The Accidentals(56)

When I get outside, he’s waiting for me. And that’s beginning to seem almost normal.

Weird.

And this is our most beautiful walk yet. Big, fat snowflakes fall on my new coat and all over Frederick’s hair. They coat the sides of trees and the shingled roofs.

“What are you and Aurora up to this weekend?” he asks. “Or is it all studying, all the time?”

“Well, today she went skiing.”

“But you didn’t go?” He pulls a pair of gloves from his pocket and puts them on.

“I’m from Orlando,” I remind him. “I don’t know how.”

“Huh,” he says, reaching down to scoop up some snow, forming a snowball. “But now you live in New Hampshire. Maybe you should learn.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have the gear. Also, I didn’t want to be the one they were scraping up off the hill all afternoon.” Looking clumsy in front of Aurora is one thing. But flopping around on my ass in front of Jake is quite another.

“We’ll have to work on that,” he says. “Maybe over Christmas break. I wanted to talk to you about the holidays, anyway.”

“Okay.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll give in to my mother and take you to Kansas City over Christmas.”

“It’s okay with me. Is it okay with you?”

“I’m not looking forward to it. Christmas isn’t really my thing, even when nobody wants to kill me. The last few years, I always made sure to be on tour.”

I laugh. “That’s a lot of effort to avoid drinking eggnog with your parents.”

Frederick grimaces. “Eggnog is a mean thing to do to a perfectly good shot of brandy. Drinks aren’t supposed to be thick.”

“Maybe Alice has calmed down by now.”

“You hear from her?”

“She writes me letters. Last month I got a box of cookies.”

“You didn’t share?”

“You were out of town. Aurora and I ate them.”

Frederick dusts the snow from his hair. “Your vacation is two and a half weeks. I’m playing a concert in California for New Year’s…”

My heart leaps.

“…so you’ll have a few extra days with Alice without me.”

“Oh, okay.” Damn. I could always ask him to take me along to the California gig, and he might say yes. On the other hand, if he wanted me there, he would invite me.

“You’ll meet your grandfather. He’s less excitable than Alice. Thank the lord.”

“What can I bring them?” I ask suddenly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “They don’t need anything.”

“It’s Christmas. I’m going to bring gifts.”

“Well. My father enjoys booze, which you can’t buy. And baseball. My mother likes to find my flaws. Does that give you anything to go on?”

“I’ll bring him a bottle of whiskey shaped like a baseball bat. And I’ll bring her a magnifying glass.”

“I guess you don’t need my help,” he says, swiping accumulated snow from the capstone of a stone wall. He makes a snowball, then hurls it at a nearby tree.

“You missed,” I point out.

“See? You and Alice will get along great.”





“So how does Christmas dinner work tonight?” Aurora asks the following weekend. We’re sitting on the S.L.O, three in a row, each with a book we were supposed to be reading.

But tonight, nobody will study.

“Dinner is served at seven, in Bartleby,” Jake says. “The meal seats the entire senior class at once. It’s a big spectacle, with ice sculptures and a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. You get the idea. And we’re supposed to steal the plates.”

“Wait, what about the plates?” I give up on my book.

“They bring out the fancy china, with the school crest in gold. And everybody swipes them.”

“Hang on,” I point at his tee shirt, which reads Nerds SQRT16 Ever. “Are you wearing that?”

Jake shakes his head.

“Oh boy,” I say. “I feel a fashion crisis coming on.”

“Sorry. I should have mentioned that everyone dresses up.”

“Dear Jake, you are usually such a useful person.” Aurora snaps her book shut, too. “But some events require extra warning. Please make a note of it.”

“You have to leave now,” I say, standing up. “Because we’re going to try on everything we own.”

Jake gets up, his eyes darting back and forth from me to Aurora. “Can I pick you up at six forty-five?”

“Hmm…” Aurora muses. “Which of us do you mean?”

Jake clears his throat. “It’s traditional to bring two dates.”

“That is an interesting tradition. One wonders how they managed for the two centuries before the school was co-ed.”

“The guy also sneaks in a flask of champagne.”

“Well, then,” Aurora says. “We will both be ready.”





I end up wearing one of Aurora’s dresses, a dark green velvet affair that looks very Christmassy. It’s a little low cut for my taste, and I have less to fill the bust line than the dress requires. But my winter wardrobe is still in its formative stages, and nothing I own will work.