christmas stuff on TV. The Christmas Story marathon had already started, so they kept that on until the part when the dogs eat the Christmas turkey, which his mom hated and refused to watch. They switched to one of those weird Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer sequel movies until it was time to get dressed for church.
Kris loved the Christmas Eve candlelight service. He'd heard the Bible readings so many times that he probably could have done them from memory (And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.), but it was a good kind of familiarity, comforting and almost magical. It wasn't Christmas without this---being squished into the pew between his mom and Daniel, singing "Angels We Have Heard on High" and "Away In a Manger," the sanctuary's dim light and the slow, stately pace of the readings and hymns making him feel warm and sleepy.
The service started at 11, so by the time they'd finished singing "Silent Night" and all the candles were extinguished (the smell of the smoke and hot candle wax was part of Christmas, too, the pleasant sharpness of it stroked at Kris's spine like he was a cat someone was petting), it was a little after midnight, and therefore officially Christmas. That wasn't as exciting as it had been when he was younger, and midnight---being awake and out of the house at midnight---had seemed forbidden and wonderful and a thrill all its own, but there was still something cool about being able to mill around in the church wishing people a merry Christmas when it actually was Christmas, the day just a few candlelit minutes old.
He and Katy found each other in the crowd and shared what Kris thought of as a church kiss---quick and affectionate and slightly sheepish in a way that made it seem like they were already married or something and this stuff had become perfunctory; sort of grown-up and disappointing at the same time. It was always weird kissing her at church, just because it was church, and also because it made him feel like Dave, the guy who led the youth group, might pop up from behind a stack of folding chairs at any moment to talk to them about abstinence.
"Merry Christmas," Kris said, pulling her present out of the pocket of his jacket. The wrapping paper was a little bit battered on the edges.
"Merry Christmas," she said, reaching into her bag (Kris thought, randomly, of the time they'd made peanut butter cookies for the GSA bake sale and she'd had a jar of peanut butter in her bag) and pulling out a lumpy, vaguely rectangular wrapped thing with a red bow on top.
Katy opened her present first, and laughed as she read the piece of paper Kris had tucked into the little jewelery box, which read Good for one box of Sour Patch Kids and nothing is going to stop us from seeing a movie this time, because every time they'd tried to go to the movies since Thanksgiving their plans had fallen through. "This is so pretty," she said as she picked up the necklace, her voice all soft and hushy like they were in a jewelery store commercial.
The necklace had made Kris think of her the moment he picked it up in the store. It was a silver chain with little stars of different sizes hung from it, and it reminded him of the first time they'd kissed---like really kissed, made-out kissed---when his mom had been late picking them up from someone's house at night, and they'd stood at the curb waiting, trying to block the light from the streetlights with their hands so they could see the stars better.
That's Cassiopeia, the W-shaped thing, Katy had said, pointing uselessly into the sky. Kris had stepped closer, smushed his face against hers to try and see what she was seeing. The only one I ever remember is the Big Dipper, he'd said, voice low because his mouth was so close to her ear. She'd turned in his arms and leaned up and then they were kissing and for a little while, Kris forgot to wonder if this was allowed or if he was doing it right, it just was, and there they were, the night air cool on the back of his neck and Katy's mouth warm and lush against his and the rest of the world seeming as far away as the stars above them.
Kris had relived that moment a thousand times in the days after it happened, it just played on loop like a song stuck in his head, movie-perfect but completely real.
"Here," Kris said, and took the necklace from her. She turned around and lifted her hair off her neck, and Kris pushed her hood out of the way so he could fasten the necklace, wishing they were outside in the cold where they'd be more or less alone and he could nudge his fingertips under the neckline of her shirt and tell her she was better than mittens. She turned around again, the necklace's stars catching the light. One of them nestled perfectly in the hollow of her collarbone.
"How does it look?" she said, making a face as she tried to peer downward to see her own neck.
"Nice," Kris said, and pretended to adjust one of the stars, just to touch her.
"I love it, thank you." She kissed him again, this time a little bit softer and less brief than their usual church kisses. He glanced around to make sure no one was noticing and disapproving. "Open yours."
Kris peeled the bow off his present and stuck it onto Katy's jacket like a brooch, and then ripped opened the wrapping paper. He was confused at first---Katy bought him a belt? Were his pants falling off or something?---and then he realized this was way too big to be a belt, and it didn't have a buckle, because it was a guitar strap. A leather guitar strap, in a brown so dark it was almost black, with a sort of abstract swirly pattern etched into it, and it was amazing and a thousand times better than the boring black nylon webbing straps that had come with Kris's guitars.
"I could still bring it back if you wanted a different one, I think," Katy said. "They had a lighter brown, but I wasn't---"
"This is perfect," Kris said, transferring the guitar strap and wrapping paper into his left hand so he could hug her. "Thank you." He wanted to tell her about the flood of images just holding the guitar strap put in his head, but he wasn't sure how. It was a little like wearing Adam's bracelet had been, filling his mind with music and lights and untested, fantastical ideas. He was going to go home and put this on his guitar, and later he'd call Megan and they'd work on the song and eventually sing it at Pony Espresso, and things were going to happen. He could feel them waiting, but before any of that, it was Christmas, and he wanted to be everywhere at once, doing everything---singing quietly in his room and playing sitting around on the couch with his family and just standing here holding Katy forever.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, stepping back and smoothing out his tie, which didn't need smoothing.
"I love it. Now I wanna go home and play guitar," he said, lacing his fingers with hers and swinging their hands a little. "But it's midnight."
"It's Christmas," Katy said, and her smile was so high-wattage and adorable that Kris had to twirl her around like they were dancing.
It was a good way to start the day. (Or end the previous day, really, since Kris got home from church, played a few chords as quietly as he could just as an excuse to wear his guitar with the new strap, and then went to sleep. He dreamed about performing a concert in a cathedral where the stained glass windows were album covers that didn't exist---he was pretty sure Third Eye Blind had never released a CD called Anchovies---and when he played his guitar it sounded like a viola.)
Kris's mom had given up on elaborate Christmas morning breakfasts when Kris and Daniel were little and they'd fidget through their pancakes while staring at the pile of presents under the tree, so Kris just had cereal and some sort-of-gross microwaved bacon and sat around with his dad, channel surfing and making fun of infomercials until Daniel woke up.
His mom had managed to find him the best pajamas in the universe this year, they were black flannel with a pattern of blue and green acoustic guitars, and Daniel made fun of Kris for being a total girl when he went to put them on as soon as all the presents were opened. He and Daniel had also gotten some non-pajama clothes and some Playstation games, and Kris's dad had made him up an IOU on a post-it for a trip to the DMV so Kris could get his driver's permit.
