My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories(96)

“I’m twelve,” she said before I could ask. “I’m older than I look.”

We were walking toward the baggage claim, past a nativity scene where all of the wise men were dressed like cowboys, when the boy’s mom looked at me and asked, “So, is this your first trip to Oklahoma?”

Oklahoma.

Middle of the country. Middle of nowhere. Approximately a thousand miles from New York, another thousand from LA. It was … perfect.

“First time,” I said.

There was a long pause while everyone waited for me to do something. I felt like an animal at the zoo, an exhibit called Icelandic Girl in the Wild. But I wasn’t an Icelandic girl. And I couldn’t let them know that.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” I tried.

“My goodness,” Aunt Mary started, “Ethan said your English was good, but it’s perfect. Just perfect.”

“I watch a lot of American TV,” I said, and they all nodded as if that made sense.

“Okay, let’s get your bags.” Clint clapped his hands together.

“Oh, I don’t—” But before I could finish, a huge suitcase came around the conveyor belt, a giant sticker of the Icelandic flag plastered to the side. “I guess that’s mine.”

Clint went to grab the old-fashioned suitcase, lifting the giant thing as if it weighed nothing at all. I had to wonder how long Hulda was expected to stay.

But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t Hulda.

*

“So … Hulda?” Ethan asked, and it took an embarrassingly long time to realize he was talking to me.

“Yes, Evan?” I asked.

“Ethan,” he whispered. “My name is Ethan. You might want to remember that since you just flew halfway around the world because you are so in love with me.” I studied his profile in the dim light of the backseat of his parents’ SUV as it pulled away from the airport. His jaw was strong, and he kept his gaze straight ahead, as if trying to stare down the horizon. “You’re never going to get away with this, you know? Pretending to be Hulda.”

“Hulda is fine,” I told him. “I didn’t gag her and shove her in a closet if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, I know. She called to tell me that she didn’t get on the plane. She asked me to look out for you, and that is the only reason I’m going along with this crazy stunt. Hulda is a good person. You did her a favor, so I’m doing you a favor because…” He trailed off, then looked at me anew. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No.”

“Because if you are … if there’s something about you that brings trouble to my family—”

“I’m not in any trouble.”

“Because girls always trade plane tickets with strangers in airports. They’re always flying off to meet some stranger’s boyfriend.”

“That’s funny. According to the people in this car, you’re Hulda’s boyfriend. But Hulda didn’t think so.”

“What’s your point?”

“We all have secrets.”

He turned and stared straight ahead again. “I went on a foreign-exchange trip to Iceland last summer.”

“And…”

The corners of Ethan’s mouth turned up in something not quite resembling a smile. “What happens in Iceland stays in Iceland.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He glanced back at me. “So, what’s in it for you?”

“I didn’t want to go to New York.”

“What’s in New York?”

Aunt Mary was leaning between the front seats, talking to Ethan’s mother and father. Emily was wearing headphones—I could hear faint traces of music as she closed her eyes, fading in and out of sleep. Ethan and I were alone in the last row, but the SUV was too quiet. Someone might overhear. Get suspicious. Find out.

I swore right then that no one would ever find out.

“I needed to get away, okay? I saw my chance, and I took it. I’ll be out of your hair, and you can start mending your broken heart or whatever just as soon as we stop. I will disappear, and you will never have to see me again.”

I expected him to protest, to complain that I was putting him in an impossible position. I didn’t expect him to actually say, “You can’t just run away.”

But I was not in the mood to hear what I couldn’t do. The list had been too extensive for too long.

You can’t eat that.

You can’t go there.

You can’t be this.

Ethan didn’t know that I was in that SUV-bound-to-nowhere because I had solemnly sworn to never let anyone tell me what I could or could not do ever again, so I leaned closer. “Watch me.”

But he only laughed. “No. You don’t understand. I know my father, and there is no way this vehicle stops until we get home.”

“So I’ll split as soon as we get there.”

But that must have been hilarious, because Ethan just laughed harder.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, but he sank lower in his seat, closed his eyes and whispered, “You’ll see, Not Hulda. You will soon see.”

*

In case you were wondering, by “soon” Ethan meant four hours later.