had backed away, revolted.
Weirdly, Chase now understood what his dad meant. What that need felt like.
After driving by the grocery store for the second time, he stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a coffee and to collect his thoughts. Where would a mysterious, beautiful woman spend the day before Christmas? He drove to the downtown plaza that held a nail salon, a hairdresser, a Reel Time movie theater, and Pete’s Pizza. He took a deep breath and walked into the nail salon, craning his neck to see who was sitting at each station. No luck.
A surly woman at the counter sized him up and asked, “You need a manicure, handsome?”
“No, I was just looking for someone,” Chase said, turning and walking out of the store. This was ridiculous. There was no way he was going to find Ty. But still the need was there, stronger than ever. A need he couldn’t explain. It was strongerthan any crush he’d ever had. She was unlike any other girl, and he couldn’t shake her from his mind. She haunted him.
“Hey, Singer—getting your nails done for Christmas?” Chase turned to see Andy Barton, Sean Wagner, and Nick Toll, fellow juniors on the football team, walking toward him. Chase noticed the place was called Princess Nails. Perfect.
“No, assholes. Just looking for . . . my mom,” Chase said.
“She got a job here now? Upgrade!” Andy laughed. Chase did not.
“Too bad you never upgraded from sitting on the bench, Barton,” he said, thrusting out his chest ever so slightly. The others snickered. “I gotta go. See you guys later,” Chase said, already walking toward the station wagon.
He could hear the boys still laughing as he got into his car, but just before he closed the door, he heard Sean call out, “Merry Christmas, princess!” He rolled his eyes and gave them the finger as he drove away.
Chase woke late the next day and read a note on the counter from his mom.
Merry Christmas, sweetie! Sorry I had to work today, but you know I can’t resist the overtime! Don’t touch your presents until tomorrow, like we agreed, okay? We’ll have a special Day-After-Christmas celebration. Xoxo, Mom. PS—here’s some cash for Chinese food.
Chase stared at the thirty dollars and felt guilty. For as longas he could remember, his mom had worked shitty hours at shitty jobs. He knew it was all for him—so that he could go to school and play football and not worry about getting a part-time job. But thirty dollars was too much for Chinese food—it was like she was trying to prove something to him. It was just depressing.
The afternoon moved slowly. There was nothing on the three channels that came in on the trailer’s tiny TV, and Chase didn’t want to go out and risk being seen alone on Christmas Day. He avoided the computer.
It was hot in the trailer, so he wore just sweats. He stared at his chest in the mirror for a minute, to see if all the working out he’d been doing this fall was getting him anywhere. Then he did a hundred push-ups on the cluttered living room floor. Finally, he was so desperate for entertainment that he flopped onto his bed with
Macbeth
, which had been assigned as winter break reading.
When shall we three meet again?
Good question,
Chase thought.
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
And then, out of nowhere, there was a knock on the door. Chase jumped a bit, surprised that anyone would be visiting on Christmas. He bet it was their neighbor Mrs. Simpson, who asked for Chase’s help every time her pilot light went out.
“Coming,” Chase called out, tossing
Macbeth
to the ground.
When he opened the door, Ty was standing on the trailer’s sagging stoop, smiling and holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. She was wearing a dress the color of the snow, which made her brilliant hair stand out like blood against the landscape.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “Look! I come bearing gifts. Like one of the wise men.” She held out the cup.
Chase was so surprised, he couldn’t move or speak. Ty
Weirdly, Chase now understood what his dad meant. What that need felt like.
After driving by the grocery store for the second time, he stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a coffee and to collect his thoughts. Where would a mysterious, beautiful woman spend the day before Christmas? He drove to the downtown plaza that held a nail salon, a hairdresser, a Reel Time movie theater, and Pete’s Pizza. He took a deep breath and walked into the nail salon, craning his neck to see who was sitting at each station. No luck.
A surly woman at the counter sized him up and asked, “You need a manicure, handsome?”
“No, I was just looking for someone,” Chase said, turning and walking out of the store. This was ridiculous. There was no way he was going to find Ty. But still the need was there, stronger than ever. A need he couldn’t explain. It was strongerthan any crush he’d ever had. She was unlike any other girl, and he couldn’t shake her from his mind. She haunted him.
“Hey, Singer—getting your nails done for Christmas?” Chase turned to see Andy Barton, Sean Wagner, and Nick Toll, fellow juniors on the football team, walking toward him. Chase noticed the place was called Princess Nails. Perfect.
“No, assholes. Just looking for . . . my mom,” Chase said.
“She got a job here now? Upgrade!” Andy laughed. Chase did not.
“Too bad you never upgraded from sitting on the bench, Barton,” he said, thrusting out his chest ever so slightly. The others snickered. “I gotta go. See you guys later,” Chase said, already walking toward the station wagon.
He could hear the boys still laughing as he got into his car, but just before he closed the door, he heard Sean call out, “Merry Christmas, princess!” He rolled his eyes and gave them the finger as he drove away.
Chase woke late the next day and read a note on the counter from his mom.
Merry Christmas, sweetie! Sorry I had to work today, but you know I can’t resist the overtime! Don’t touch your presents until tomorrow, like we agreed, okay? We’ll have a special Day-After-Christmas celebration. Xoxo, Mom. PS—here’s some cash for Chinese food.
Chase stared at the thirty dollars and felt guilty. For as longas he could remember, his mom had worked shitty hours at shitty jobs. He knew it was all for him—so that he could go to school and play football and not worry about getting a part-time job. But thirty dollars was too much for Chinese food—it was like she was trying to prove something to him. It was just depressing.
The afternoon moved slowly. There was nothing on the three channels that came in on the trailer’s tiny TV, and Chase didn’t want to go out and risk being seen alone on Christmas Day. He avoided the computer.
It was hot in the trailer, so he wore just sweats. He stared at his chest in the mirror for a minute, to see if all the working out he’d been doing this fall was getting him anywhere. Then he did a hundred push-ups on the cluttered living room floor. Finally, he was so desperate for entertainment that he flopped onto his bed with
Macbeth
, which had been assigned as winter break reading.
When shall we three meet again?
Good question,
Chase thought.
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
And then, out of nowhere, there was a knock on the door. Chase jumped a bit, surprised that anyone would be visiting on Christmas. He bet it was their neighbor Mrs. Simpson, who asked for Chase’s help every time her pilot light went out.
“Coming,” Chase called out, tossing
Macbeth
to the ground.
When he opened the door, Ty was standing on the trailer’s sagging stoop, smiling and holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. She was wearing a dress the color of the snow, which made her brilliant hair stand out like blood against the landscape.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “Look! I come bearing gifts. Like one of the wise men.” She held out the cup.
Chase was so surprised, he couldn’t move or speak. Ty
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