He spent the rest of the morning watching TV and playing video games and trying to assemble his dad's new CD rack, and changed out of his guitar pajamas about five minutes before his grandparents and two sets of uncles and aunts and cousins arrived at the house for Christmas dinner. (Which didn't really count as dinner, since it happened at two in the afternoon, but but there wasn't another word to call it, something like "brunch" but with dinner and lunch instead of breakfast and lunch.) One of his aunts gave him a bookstore gift card, which made visions of new CDs dance in his head, and he also got a new cord to connect his guitar to the amp, which his dad must have told his uncle to buy him. The cord that had been in the garage with the amp kind of sucked, it crackled and hummed if it got jiggled too much.
His grandmother had knitted him a scarf and hat in tan and olive green stripes, and he remembered the dream he'd had after the open mic where Adam was holding his grandma's yarn while she knitted. Just remembering it felt like waving hi to Adam in his head, somehow.
His dad suggested they play guitar after dinner, which Kris normally would have said no to because it was weird (or weirder) to play and sing in front of family members he didn't live with, but he figured it would be good practice. Not that his grandma was the same type of audience as a coffee shop full of strangers, but it was a start. He and his dad ran through the Christmas carols they both knew, and then did "Blackbird" because it was amazing. The whole thing was a blend of awkward and kind of cool. It helped that only Kris's mom and grandma and his youngest cousin were really paying attention to them, everyone else was watching basketball or standing around the coffee maker in the kitchen. Kris's grandma told him how beautiful his voice was, and he hugged her and thought about that dream again, about his grandma saying she loved it when he sang, and then he'd sat on the dream-couch next to Adam, and it made him wish Adam was here right now, calling his mom "Mrs. Allen" and holding a mug of tea and explaining that even though he was Jewish, he still knew all the words to Christmas songs from choir. The idea made him smile.
He wished Adam were on his list of people to call tomorrow, so he could ask whether he'd gotten anything else spiky for Hanukkah and what movie his family had gone to see today. (Adam had been telling Zoe at the GSA party that his family went to see a movie on Christmas day every year.) School breaks were awesome, but not seeing Adam---or anyone else from the GSA---for a week would have sucked. The thought of the movie night thing at Megan's house made Kris feel almost relieved.
Katy called right as all of Kris's relatives were leaving, just to say hi and merry Christmas again and squeal a little bit about the fact that one of her presents had been an armchair for her room, which she'd really wanted for some reason. She was talking about it almost like it was alive, and Kris wondered if he sounded that crazy when he talked about his guitars, and promised to go to her house to see it soon.
This year's Christmas board game was some weird combination of Uno and Jenga, with both cards and plastic stacking blocks, which they set up on the coffee table after all the dishes were finally washed and put away. It took a while to figure out how all the rules worked, and by the time they finished the game (his mom won), they were all yawning even though it wasn't that late. Christmas was always like that, though, and it was a good kind of tired, one that felt as welcome and familiar as last night's candles-in-church sleepiness. Kris felt muzzy and floaty and content, the inside of his head was full of snowflakes and fireplaces, even if there wasn't any snow on the ground or a fire in their fireplace. (His dad hadn't gotten the chimney cleaned out in time this year.) He wanted to hum again, in the same nonsensical way he had when Adam had put the spiked bracelet on his wrist, just---he realized---a nonverbal way of saying yes, this, exactly this.
Kris had always wondered why December 26th was labeled on calendars as "Boxing Day." It made him think of those punching-kangaroo puppets with boxing gloves, which probably didn't have anything to do with it. His mom said she thought it was a holiday in England or something. On this side of the Atlantic, it seemed like National Phone Call day, starting right at 9 AM with a call from Kris's other set of grandparents, who were calling to ask how Christmas went and whether the box they'd sent had arrived yet.
After that---and all before lunchtime---there were calls from three more sets of relatives, two of Daniel's jackass friends, his mom's friend from church, Katy again, and Charles, who'd barely finished rattling off his list of newly-acquired video games before Kris was out the door and on his way over. When he returned hours later, full of leftover Christmas food and with his eyes practically crossing from staring at the TV for so long, the fridge was full of phone message post-its. His favourite was one that his mom had written for him that read "Joey called, he got a new bass for Christmas!!!" complete with three exclamation points and a little smiley face.
He ignored all his messages, for the time being, and brought the phone into his room to call Megan. They decided that maybe they'd meet to practice on Saturday (which Megan referred to as "New Year's Eve Eve"), and she gave him directions to her house for Thursday night, as well as telling Kris not to worry, he and Katy didn't have to wear glam rock outfits if they didn't want to.
"I don't even know what a glam rock outfit is," Kris said.
"Oh, you'll see," Megan replied, the statement hovering intriguingly in the grey area between promise and threat.
Kris (after sharing some verbal exclamation points over the phone) went to Joey's house the next day and played music all afternoon. Joey's brother, who was home from college and bored, came down into the basement occasionally to tell them they didn't suck too badly or ask if there was any mustard in the fridge or make an offhand comment about how he might be willing to sell Kris his secondary electric guitar if he got a new one after spring semester was over. The guitar in question, which was pretty beat up but a cool metallic dark blue, instantly felt a thousand times better in Kris's arms. He wanted to start talking to it, completely crazy baby talk about how maybe someday, it was going to come home with him, and it could meet his other guitars, and they could hang out in the garage. He really didn't have any grounds to mock Katy's attachment to her new armchair, which he still hadn't seen.
She was busy on Thursday, though, so Kris went to Charles's again. Charles had the most comfortable couch on the world, the sheer squishiness of it almost always lulled Kris to sleep the second it was quiet enough, so it wasn't a huge surprise when he woke up to Charles shaking his shoulder and saying, "Wake up, you're drooling on me."
"Sorry," Kris said, sitting up and wiping his mouth---and then, as an afterthought, the shoulder of Charles's sweatshirt---with his sleeve. "It's your couch, man. It's like...hypnosis or something."
"Hypnosis would be cooler, then I could make you think you were a chicken," Charles said. "And speaking of chicken, my mom wanted to know if you're staying for dinner."
"I can't," Kris said, yawning. "I have to go home, I'm going to---there's this movie night thing. For the GSA. Katy and I are going."
"You're like...hanging out with those people now? Aren't they kind of...nuts?"
"They're cool." Kris shrugged, trying not to look as annoyed as he suddenly felt. He was sleepy and grumpy, and he really didn't want to ride his bike back home, and so what if everyone in the GSA was kind of nuts? Kind of nuts was better than boring, and anyone who could spend as much time cackling over a Slinky as Charles could sort of lost their right to declare other people crazy, anyway. (Kris had a nagging suspicion that he really, really wanted to ignore that what Charles actually meant was aren't they kind of...gay? And there was just no way---no way---that he was getting into that right now, he was tired, and he had places to be tonight, but he could feel it looming on the horizon like a giant raincloud of stupidity and awkwardness, which didn't do anything to make him less grumpy.)
"If you say so," Charles said, clearly not convinced. "You're not going to watch gay porn or something, are you?"
Kris rolled his eyes and considered tossing some Cheez Doodles at Charles, but he Cheez Doodles were too lightweight to be very good for throwing, they'd just end up all over the couch and Charles's mom would get mad. "Why, did you want to be invited if we are?"
