Chapter 41
Over the next three weeks, the hallway becomes a home base for mixing with other groups. Sebastian and Terrance have given up their idea of a lawn business, and are passing out business cards for tutoring services.
“S and T Tutoring! Low rates and guaranteed results, or your money back.”
A laugh bursts from my throat, “Those two always have something going on.”
“Believe it or not, two of their current customers are Peaks.” He hooks an arm around my shoulder. “Things are changing around here.”
“I’m gonna ask Amelia to join the civics club. Do you think she’ll come?” I slip my fingers between his, and we walk down the hall.
“She showed up to help at the shelter, didn’t she?”
I make up my mind to ask her as soon as I get the chance.
At our meeting on Tuesday after school, Ms. Kendrick hands out packages of long white socks. “We’re going to fill these full of goodies for the people at the shelter.” She pulls one out. “It’s the cheapest stocking I could think of.”
“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Mr. Farnswiddle rolls a grocery cart into the room filled with soap, shampoo, razors—all sorts of stuff.
Terrance follows him in carrying a big box. “Where do you want this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just plops it down in front of me. “How about here?”
Christmas music plays from Ms. Kendrick’s Spotify as we fill the stocking with hygiene stuff and candy. By the time we’re finished, we have enough donated supplies to fill one hundred and twelve socks.
A few months ago, we couldn’t even get kids to sit at the same lunch table. Now we’ve got six boxes full of Christmas stockings for people we don’t even know.
“We should go caroling, Ms. Kendrick. Like, knock on doors and sing to people.”
She raises her head. “Caroling?”
“That would be so sick!” Terrance calls out. “Can we do it Friday?”
Mr. Farnswiddle loads the box into the grocery cart. “Friday begins your Christmas break.”
“Exactly,” Sebastian nibbles down the length of his red licorice stick. “Before everyone disappears.”
Ms. Kendrick slides her eyes to Mr. Farnswiddle who gives a slight nod. “Fine, but I’m not going to be happy if none of you show up and Dennis and I are left to do it alone.”
Dennis? That’s interesting. “What are we going to do? Take a school bus around?”
“I quite doubt that we can find a bus driver willing to take this lot around the neighborhoods last minute before the holiday.”
“There are some houses up Pineview,” Ms. Kendrick clicks off the music. “We could walk.”
“I’m okay to walk,” I say. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’m in.”
“Sounds good.”
“Sick!”
Semester exams make the week fly by. Especially since I’m kind of killing it.
“Impressive score, Miss Darcie,” Mr. Farnswiddle points to the eighty-eight percent at the top of my paper.
I cover my mouth, staring at the red number. “I’ve been working really hard—Stuart’s been helping me.”
He pats my shoulder. “Well done.”
Those two words follow me around the rest of the day, and I can’t stop smiling.
On Friday, Amelia is absent. I pull my tablet from my book bag and check my messages during Math class, then again after PE. Nothing.
“She didn’t tell me she was going to be out.” I steal one of Stuart’s Doritos. “I hope she’s not sick.”
“Maybe she’s getting her cast off,” he offers me another, then pours the crumbs into his mouth. “Or her family left early for a trip or something.”
“She would have told me.” I glance down at my sandwich. “I know we’ve only really been friends for a few weeks, but she would have told me.”
In civics class, we finish up our “Civics in Action” holiday challenge. Our group has to figure out a way to help the elderly in our community.
“I actually think we could really do this.” I pass out index cards to my teammates: a Sketcher, two Yarders, and a Peak. “Write three things that you’d be willing to do for an elderly person in the community. Stuff like, shovel snow or running errands. Don’t put your name on it; we’re just brainstorming.”
Stuart gathers up the cards and reads them aloud. “Okay… this one says, walk their dog…” He pulls another one. “Write them a letter.” Holding up the next card, he whistles. “I like this one. Bake them cookies! Whoever wrote this, feel free to bake some for me.”
As he reads, I list them on the whiteboard. “Seriously. We could easily do this through the civics club.”
Chatter fills the room. Kids trying to solve the problem of food scarcity, homelessness, and abandoned animals. By the end of class, we have a list of projects for the civics club to take on next semester. It’s a lot.
“Raise your hand if you’re planning to stay for caroling this afternoon. I need a headcount for the pizza.” Ms. Kendrick counts the hands raised. “Alright, if I don’t see you before you leave for the day, have a wonderful holiday. You’re dismissed when the bell rings.”
The hallway is jam-packed before the dismissal bell even rings. Almost everyone is wearing either a Santa hat or reindeer antlers. Girls hold giant stuffed animals and gift bags, and no one is in a hurry to get to the bus.
Lockers slam and the loud singing of Christmas songs echoes through the hallway, with people calling out, “See you next year,” and “Merry Christmas!” Stuart and I empty the books from our backpacks, loading them into our lockers.
“Find out anything about Amelia?” I ask Stuart.
“Nope. I even asked Ezra.”
“What’d he say?”
“He had no idea where she was.”
I snort, “You mean he shrugged his shoulders?”
“Exactly.” He swings his pack onto his shoulder and leans against my locker. “Got your hat and mittens? It’s gonna be a cold hike up Pineview Drive.”
“Yep, in my bag.” I push it toward him. “Hold this a second. Let me just check my messages one more time.”
I open messages, then email. Nothing.
“By the look on your face, I’m guessing no.”
“I’m gonna send her one. ‘Missed you today. Hope you’re okay. Going caroling at the top of Pineview.’ I power off my tablet and slide it back into my pack.
