Winter Break (Chasing Chase London #6)

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“All I Want For Christmas Is You”—Mariah Carey

“One turkey, rested and ready for carving,” Uncle Carl announces, sweeping into the room with his apron still tied around him, beaming like he just solved all the world’s problems instead of cooking a giant bird. Uncle Frederick follows, his thick arms bulging under the weight of the platter.

“Your dad’s so scrawny he can’t carry a turkey,” I mutter to Meghan, kicking her foot under the table.

A second too late, I realize she can make a Your Dad joke back and ruin dinner the way I ruined breakfast, and my smile dies.

Before she can, Uncle Seamus clears his throat and scoots back. “It’s not carved yet?” he croaks. His dark complexion has gone a little green. I’ve never seen him out of a suit except on Christmas morning, when he participates in the family pajama portrait. The rest of the time, he looks like a distinguished gentleman who should be named Professor Cumberbatch or playing the role of the owner of a chicken franchise in Breaking Bad . The only thing that ruffles him is the sight of bones.

“If you want to wait in the kitchen, I’ll get you when we’re done carving,” Frederick says.

Seamus gives him a dark look. “You could have carved in the kitchen.”

“It’s all about the presentation,” Frederick says, giving him a pointed look, as if to remind him we’re in a room full of not just his siblings and their families, but a few cousins and their families as well.

When he as he sets down the huge bird, roasted to golden perfection, Seamus visibly stiffens, then stands and stalks off to the other room. Because of his cartilogenophobia, Dad always carved the meat in the kitchen and brought in a platter with the meat already sliced. That’s just the way it’s always been done. Guess I’m not the only one upset about traditions being ruined by Dad’s absence.

The room is filled with the sound of the electric carving knife for a few minutes, which is a blessing, since everyone is too awkward to make conversation after witnessing the tension from the change in procedure. At last, Lily points to the platter, sitting up on her feet. “Can I have the drumstick?”

“No, sweetie,” Mom says. “It has a bone in it.”

“But I had one at Thanksgiving,” my sister points out, pouting at Mom.

“Uncle Seamus wasn’t at Thanksgiving,” Mom reminds her with a warning smile. “Now sit on your bottom, not your feet.”

“That’s not fair,” Lily cries, thudding her butt into the chair.

“I know it’s not, honey,” Uncle Frederick says. “How about we cut the meat off the drumstick for you? We’ll carve it right on your plate, so you know you got the whole thing.”

“It’s not the same,” Lily yells. “That’s not the drumstick!”

Mom looks embarrassed, but I feel only sympathy as tears fill up my sister’s eyes. Why can’t anyone else understand that you can’t just make substitutions and act like it’s all okay? A pile of meat is not a drumstick. Mom’s orange rolls are not Dad’s orange rolls.

I wish I was sitting next to my sister so I could tell her I understand. But I bite my tongue and watch Mom scold her. “If you can’t behave yourself, you can eat in the kitchen by yourself.”

“Can I have the drumstick?” Lily blubbers, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I push back my chair. “I’ll eat with you, Lilypad,” I say, standing and holding out a hand. “Come on. We’ll have turkey drumstick Christmas together.”

“Sky,” Mom says, frowning at me.

“What?” I ask. “She’s six. She doesn’t understand phobias. She barely remembers last Christmas.”

Lily slides out of her chair and runs around the table to throw herself at my legs, burying her face to hide her tears. I pick her up and carry her in the other room. I guess I’m not the only one causing scenes this year. At least Lily has an excuse. She’s a little kid who probably stayed up half the night in her excitement about hearing Santa on the roof. But whatever. It’s not like either of us could ruin Christmas more than Dad already has.

I’m relieved when dinner’s over and we can go to bed and put the whole shitty day behind us. The next morning, Frederick comes knocking just before noon.

“Hey, girls,” he says, poking his head through the door. “Y’all want to go shopping? Me and the girls are heading down to Little Rock to hit the after-Christmas sales.”

“And buy into the consumerism on yet another day of material gluttony?” Meghan asks, sounding bored. “No thanks.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound as cool as her, and not like I can’t go shopping because I’m broke and I know Mom is too, but that she’d insist on buying me things we can’t afford so no one would catch on. “I’m not really into that, either.”

“Don’t you work at the mall?” Frederick asks, raising a brow at me.

I shrug, but I’m breathing deep to try to keep a blush from rising to my cheeks. “Whatever,” I say. “That’s how I know.”

When he’s gone off with Aunt Diana and Mom—the cousins left after Christmas dinner—Megan and I take a walk along the lake.

“How’s the whole love triangle thing going?” she asks.

“Same as always,” I say with a sigh. “What about you? I’ve barely seen you the last few months. Do you have a dreamy college boyfriend?”

“Oh, yeah, Brian,” she says, crushing out her cigarette on the bottom of her Converse. “You?”

“Actually, I do. I’m officially dating Todd now.”

“The homecoming guy who likes the bitch?” she asks.

Gotta love her bluntness. Maybe that’s why I find Daria’s so endearing.

“That’s the one,” I say, laughing.

“You gonna bone him?” she asks.

“Meghan,” I protest. “No one calls it that.”

“Brian and I would have had sex the first time we met if there had been a mattress,” she says in her deadpan voice. “But we waited until the next time we met.”