"Uh, no---"
"We're not watching gay porn," Kris snapped, then figured he'd better make a joke to counter it. "Tonight is movie night. Porn night is next week. You need to pay more attention to the schedule. Actually---what time is it?" It looked like it was already dark out, which meant his mom would be probably be annoyed at him because she hated him riding his bike at night. (Even though 4:30 totally didn't count as "night," no matter what time sunset technically was. Maybe he'd pretend Charles's dad gave him a ride so she didn't worry.) He reached under the coffee table for his shoes. "I should probably get home."
"I'll try to break it to my mom gently that you're leaving. You know she considers you the tiny daughter she never had."
"Ha ha," Kris said, grabbing a last handful of Cheez Doodles. This time---since he was standing up and gravity was on his side---he did throw one at Charles. It got stuck in the hood of his sweatshirt, which, unlike his jokes about Kris being a girl, was actually funny.
part eight >
Master Post
[most recent update begins here.]
When Kris got to the home ec room, Adam was standing at a stove and stirring something in a giant soup pot. (Were they having soup at this party? He didn't remember anyone mentioning soup.) As Kris walked closer, he realized Adam was humming quietly, and also intermittently leaning over whatever he was stirring and breathing in. The whole scene reminded Kris of watching his mom cook something on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when he'd sometimes do his homework in the kitchen or just hang out with her for a while, enjoying the warmth and peace of it.
"Alicia thinks you got attacked by yetis," he said, stepping up to the stove on Adam's right.
Adam jumped a little. His eyeliner (today was an eyeliner day, obviously) made the startled look on his face more dramatic. "You're like a cat, I didn't even hear you."
"It's a ninja thing," Kris said with a shrug. "Sorry."
Adam waved off his apology. "Wait, yetis?"
"That's what she said."
"Well, at least she's moved on to a new villain. Last week it was all rabid swans, all the time. So I have no idea what it'll be next week."
"She could combine them and make Abominable Snow Swans," Kris said.
"That...would actually be right up her alley, actually."
"Are you making soup?" Kris stood up on his toes to see into the pot.
"No, it's apple cider. They wanted to have hot cider for the party, so I was going to microwave it, but then someone told me that you're not supposed to microwave those plastic jugs---" he gestured to the empty gallon jug on the counter. "They'll melt or something. So I put it in this---"
"Cauldron," Kris suggested. It seemed like the right word, or at least an amusing one.
"And I don't know how I'm going to get it back to the party, because I can't put it back in the jug, and I can't carry this pot to the other room, either, it weighs a ton and it's hot. Not the best idea in the world."
Adam was stirring as he talked, and Kris heard a metallic clanking noise and noticed that Adam was wearing a spiked bracelet on his wrist which had just bumped up against the side of the cauldron. Pot. Whatever. It had two rows of spikes, the tall, sort of cone-shaped kind, set in a black leather band. It was a little dangerous-looking, very rock and roll, and almost hypnotic to watch as Adam's hand moved in a slow circle.
"Cool bracelet," he said, in case that made his staring seem less creepy, and Adam stopped stirring, let the spoon rest against the side of the pot and looked down at his own wrist.
"Thanks," he said. "Nina gave it to me. I don't think I'm supposed to wear it at school, but it's technically after school right now, so I don't think the bracelet police are going to find out."
"Why aren't you supposed to wear it?"
Adam rolled his eyes. "The official excuse is that someone could get like, stabbed, or something. But I think it's just a stupid conformity thing, really. Spikes are a little too outside the whole...sweaters from the Gap norm, so they're evil and must be stopped."
"I like it," Kris said, reaching out and pressing his finger into one of the spikes. He didn't think anyone could really get stabbed with these. Not easily, anyway. The spike wasn't that sharp, but he could tell it was leaving a little indent in his fingertip. He wanted to glance down and look at it as he pulled his hand back, but he didn't. The idea of it felt like proof of something, like the faint impressions his guitar strings left on his fingers.
"Here," Adam said, reaching over to unbuckle it. "Do you want to wear it for a while? I keep smacking it into this pot, it's getting annoying."
He held the bracelet out at the same time that Kris rolled his sleeve up a little and offered Adam his left wrist---he had no idea why he did it, why he didn't just take the bracelet and buckle it on himself, it wasn't like he didn't know how to operate a buckle---and there was a weird little pause. During which Adam was probably wondering if Kris was really too stupid to operate a buckle. It was only a second, though, and Adam was nice and didn't act like Kris was an idiot, he just buckled the bracelet around Kris's wrist. His hands were warm and his fingertips felt soft and Kris was staring into Adam's hair because Adam was leaning forward and he closed his eyes for a moment and felt, absurdly, like humming---not a song, just a single sustained note---but he didn't, because he wasn't completely insane.
"There, now you can go start a speed metal band," Adam said, standing up straight and going back to the cider. He seemed too far away, all of a sudden, like Kris wanted to say hey, come back. For some reason his mind supplied the phrase Lassie, come home, and he reconsidered his thought about not being completely insane before replying.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Kris said, talking with half of his brain and cataloging the feeling of the bracelet with the other. It was heavier than he'd expected, but in an interesting way that made him want to move his hand around a little to test out the bracelet's weight. It didn't fit on his wrist as tightly as it was supposed to, so it slid up and down a little as he moved. The leather and metal were warm from being next to Adam's skin. "I think I'll call it Cobalt. Is that a metal?"
"Maybe? I sucked at chemistry. I know it's a shade of blue?"
"Maybe it's not a metal, then," Kris said, absently walking the fingertips of his right hand along the spikes on the bracelet. Adam was watching him, watching his hands moving, and he dropped them to his sides. (The bracelet slipped forward on his wrist as he did, and it was heavy enough that he wanted it to make a sound, a muffled clunk against his hand, but of course it didn't.) "Where are---you have cups for the cider, right?"
"This is a really bad time to ask that, but yeah, we do."
"So what if we bring the cups down here, and anyone who wants cider can come and get it?"
"Genius. We'll try to convince them it's fun, like a field trip."
"To the exciting home ec room," Kris said in his best announcer-type voice.
"I've always wanted to go there!" Adam clutched his hands over his heart like a housewife winning a cruise on a game show.
"It is...scenic." Kris regarded the classroom as dubiously as possible, which made Adam laugh. "Okay, I'll go tell everyone to come get cider, and then you can stop standing here and stirring it before all the food is gone. But there's a lot of food."
"I know. I think everyone went a little crazy about it." As he usually did, Adam said "crazy" like it was a good thing.
"I'll bring you back a cookie," Kris said.
"My hero," Adam cooed, still in housewife mode, or maybe this was damsel-in-distress mode now, whatever it was, it made Kris smile as he walked out the door, pushing up his right side sleeve to match the left, which was still rolled up above his borrowed and possibly forbidden bracelet.