The smell of pizza drifts down the hallway as we reach Ms. Kendrick’s classroom. The pizza is cold and the root beer’s warm.
Sebastian joins us at the table with a stack of pizza slices and a Mountain Dew. He slaps two slices together like a sandwich and takes a bite. “I love Little Caesars,” he says, talking with his mouth full. “Even when it’s cold.”
“Trash in the bin, please.” Mr. Farnswiddle stands by the door with a trash bag. “Give your cans a rinse and place them in the box for recycling.”
We clean up after ourselves, then head outside. I pull my hat over my ears. “Definitely need the hat.”
“I’ve never been up here, have you?” We trudge up the steep pavement, panting almost immediately.
“Nope. There’s mostly mansions up here.”
“I hope they like Christmas carols.”
We’re sucking air when we reach the top of the hill—all except Terrance who runs up the street scouting houses. “Let’s go this way.”
Four white columns stand out against the red brick as we step onto the porch of the first house.
“What should we sing?”
“How about Deck the Halls?”
“Okay. Ring the bell.”
The people who live here stand in the freezing doorway and clap like crazy when we finish. The lady whistles, and the guy hands out candy canes.
Two little kids, about Andrew’s age, twirl and dance in their PJs to Jingle Bells at the second house.
Next, an old woman stands at the window watching as we sing, ‘Oh Little Town of Bethlehem’. Her hands press together and eyes flutter closed. She opens the door when we finish. “Thank you, that was lovely.”
By the time we reach the fourth house, my fingers are numb. “This place is humongous.” I slow my steps as my ears fill with pressure.
Stuart reaches for the bell.
“Wait,” I don’t know why I say it, but this house doesn’t feel as friendly. “Nothing. Sorry.”
The doorbell chimes three times, and it isn’t long before we see a shadow flicker through the curtains. We start singing, ‘Joy to the World’, but when the woman opens the door, the song dies in my throat. Genevieve.
The frown on her face scrunches up into a full-blown scowl.
“What are you doing here?”
I stumble backwards. “Uh, caroling?”
“You are not welcome in my home, Darcie Reynolds. You ruined my life.” Sebastian and Terrance join Stuart at my side, like a couple of skinny linebackers ready to run interference.
But I step forward, fists clenched. “I ruined your life?” A surge of anger takes hold; my ears burn. “You might want to take some responsibility for what you did.”
She grips the doorframe on either side of her.
“Never mind sicking Ezra after me—what you did to Amelia—robbing her of her mother. You might want to at least own that.”
Her eyes dart over my head, and her expression suddenly shifts from a snarl to something else. Is that fear? That can’t be right.
“What? You can’t even stand to look at me? Because you know I’m right?”
Stuart taps my shoulder. “Um, Darcie?”
The slam of a car door has me turning. Amelia, holding a small package wrapped in gold paper and a green bow, steps from the car. Her pink cast, now replaced with a brace, allows her to walk almost normally.
“What are you guys doing here? This is the last place I thought I’d run into you.” Her eyes flick to her grandmother standing on the front stoop, pulling her sweater closed as the wind whips at her.
“We didn’t know this was your house. We’re Christmas caroling—the civics club—you should join.”
“Nice, but I don’t live here anymore.”
Genevieve tenses and clears her throat.. but Amelia reaches out toward me, taking my hand. “I’m really glad to see you because I have something important I’ve got to tell you.” She looks at her grandmother again, clutching her pearls around her neck. “Give me a minute.”
“Merry Christmas.” She holds out the package.
Her grandmother shoos us away like flies at a cookout. “Miss Reynolds, please step away. This is a private conversation between my granddaughter— “
“No,” Amelia wraps her hand around my arm. “Stay. This will only take a minute.”
I fold my arms and glare at the old woman.
Genevieve’s eyes widen, and her fingers play against her throat, twisting her pearls.
Amelia hands her the present and steps back. “This doesn’t mean everything‘s okay. You hurt us; but for some reason, I still love you.”
Genevieve opens her mouth, but says nothing.
Amelia turns away, pulling me to the side. “If I were staying in Silver Pines, I would definitely join the civics club. But we’re… moving back to Idaho.”
Cold air blows down my neck. “You’re leaving?” Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. But we just got to be friends…
“We can’t be in this town anymore. My family needs a fresh start—like you got when you moved here.” Her gaze stays on the ground. “I just wish I knew how to do what you do.”
My head jerks up. “What?”
“I spent my whole life worrying that I wasn’t good enough, but then you show up and just…be yourself.”
“Wait. You sent that email?”
“Who did you think sent it?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I had no idea.”
She squeezes my hand. “All I can say is thank God for whatever brought you to Silver Pines. You changed my life.”
I meet her gaze, both of us with tears welling. “Yeah,” I laugh. “Thank God for that.”
Behind us, the group sings, “Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright.”
“Listen,” she says. “Silent Night. I’ll never forget that night in the cave—what you did for her—it was…” She glances back over her shoulder. “I need to do something.”
She pivots toward the door where Genevieve stands, the gift in one hand, the other clutching her throat. Her chin raises proudly as Amelia steps onto the landing, gently removing the box from Genevieve’s arms and setting it on a table nearby. Genevieve’s lips tremble as Amelia throws her arms around her grandmother.
Genevieve stands, arms stiff at her sides, but Amelia holds on until she finally hugs her back.
Stuart folds his hand into mine, and with tears trickling down my face, we sing the end of the song that somehow brought all of us here.
“Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.”