The Holiday Switch(45)

Wouldn’t you know, everyone is in their bedrooms. Except for Irene. She’s on my bed, half asleep.

The first thing that comes to my mind: write a blog post.

The second thing: I have a new computer.

It’s still under the tree, so I grab it and open the box. I run my hand over the unmarred, sleek and silver top and open it to a pristine keyboard. And when I press the on button, it wakes with a soothing chime.

The rest of the installation and updates happen in a breeze. After, I log on to the dashboard of my blog. More comments await my reply, the newest submitted once again from Santa with a View, sent just ten minutes ago.

Again, it’s a link to the BookGalley internship.

“What a nag.” Still, I click on the link, which leads me to the page once more. This time, I settle in and read through the qualifications: at least eighteen years old, good organizational skills, interest in books, avid reader, can work with documents and spreadsheets. It’s followed by a simple form, which acts as a cover letter, and a prompt for a five-hundred-word essay, much like the college essays I filled out in the last five months. Finally, there’s an upload button for a résumé or a CV, which I have worked on as part of college prep class last semester. The deadline to submit the application is the twenty-sixth. Tomorrow.

    I am definitely qualified. Especially if I link to my blog as part of my résumé.

What does it say about who I want to be if I apply? Science versus the arts. Medicine versus writing. While applying isn’t the nail in the coffin, by doing this, I’m pulling all the plywood out. I’m getting the hammer ready.

It’s tempting.

Suddenly, the house seems to wake, with one of the twins complaining that they’re hungry.

It’s the push I need, and the pressure jolts my body forward. With swift fingers, I type in my contact info and cut and paste one document into another. I upload my photo and CV and heave a breath. I’m about to match my name with my blog. There’s no turning back. After I make this connection, I will no longer be anonymous.

Usually, I only make decisions after tons of research. I consult with others. I take my time. But somehow with encouragement from Carm, Teddy, and even this anonymous Santa with a View, it’s enough.

I shut my eyes and press send.

My phone beeps with an email confirmation that my résumé has been sent. All at once my heart rate doubles.

Holy crap, I did it.

I did it.





SUNDAY, DECEMBER 26

Teddy: What are you wearing?





Lila: ?

Clothes?





Teddy: Yeah, thanks smartie. For real





Lila: Like right now?





Teddy: No. For dinner tonight





Lila: I’m not thinking that far ahead

I’m helping my mom cook





Mom shoves a spoonful of stuffing into my mouth, successfully distracting me from Teddy’s texts. “Taste this.” The stuffing is just shy of piping hot, and I chew while sipping air. Still, the flavors pop. Apples and leftover cubes of liempo and onion, mixed in with toasted day-old homemade bread. “Well?”

    “It’s perfect.”

“You think?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“All right, time to put it in the warmer.” Mom sticks the entire stainless-steel pan into the oven, where a ham pot pie and stir-fry green beans already reside. On the stove is a small pot of gravy, just finished, with mashed potatoes. Cooling under tin foil is embutido made with leftover shredded chicken. She eyes her watch. “And right on time for my shower. Can you handle the kitchen until guests arrive?”

I raise an eyebrow. “How many parties have I helped you pull off?”

“You’re right.” She cups my face with both her hands and kisses me on the forehead. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave for college. Who’s going to help me keep this place a little less chaotic?”

Except for the dishes piled up in the sink (the dishwasher is already running), the house is party ready. I took my turn in the shower this morning, so all I have to do is jump into fresh clothes when Mom’s all done.

If Teddy thinks Ms. Velasco is too precise with her opening and closing checklists, he’s going to have another thing coming when he meets my mother, who has every event planned to a T.

At the thought of Teddy, my cheeks flush. Our texts have been nonstop. But now he’s coming to my house. My. House. “Did anyone cancel?” I ask, wincing on the inside. In truth, I both hope and don’t hope that he decides to come. Texts and photos are one thing, but in person…

    “Still expecting five people. Lou and Teddy, Carm, Frank, and Trish. Super easy guest list.” She unties her apron. “Have you worked with Teddy since you’ve trained him? Is everything better?”

“What do you mean better?”

“Irene told me that he was giving you some problems.”

Of course. I roll my eyes. “She’s such a snoop. How does she even know?”

“Your siblings are very observant, and anyway it shouldn’t be something you keep from me. I want to be able to support you if you’re struggling.”