He was about halfway back to room 215 when he realized he was walking differently, sort of rolling his hips. He was...sauntering, or at least trying to. He was walking like he was on his way to play an encore for a screaming crowd. Without even realizing it, he'd been thinking about his guitar, about singing. About performing and the giant electric rush of that, as he imagined it---something like the way he'd felt when he'd played "Big Yellow Taxi" with Megan, but more. His head was full of bright, chaotic images harvested from every music video he'd ever seen. He stopped short and looked down at the bracelet. He took a moment to be glad that there wasn't anyone else in the hallway, and wondered if the bracelet made Adam want to saunter, too. If it took him somewhere else in his head, somewhere with music and coloured stage lights and a rapt audience. He thought it probably did, that maybe that was the entire point of having a spiked bracelet, that it made you feel a little bit like a badass rock star even if you were just walking down an ugly beige-linoleum high school hallway on a cold afternoon.
"Oh god, the yetis ate Adam, didn't they? He's dead!" Alicia wailed as Kris walked into the classroom. She seemed distinctly zanier than usual, which had to be due to the massive quantities of sugar that were currently available. The food had multiplied while Kris was gone, and someone had brought and plugged in a boombox that was tuned to the top 40 station, which Kris found he could identify just by the version of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" that was playing.
"Yes. But I managed to save the cider," Kris said, playing along and grabbing himself a frosted cookie shaped like a Santa hat. If the GSA was on its way to a collective sugar coma, he was so not getting left behind. "Adam has it in this...cauldron thing on the stove, so whoever wants any has to bring a cup down there and get it."
"Announcement time!" Alicia said, and five seconds later she was standing on a desk yelling about cider. Kris surveyed the food and decided to bring Adam a layered cookie with powdered sugar and a little heart-shaped cutout that revealed its possibly-raspberry filling.
"You're spiky," Katy said, holding Kris's braceleted hand as they walked down the hall with the rest of the cider-acquiring party.
"Yeah, it's Adam's," Kris said, and vaguely wished he was spikier. His hair should match the bracelet, he was pretty sure. He made a mental note not to say that out loud, in case it led to the drama club's entire costume department descending on him with hair gel and manic grins.
"He gave you his bracelet?"
"Not permanently." Kris knew he could make a big story out of it, bla bla stirring cider, metal spikes, metal pot, noise, but that seemed like a lot of effort to explain something that didn't even need explaining. It wasn't like he was wearing Adam's pants. There didn't need to be any particular reason why he was wearing the bracelet, he just was, and it was actually kind of awesome, the end. Katy seemed to agree, because she didn't ask any more questions.
"Here, you take this, I'll take that," Kris said to Adam when it was their turn at the cider cauldron. He traded Adam the cookie for the ladle, the same kind of everyday juggling he'd done with Katy in the supermarket the other day. Adam would be fun to be at a supermarket with, he thought.
"You got me a linzer tart!"
Kris looked up from the cup of cider he was ladling for Katy and raised his eyebrows to say a linzer what?
Adam laughed. "I think that's what it's called. Thank you."
"Sure. Is it raspberry?"
Adam, who was mid-bite, nodded and managed to say yes, and it's good with his eyes.
"Good," Kris said, and handed Katy her cider. The bracelet's spikes bumped against the pot and made a tiny metallic noise. He met Adam's eyes, and it felt almost like the two of them were talking out loud.
Nina walked into the room, wearing a pointy green elf hat with a bell attached. Even jingling and elfy, she was a little bit imposing, but Kris was less scared of her after watching her untie Megan's shoes the other morning "I got the forks. Alicia said you were---wait, why are you at the stove?"
"Because Taryn told me you can't microwave plastic jugs," Adam said, his tone indicating that he expected this to be the beginning of a long discussion.
Kris and Katy wandered back to the party, where the radio was playing a Sears commercial and Alicia was insisting that the cake Kris had thought looked like a tree stump wasn't a log cake, it was a Bûche de Noël.
"Which means 'Yule Log' in French," the bassist of Optional Mango said. "It's a log! It has bark!"
"It's a traditional Christmas dessert and it took forever and now you can't have any," Alicia said, stepping between him and the cake, which really did have bark-textured icing. It also appeared to have mushrooms on it, which Kris was planning on investigating further when Alicia wasn't standing guard over the cake holding a half-eaten candy cane like a weapon.
The log cake didn't get cut until later---shortly after its existence prompted a group singalong of the Log Song from Ren & Stimpy, which Kris participated in gleefully, although he declined to join the ensuing Log Song conga line---and it was actually really good. Alicia explained that she'd made the bark texture on the icing with a fork, and that the mushrooms were marzipan, which was sugar, some almond, and more sugar, and Kris and Katy shared one with the air of serious secrecy of kids at a birthday party who'd managed to sneak the very last giant icing rose from the corner of the cake.
The party was like a regular GSA meeting turned up to eleven. Everything was louder and weirder, and Kris was having fun. He drank cider and played (and lost) a hand of poker-for-pretzels and ate way too many cookies. Adam was right, the linzer-things were good, as were the gingerbread dinosaurs. (Megan explained that the only cookie cutters at her house were a set of dinosaur-shaped ones leftover from a long-ago birthday party of her brother's. Kris deliberated for a while before choosing a stegosaurus with chocolate chips studding the plates along its back.) He got introduced to everyone's various plus-ones---Taryn, who turned out to be the girl from the choir room with the Jane-from-Daria haircut; Becky's brother Eric, who Kris already knew from his business class; and Rob's girlfriend Anna, who played flute in the orchestra and also ruined Kris's admittedly baseless theory that Rob and Justin were secret boyfriends. He worked on the construction of a bridge made of celery sticks, found out that Anoop wasn't in the GSA because he had a job tutoring middle school kids on Wednesdays, and explained about ten times to different people that yes, those were spikes, it was Adam's bracelet, he was just borrowing it.
Every time he bumped into Adam (the party made room 215 seem bigger, like it was easy to lose someone even though they were only ever like, twenty feet away), he meant to return said bracelet. Every time they un-lost each other, Kris watched Adam's eyes flick to his wrist, to his bracelet on Kris's wrist, and instead of returning it, he talked about what was on the radio or defended his cup of Wal-Mart brand Mountain Dew ("It's called Mountain Lightning. Mountain Lightning. It's awesome!") or offered Adam the tail of his gingerbread stegosaurus. Adam was wearing the pleased, proprietary look he got when things at the GSA were going well, which made Kris feel like a human pair of bunny slippers, all fluffy and warm and ridiculous.
When there were only about five minutes left before the after-school buses were due to leave, he figured he really had to return the bracelet before he accidentally went home wearing it, and headed over to the clump of desks where Adam was sitting with Rose and Taryn and Megan and Anoop. They were sitting close to the boom box, which was playing that song about being like a bird at lullaby volume.
Adam, very much in the lullaby, things-are-winding-down spirit, was sprawled over three chairs, his legs stretched all the way out, and he looked sleepy and happy and languid (one of Kris's vocabulary words from two weeks ago). Just looking at him made Kris want to talk really slowly, and then maybe make a chair-couch of his own and curl up for a nap.
