a tiny update and OMG podfic!
Happy two days after Christmas, dear readers! (Or, if you don't celebrate Christmas, happy December 27th/Monday/etc.) First and foremost, I am thrilled to announce that the amazingly talented paraka has decided to turn this shaggy patchwork beast of a fic into a podfic, the first 22 minutes of which can be downloaded here. You should definitely have a listen and tell her how fantastic it is---her reading is gorgeous and makes this story sound so, so much better than it actually is.
Second, here is a bite-sized, 100% pure fluff Christmas cookie of an update. I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season, and thanks so much for reading and all of your wonderful comments and being here in this crazy 'verse with me. ♥
As ever, thanks to adelate for all of her fairy-godmothering, and also to dollydolittle for some pertinent information about movie theatres on Christmas.
[in context here.]
"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 pettting), 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.
Second, here is a bite-sized, 100% pure fluff Christmas cookie of an update. I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season, and thanks so much for reading and all of your wonderful comments and being here in this crazy 'verse with me. ♥
As ever, thanks to adelate for all of her fairy-godmothering, and also to dollydolittle for some pertinent information about movie theatres on Christmas.
[in context here.]
"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 pettting), 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.