“Seriously? And you’re still together? My friends always say if you sleep with a guy right away, he’ll never date you. That you have to string him along for a while.”

“Your friends are dumb. Brian and I have been together for like, pretty much the whole first semester.”

“Or maybe you’re a voodoo relationship master to keep a guy for that long after sleeping with him on your second meeting.”

“Are you stringing Todd along?” she asks as we stroll down the gravel beach.

“We haven’t done it yet, but I think I’m ready,” I admit. “Whenever we get back to school, if I can stay out of trouble long enough to go somewhere with Todd, then I think I’ll do it.”

“You could always sneak out, you know.”

“I may have to resort to that. I feel like an old maid.”

“You’re fifteen,” she says, chuckling as she digs out her cigarettes. “It’s no big deal. I mean, you’ve never even had a boyfriend before.”

“What about you?” I ask. “What’s your body count?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s see.” She counts silently on her fingers. “Like, ten? No, eleven, counting Brian.”

“ Eleven? ” I try to hide how shocked I am by bending to pick up a flat rock and not gawking at her openly. Now I feel like a bigger loser than around my friends. At least I know Lindsey has only slept with one guy. Even Elaine’s only been with a few guys. “If you’ve been dating one guy all year… How did you even know that many guys in high school?”

“Dude, enough with the slut shaming,” she says. “There are more guys in the world than just the ones you go to school with.”

“Sorry. I was just surprised.”

She shrugs and sinks onto a sandy spot at the edge of the water. “I’m in college. I’m years ahead of you. Besides, I never really thought it was a big deal. My first time was in the bathroom at Pizza Palace.”

“Seriously? That’s a little disturbing,” I say, laughing and settling beside her in the sand while she lights her cigarette.

I think of how Lindsey and Daria always talk about their first time like it’s this sacred thing. They’d probably die of shame at the thought of losing your virginity in the bathroom at a chain restaurant.

“I had a crush on my manager . Stan.” Meghan laughs at the memory and shakes her head. “He was like this uber-blond Slavic guy. Or Nordic? I don’t remember, but he always bragged about it.”

Even Megan has the memory of her first time. She may say it’s not a big deal, but it’s something she’ll always remember. I want to have that memory, so I can have a story too, like everyone else.

“I’m so tired of being the only living virgin,” I say with a sigh. “I just want to get it over with. I’m tired of carrying it around with me.”

“It’s your precioooussssss, ” she says, imitating Gollum.

“Precious, my ass.”

She laughs. “I don’t think you’re ready to have that conversation.”

“Eww,” I say, my face flushing when I realize what she’s implying.

She just laughs and leans back on her palm. “Hey, I know a lot of guys if you want to get it over with that bad. Then you wouldn’t have to see the guy around school all the time.”

“You mean, like the ‘college guy’ I hooked up with last summer?” I ask, pretending to glower at her.

“Okay, you took off and met him on your own,” she protests. “You have to let me vet him first. I won’t steer you wrong. In fact, there’s always a party or two up here on New Year’s.”

“Tempting,” I say slowly, “but I couldn’t do that to Todd.”

“Okay,” she says, shrugging. “But from what you told me about him and the redheaded devil woman, I’m not sure he’s being an angel up there on Brokeback Mountain.”

“Winter Park,” I correct automatically. “And I’m sure Todd wouldn’t… I mean, it’s different now. We were just talking at Homecoming. He’s my real boyfriend now.”

She adjusts her jean skirt and stretches her pale legs out in the sun. “If you say so. But we should still go to one of the parties. What do you think?”

“I think my mom will definitely not let me go.”

“Whatever,” Meghan says. “She’s going out drinking with the rest of the parents on New Year’s Eve.”

“She is?” I ask, pulling back in surprise. It’s not like my mom never drinks. She has wine with Aunt Diana all the time, way more often than she did at home. Back then, she and Dad went out often enough though, sometimes coming home tipsy and loud. But going out drinking is something people do in college, not as adults. Going out drinking is something people do when they want to meet someone and hook up.

My stomach turns, and even though I curse Dad all the time, I feel the urge to fight on his behalf now. Mom can’t just meet some random Arkansas man in a bar and replace him. It’s a ridiculous and hypocritical thought, but I can’t help it.

“Yeah,” Meghan says. “Mom says Uncle Frederick’s kind of a party animal when they get together.”

“That’s weird,” I say, trying to imagine going out partying with Lily when we’re grown up. “But I’m sure she’ll make me stay home and babysit. I’m on the shortest leash ever.”

“Damn, dude. Your mom is harsh,” she says. “It’s New Year’s. Everyone parties.”

At least she doesn’t say my mom is awesome, like Lindsey does just because Mom forced me to endure the most embarrassing day of my life, going to get on birth control when I wasn’t even thinking about needing it. I guess now that I am, I’ll have to get it back from Lindsey. The thought of telling Lindsey is awful—I can already see the disapproval in her eyes when I say I don’t care if I love Todd or if my first time is perfect or even special. I bet she’d tell Chase too.

The thought is surprisingly satisfying instead of mortifying. He wouldn’t be able to tease me about it and make all his suggestive comments anymore, and no one would think I was the virginal freak.

“Maybe they’ll let you hang out since you’re with me, and I can keep an eye on you,” Meghan says. “I mean, I’m your cousin. How much trouble can I get you into?”