"I guess I have to give this back," he said, giving Adam's shoulder a spiky nudge and then sort of dangling the bracelet in Adam's field of vision.
"It looks good on you," Adam said, rolling his palm over the spikes before unbuckling the bracelet. It felt both familiar and weird to let him, but Kris let him. The leather had warmed up and stuck faintly to Kris's skin, he could feel it almost peeling away from his wrist like tape or a band-aid. His wrist felt cold, and he pulled his sleeve back down.
"Very punk," Rose said, sounding approving, and it was kind of awesome that anyone thought he could wear a spiked bracelet and look anything other than stupid. "Didn't Nina just give that to you?"
Adam just nodded. He was putting the bracelet on his right wrist, and Kris was on the verge of buckling it for him---he actually raised his hands a little bit to reach out and do it---but he stopped himself. He knew if he and Adam had been alone again, he would have done it. I just want to prove to you, he would have said, and he could imagine looking up at Adam's face for a second as he said it, then going back to the bracelet, that I know how to use a buckle. I can also tie my shoes. and Adam would have laughed. But he couldn't, there were other people here, and he didn't know what it would look like, and he wanted to spike himself in the face for caring at all, for being able to feel exactly what the moment would be like and letting it pass by.
"Kris is going to start a speed metal band," Adam said, shaking the bracelet into place on his wrist.
"Ooh, we can be groupies. Kriiiis, sign my boobs," Megan said, and yawned. She was snuggled up against Anoop's shoulder.
"Oh my god," Adam said.
"Our boobs," she amended. "Sign Adam's, too."
"Yeah, that was exactly the problem I had with that statement," Adam said, and Kris could hear the laughter lurking in his voice.
"And we don't want Anoop to feel left out, so you should sign his, too."
"It would be a dream come true," Anoop said, without opening his eyes.
"We're going to miss the bus," Katy said, stepping up behind Kris and resting her chin on his shoulder.
Adam waved hello to her, and it was weird for a second to see the spikes back around his wrist when Kris had almost gotten used to seeing them on himself. "I'd offer you guys a ride, but my car is already full. I think you're going to have to lie across everyone's laps in the back, actually," he said to Rose.
"Cool," Rose said. "Everything looks so weird out the window when it's upside-down." Kris, as the shortest among his friends, had sometimes ended up lying across people in the backseat of over-capacity cars, and knew exactly what she meant. He nodded his agreement and wished he could take her place in Adam's car. Watching the telephone poles and naked winter trees fly by, dizzying and new and the wrong way around, while listening to Adam sing along with the radio sounded like the perfect way to get home.
"Thanks anyway," Katy said.
"Now go home and practice our song," Megan said. She was trying to look stern instead of sleepy, and ended up looking sort of like a grumpy blonde owl.
"Yes ma'am," Kris said, and gave her a half-assed army salute. He and Katy put on their jackets and went to the lobby with the rest of the GSA's non-car-owning members. Kris had "I'm Like a Bird" stuck in his head for the whole bus ride home.
____________
On Friday, Katy was the one who wanted to go to the music wing in the morning.
"Remember how Megan asked me to go shopping with them for dance outfits?" Katy---along with just about every other girl in school---was carrying a huge gift bag full of presents that she was giving out since it was the last day before Christmas break. Kris had pawed through it while she was putting stuff in her locker, and his wasn't in there. Which wasn't really a surprise, since they were going to see each other at church on Christmas Eve and he hadn't brought her present to school, either. "She told me like, three different dates for it, so I have to ask her which one it is."
"And we need to get her address," Kris said, pulling Katy to the left so she wouldn't smack someone with the bag of presents. "If we're going to go to the movie party thing."
"Who else is going?"
Kris shrugged. "I don't know. She just said not the whole GSA, so I guess that's why she didn't want to ask us at the meeting when everyone else was there."
When they arrived in the choir room, Megan was wearing Nina's elf hat, and Adam had a pair of felt reindeer antlers on his head.
"I know," he said, taking in Kris's facial expression. "It was a drive-by antlering. Alicia has like, a whole bag of them. Just warning you."
"I'll be careful," Kris said.
"...Kris can come, too, if he wants," Megan was saying to Katy.
"Kris hates shopping," Katy said. No I don't, Kris almost said, even though he actually did. He doubted that shopping with Adam and Megan was anything like dragging Daniel around the mall trying to buy stuff for their parents, though, and he found himself willing to consider the idea but unsure how to go about saying so without sounding like he was just being a contrary jackass.
"You should just give me your phone number," Megan said. "I'll call you when we know when we're going. It might not be until January, because Nina is going to her aunt's house for Christmas and she'll be gone for like, ever, and we need her car..."
"Sure," Katy handed her giant gift bag to Kris as she looked for a pen in her backpack.
"And you," Megan poked Adam in the arm. "Give Kris his present!"
"I don't think---" Adam said.
"But I didn't get you anything," Kris said at the same time, and they both stopped short and waited for the other person to continue.
"It's not---it's just something lame," Adam said.
"It's from both of us," Megan said. "And technically also Becky, since we were at her house and it was her aluminum foil."
Kris raised his eyebrows.
"Here," Adam said, opening the outside pocket of his backpack. "They're for your guitar case."
He handed Kris a stack of...somethings. They were cardboard and pointy, with aluminum foil glued to one side, and Kris fanned them out in his hand---there were three of them---and realized they were fake throwing stars. He couldn't help laughing.
"Seriously?" he said. "These are awesome!" He mimed throwing one in the direction of the piano, where someone was currently playing "Silent Night." (But not badly enough to justify wasting a throwing star.)
"You can actually throw them, kind of," Adam said. He was grinning. "We tried them to make sure. Becky's cat hates us now."
"That was an accident!" Megan was emphatic enough about it that her elf hat jingled. "I didn't see her!"
"Sure, that's what you say..."
Megan made an exasperated noise and flicked Adam's antlers. "Anyway, now you're all...ninja accessorized," she said.
"Thanks," Kris said, and turned to give Adam a hug. Adam made a surprised noise again, like he had the last time Kris hugged him, and Kris thought of him telling Megan don't scare Kris away and pushed his face into Adam's shoulder, like that would convince Adam that he wasn't going anywhere, that he wasn't scared, that this was all okay.
"Aww, you're welcome," Adam said. His voice was like a pillow, and he was so warm and comfortable, and he patted Kris's back in a way that made Kris remember where they were, so he pulled back and then turned to hug Megan, too. She felt much more angular in his arms, small after Adam's solidity, like she was all fluffy sweater and elbows.
"They were Adam's idea," she said into his ear, quietly enough that he was pretty sure no one else heard, like it was a secret. It felt like a secret, but Kris didn't have time to think about why before she stepped back and started talking louder. "So we have to meet up over break, okay? I'd say at the library except that we obviously can't sing there, so..."
"We can meet at my house. Maybe. I'll call you."
"Okay. And I'll call you," Megan said to Katy. "And you guys have to come to our Velvet Goldmine party or we'll all be really sad. We'll cry really glittery tears."
"We need to know where your house is," Kris said, and the warning bell rang.
Katy looked up at the clock and tugged on Kris's arm. "I have to find Dana before homeroom."
"I live on Marion Road," Megan said. "I'll give you directions later."
"Okay," Kris said, waving with his throwing star hand at Adam and Megan. "Thanks for the stars."
Kris's day alternated between classes with evil teachers who thought the last day before break was for taking tests and classes with nice teachers who realized that the last day before break was for watching Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer on a faulty VCR while eating candy canes. He didn't run into Alicia, but Katy did, because she showed up at lunch wearing a pair of antlers with tiny bells attached to the points. The way she jingled faintly as she moved reminded Kris of summer and wind chimes. He peeked into his bag every so often to look at the throwing stars, and showed them off to Charles and Paul during biology. It turned out that they actually were throwable. The posters of plant cells at the back of the classroom made good targets, and the throwing stars came away with some of their points a little bit dented, but they were still awesome.
When he got home, he grabbed a roll of tape, declined Daniel's invitation to play Tony Hawk, and went straight for his guitar case to tape the throwing stars inside. They fit right into the neck of the case, and shone against the black fabric in a way that made them look almost real. Kris couldn't stop smiling to himself, and he wanted to give Adam and Megan something in return. He kept thinking of this shirt he'd seen at the mall on Tuesday, a black button-down with tiny silver threads woven into it that had reminded him of Adam and his silver tie at the open mic. He couldn't buy Adam a shirt though, so he'd have to keep thinking about it, but first things first. He took his guitar and the "Saw Red" tabs (which he'd mostly managed to fix so they sounded right) out of the case, and considered the best way to get his parents to let him have Megan over to practice.
"I'm doing another song for an open mic," Kris said at dinner on Christmas Eve. It seemed like a good time to bring this up. Everyone was in a good mood---they'd skipped church this morning because they were going to the candlelight service tonight, which had loaned the day a lazy, playing-hooky sort of feeling. They'd had waffles for breakfast (the kind that required finding the waffle iron in the hall closet, even, instead of the freezer kind), and Kris had helped his dad fix some of the Christmas lights that were falling off the hedges, tried to wrap everyone's presents as sneakily as possible, handed his mom spices as she baked, and played Gran Turismo with Daniel while they talked about how they wished they had Mario Kart. Kris was putting out utensils for dinner by the time he realized he hadn't touched his guitar all day, and hadn't even missed it.
"That's what you've been playing all the time, then," Kris's dad said.
Kris made a face. "Sorry."
His dad---who now had a mouthful of rice---gave him an it's all right shrug.
"Anyway, it's a duet, with Megan---"
Kris's mom looked at him over her water glass. The Christmas tree was sparkling over her shoulder. "You're going to sing?"
"Yeah," Kris shoved some green beans over to the edge of his plate. "So we need to practice, and I was thinking maybe she could come over here during the break, last time we just met at school, but..."
"When would you all want to practice?"
"I don't know, we didn't really talk about it yet."
"Because you know your dad and I don't want you---either of you---having girls over when one of us isn't home."
"It's not---" like that, Kris managed to not say. Again. He also steered clear of the I have a girlfriend! Who isn't Megan! So nothing is going to happen anyway! line of reasoning, which was (in his opinion) a good one, but also might make it seem like he was saying he couldn't be trusted with Katy, which wasn't anything that he thought needed to be reinforced in his parents' minds. "We're just practicing a song, I swear. We'll stay in the living room. Daniel can chaperon us or something."
This piqued Daniel's interest, and he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Is Megan the super-tall chick with the army jacket?"
Kris rolled his eyes. "That's Nina. And she's a lesbian, so don't even think about it," he added, because he couldn't resist. His dad gave a little snort of laughter, somewhere between an uncomfortable laugh and a laugh that meant he actually thought it was kind of funny.
"Is everyone you hang out with gay now?" Daniel said, fork still in midair.
"Yeah, it's kind of like how all of your friends are...jerks," Kris finished lamely, because the words he really wanted to use weren't allowed at the dinner table. (Or ever, as far as his mom was concerned.)
"Neil, what do you think?" Kris's parents were exchanging one of those weird psychic parent-looks that was a conversation all its own. Kris tried to participate by looking as innocent as possible to prove his solely music-related intentions.
"I think it's probably okay," his dad said. "There's only so far you can get on a song by yourself."
"It starts to drive you kind of crazy," Kris said, the words rushing out of him. It was weird how sometimes he forgot that his dad knew about this stuff, knew much more about it than he did. "Because you know there's something missing---"
"But it's nothing you can fix on your own, so you get stuck," his dad said, nodding.
"All right," Kris's mom said, looking between him and his dad with a look Kris couldn't quite interpret. "But if she can come over in the evening, when everyone's home, that would be better."
"I'll ask her," Kris said. "Thanks."
"Is Megan gay, too?" Daniel said, and Kris wished they were in the school cafeteria instead of at home, so he could throw a green bean at him or something, but their dad was laughing again, and Kris's faint question-asking apprehension faded away entirely.
He played guitar a little after dinner---he only did "Saw Red" a couple times, and then switched to Christmas carols when he remembered his dad saying that's what you've been playing all the time. He wasn't sure if anyone could hear him playing right now, but in case they could, they deserved a break from Sublime. He wanted to call Megan and figure out when they could practice, and the flaw in his plan to ask his parents about this on Christmas Eve became clear. It would be weird to call her on Christmas Eve, probably, and even weirder to call her tomorrow on actual Christmas, so he'd be stuck alone with the song for a little bit longer. He thought the day after Christmas would be okay, though---that was a good day for calling people, everyone wanted to talk about what presents they got and what to do for the rest of break.
He abandoned his guitar after a while to go watch random Christmas stuff on TV. The Christmas Story marathon had already started, so they kept that on until the part when the dogs eat the Christmas turkey, which his mom hated and refused to watch. They switched to one of those weird Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer sequel movies until it was time to get dressed for church.
Kris loved the Christmas Eve candlelight service. He'd heard the Bible readings so many times that he probably could have done them from memory (And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.), but it was a good kind of familiarity, comforting and almost magical. It wasn't Christmas without this---being squished into the pew between his mom and Daniel, singing "Angels We Have Heard on High" and "Away In a Manger," the sanctuary's dim light and the slow, stately pace of the readings and hymns making him feel warm and sleepy.
The service started at 11, so by the time they'd finished singing "Silent Night" and all the candles were extinguished (the smell of the smoke and hot candle wax was part of Christmas, too, the pleasant sharpness of it stroked at Kris's spine like he was a cat someone was petting), it was a little after midnight, and therefore officially Christmas. That wasn't as exciting as it had been when he was younger, and midnight---being awake and out of the house at midnight---had seemed forbidden and wonderful and a thrill all its own, but there was still something cool about being able to mill around in the church wishing people a merry Christmas when it actually was Christmas, the day just a few candlelit minutes old.
He and Katy found each other in the crowd and shared what Kris thought of as a church kiss---quick and affectionate and slightly sheepish in a way that made it seem like they were already married or something and this stuff had become perfunctory; sort of grown-up and disappointing at the same time. It was always weird kissing her at church, just because it was church, and also because it made him feel like Dave, the guy who led the youth group, might pop up from behind a stack of folding chairs at any moment to talk to them about abstinence.
"Merry Christmas," Kris said, pulling her present out of the pocket of his jacket. The wrapping paper was a little bit battered on the edges.
"Merry Christmas," she said, reaching into her bag (Kris thought, randomly, of the time they'd made peanut butter cookies for the GSA bake sale and she'd had a jar of peanut butter in her bag) and pulling out a lumpy, vaguely rectangular wrapped thing with a red bow on top.
Katy opened her present first, and laughed as she read the piece of paper Kris had tucked into the little jewelery box, which read Good for one box of Sour Patch Kids and nothing is going to stop us from seeing a movie this time, because every time they'd tried to go to the movies since Thanksgiving their plans had fallen through. "This is so pretty," she said as she picked up the necklace, her voice all soft and hushy like they were in a jewelery store commercial.
The necklace had made Kris think of her the moment he picked it up in the store. It was a silver chain with little stars of different sizes hung from it, and it reminded him of the first time they'd kissed---like really kissed, made-out kissed---when his mom had been late picking them up from someone's house at night, and they'd stood at the curb waiting, trying to block the light from the streetlights with their hands so they could see the stars better.
That's Cassiopeia, the W-shaped thing, Katy had said, pointing uselessly into the sky. Kris had stepped closer, smushed his face against hers to try and see what she was seeing. The only one I ever remember is the Big Dipper, he'd said, voice low because his mouth was so close to her ear. She'd turned in his arms and leaned up and then they were kissing and for a little while, Kris forgot to wonder if this was allowed or if he was doing it right, it just was, and there they were, the night air cool on the back of his neck and Katy's mouth warm and lush against his and the rest of the world seeming as far away as the stars above them.
Kris had relived that moment a thousand times in the days after it happened, it just played on loop like a song stuck in his head, movie-perfect but completely real.
"Here," Kris said, and took the necklace from her. She turned around and lifted her hair off her neck, and Kris pushed her hood out of the way so he could fasten the necklace, wishing they were outside in the cold where they'd be more or less alone and he could nudge his fingertips under the neckline of her shirt and tell her she was better than mittens. She turned around again, the necklace's stars catching the light. One of them nestled perfectly in the hollow of her collarbone.
"How does it look?" she said, making a face as she tried to peer downward to see her own neck.
"Nice," Kris said, and pretended to adjust one of the stars, just to touch her.
"I love it, thank you." She kissed him again, this time a little bit softer and less brief than their usual church kisses. He glanced around to make sure no one was noticing and disapproving. "Open yours."
Kris peeled the bow off his present and stuck it onto Katy's jacket like a brooch, and then ripped opened the wrapping paper. He was confused at first---Katy bought him a belt? Were his pants falling off or something?---and then he realized this was way too big to be a belt, and it didn't have a buckle, because it was a guitar strap. A leather guitar strap, in a brown so dark it was almost black, with a sort of abstract swirly pattern etched into it, and it was amazing and a thousand times better than the boring black nylon webbing straps that had come with Kris's guitars.
"I could still bring it back if you wanted a different one, I think," Katy said. "They had a lighter brown, but I wasn't---"
"This is perfect," Kris said, transferring the guitar strap and wrapping paper into his left hand so he could hug her. "Thank you." He wanted to tell her about the flood of images just holding the guitar strap put in his head, but he wasn't sure how. It was a little like wearing Adam's bracelet had been, filling his mind with music and lights and untested, fantastical ideas. He was going to go home and put this on his guitar, and later he'd call Megan and they'd work on the song and eventually sing it at Pony Espresso, and things were going to happen. He could feel them waiting, but before any of that, it was Christmas, and he wanted to be everywhere at once, doing everything---singing quietly in his room and playing sitting around on the couch with his family and just standing here holding Katy forever.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, stepping back and smoothing out his tie, which didn't need smoothing.
"I love it. Now I wanna go home and play guitar," he said, lacing his fingers with hers and swinging their hands a little. "But it's midnight."
"It's Christmas," Katy said, and her smile was so high-wattage and adorable that Kris had to twirl her around like they were dancing.
It was a good way to start the day. (Or end the previous day, really, since Kris got home from church, played a few chords as quietly as he could just as an excuse to wear his guitar with the new strap, and then went to sleep. He dreamed about performing a concert in a cathedral where the stained glass windows were album covers that didn't exist---he was pretty sure Third Eye Blind had never released a CD called Anchovies---and when he played his guitar it sounded like a viola.)
Kris's mom had given up on elaborate Christmas morning breakfasts when Kris and Daniel were little and they'd fidget through their pancakes while staring at the pile of presents under the tree, so Kris just had cereal and some sort-of-gross microwaved bacon and sat around with his dad, channel surfing and making fun of infomercials until Daniel woke up.
His mom had managed to find him the best pajamas in the universe this year, they were black flannel with a pattern of blue and green acoustic guitars, and Daniel made fun of Kris for being a total girl when he went to put them on as soon as all the presents were opened. He and Daniel had also gotten some non-pajama clothes and some Playstation games, and Kris's dad had made him up an IOU on a post-it for a trip to the DMV so Kris could get his driver's permit.
He spent the rest of the morning watching TV and playing video games and trying to assemble his dad's new CD rack, and changed out of his guitar pajamas about five minutes before his grandparents and two sets of uncles and aunts and cousins arrived at the house for Christmas dinner. (Which didn't really count as dinner, since it happened at two in the afternoon, but but there wasn't another word to call it, something like "brunch" but with dinner and lunch instead of breakfast and lunch.) One of his aunts gave him a bookstore gift card, which made visions of new CDs dance in his head, and he also got a new cord to connect his guitar to the amp, which his dad must have told his uncle to buy him. The cord that had been in the garage with the amp kind of sucked, it crackled and hummed if it got jiggled too much.
His grandmother had knitted him a scarf and hat in tan and olive green stripes, and he remembered the dream he'd had after the open mic where Adam was holding his grandma's yarn while she knitted. Just remembering it felt like waving hi to Adam in his head, somehow.
His dad suggested they play guitar after dinner, which Kris normally would have said no to because it was weird (or weirder) to play and sing in front of family members he didn't live with, but he figured it would be good practice. Not that his grandma was the same type of audience as a coffee shop full of strangers, but it was a start. He and his dad ran through the Christmas carols they both knew, and then did "Blackbird" because it was amazing. The whole thing was a blend of awkward and kind of cool. It helped that only Kris's mom and grandma and his youngest cousin were really paying attention to them, everyone else was watching basketball or standing around the coffee maker in the kitchen. Kris's grandma told him how beautiful his voice was, and he hugged her and thought about that dream again, about his grandma saying she loved it when he sang, and then he'd sat on the dream-couch next to Adam, and it made him wish Adam was here right now, calling his mom "Mrs. Allen" and holding a mug of tea and explaining that even though he was Jewish, he still knew all the words to Christmas songs from choir. The idea made him smile.
He wished Adam were on his list of people to call tomorrow, so he could ask whether he'd gotten anything else spiky for Hanukkah and what movie his family had gone to see today. (Adam had been telling Zoe at the GSA party that his family went to see a movie on Christmas day every year.) School breaks were awesome, but not seeing Adam---or anyone else from the GSA---for a week would have sucked. The thought of the movie night thing at Megan's house made Kris feel almost relieved.
Katy called right as all of Kris's relatives were leaving, just to say hi and merry Christmas again and squeal a little bit about the fact that one of her presents had been an armchair for her room, which she'd really wanted for some reason. She was talking about it almost like it was alive, and Kris wondered if he sounded that crazy when he talked about his guitars, and promised to go to her house to see it soon.
This year's Christmas board game was some weird combination of Uno and Jenga, with both cards and plastic stacking blocks, which they set up on the coffee table after all the dishes were finally washed and put away. It took a while to figure out how all the rules worked, and by the time they finished the game (his mom won), they were all yawning even though it wasn't that late. Christmas was always like that, though, and it was a good kind of tired, one that felt as welcome and familiar as last night's candles-in-church sleepiness. Kris felt muzzy and floaty and content, the inside of his head was full of snowflakes and fireplaces, even if there wasn't any snow on the ground or a fire in their fireplace. (His dad hadn't gotten the chimney cleaned out in time this year.) He wanted to hum again, in the same nonsensical way he had when Adam had put the spiked bracelet on his wrist, just---he realized---a nonverbal way of saying yes, this, exactly this.
Kris had always wondered why December 26th was labeled on calendars as "Boxing Day." It made him think of those punching-kangaroo puppets with boxing gloves, which probably didn't have anything to do with it. His mom said she thought it was a holiday in England or something. On this side of the Atlantic, it seemed like National Phone Call day, starting right at 9 AM with a call from Kris's other set of grandparents, who were calling to ask how Christmas went and whether the box they'd sent had arrived yet.
After that---and all before lunchtime---there were calls from three more sets of relatives, two of Daniel's jackass friends, his mom's friend from church, Katy again, and Charles, who'd barely finished rattling off his list of newly-acquired video games before Kris was out the door and on his way over. When he returned hours later, full of leftover Christmas food and with his eyes practically crossing from staring at the TV for so long, the fridge was full of phone message post-its. His favourite was one that his mom had written for him that read "Joey called, he got a new bass for Christmas!!!" complete with three exclamation points and a little smiley face.
He ignored all his messages, for the time being, and brought the phone into his room to call Megan. They decided that maybe they'd meet to practice on Saturday (which Megan referred to as "New Year's Eve Eve"), and she gave him directions to her house for Thursday night, as well as telling Kris not to worry, he and Katy didn't have to wear glam rock outfits if they didn't want to.
"I don't even know what a glam rock outfit is," Kris said.
"Oh, you'll see," Megan replied, the statement hovering intriguingly in the grey area between promise and threat.
Kris (after sharing some verbal exclamation points over the phone) went to Joey's house the next day and played music all afternoon. Joey's brother, who was home from college and bored, came down into the basement occasionally to tell them they didn't suck too badly or ask if there was any mustard in the fridge or make an offhand comment about how he might be willing to sell Kris his secondary electric guitar if he got a new one after spring semester was over. The guitar in question, which was pretty beat up but a cool metallic dark blue, instantly felt a thousand times better in Kris's arms. He wanted to start talking to it, completely crazy baby talk about how maybe someday, it was going to come home with him, and it could meet his other guitars, and they could hang out in the garage. He really didn't have any grounds to mock Katy's attachment to her new armchair, which he still hadn't seen.
She was busy on Thursday, though, so Kris went to Charles's again. Charles had the most comfortable couch on the world, the sheer squishiness of it almost always lulled Kris to sleep the second it was quiet enough, so it wasn't a huge surprise when he woke up to Charles shaking his shoulder and saying, "Wake up, you're drooling on me."
"Sorry," Kris said, sitting up and wiping his mouth---and then, as an afterthought, the shoulder of Charles's sweatshirt---with his sleeve. "It's your couch, man. It's like...hypnosis or something."
"Hypnosis would be cooler, then I could make you think you were a chicken," Charles said. "And speaking of chicken, my mom wanted to know if you're staying for dinner."
"I can't," Kris said, yawning. "I have to go home, I'm going to---there's this movie night thing. For the GSA. Katy and I are going."
"You're like...hanging out with those people now? Aren't they kind of...nuts?"
"They're cool." Kris shrugged, trying not to look as annoyed as he suddenly felt. He was sleepy and grumpy, and he really didn't want to ride his bike back home, and so what if everyone in the GSA was kind of nuts? Kind of nuts was better than boring, and anyone who could spend as much time cackling over a Slinky as Charles could sort of lost their right to declare other people crazy, anyway. (Kris had a nagging suspicion that he really, really wanted to ignore that what Charles actually meant was aren't they kind of...gay? And there was just no way---no way---that he was getting into that right now, he was tired, and he had places to be tonight, but he could feel it looming on the horizon like a giant raincloud of stupidity and awkwardness, which didn't do anything to make him less grumpy.)
"If you say so," Charles said, clearly not convinced. "You're not going to watch gay porn or something, are you?"
Kris rolled his eyes and considered tossing some Cheez Doodles at Charles, but he Cheez Doodles were too lightweight to be very good for throwing, they'd just end up all over the couch and Charles's mom would get mad. "Why, did you want to be invited if we are?"
"Uh, no---"
"We're not watching gay porn," Kris snapped, then figured he'd better make a joke to counter it. "Tonight is movie night. Porn night is next week. You need to pay more attention to the schedule. Actually---what time is it?" It looked like it was already dark out, which meant his mom would be probably be annoyed at him because she hated him riding his bike at night. (Even though 4:30 totally didn't count as "night," no matter what time sunset technically was. Maybe he'd pretend Charles's dad gave him a ride so she didn't worry.) He reached under the coffee table for his shoes. "I should probably get home."
"I'll try to break it to my mom gently that you're leaving. You know she considers you the tiny daughter she never had."
"Ha ha," Kris said, grabbing a last handful of Cheez Doodles. This time---since he was standing up and gravity was on his side---he did throw one at Charles. It got stuck in the hood of his sweatshirt, which, unlike his jokes about Kris being a girl, was actually funny.
part eight >