Brooklyn awoke to the shouting of her best friend. She opened her eyes blearily. “What?”
“Are you really going to ask me to repeat it again?” Kat asked. When Brooklyn’s eyes came to focus, she found Kat leaning over her, and Natalia behind her. Kat, eccentric as always, was dressed in one of those Santa mini dresses that were red and trimmed with white.
“We’re twenty years old, Kat. Why are you dressing up?” Brooklyn asked crankily.
“It’s Christmas. We’re supposed to be youthful. Now wake up. We have to give each other presents.”
Brooklyn pulled herself out of bed, ushered her friends out and got ready. After brushing her teeth and bathing, she padded to the closet. She pulled out a pine green Alice + Olivia dress that shone under the lights and set off the green of her eyes and pulled on a red sweater over it. Then, she strung a big white necklace and matching earrings on.
When she was dressed, she made her way down, bag full of presents in tow. This year, she’d bought them all well in advance. Kat was sitting in her Santa mini dress on the couch next to Romeo, whose arm was around her shoulders. Natalia sat opposite them, dressed in a white lace blouse, high waisted red pants and a green silk scarf that was tied around her neck. On her feet were three inch green heels. “Nice outfit,” Brooklyn commented.
She smiled. “I’ve been planning this one since last Christmas.”
Kat clapped her hands excitedly. “Presents!”
Cecily wandered in, her heels clicking. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a white shirt, but she wore a Christmas tree brooch. “I’ve got some for you children too.”
Brooklyn looked up in surprise. Her mother had always said she never had time for Christmas. Though she hated that her mother had never had any time for her, Brooklyn was happy for any time her mother could spend with her. “Come on, mom!” she said, patting the seat next to her. Her mother smiled appreciatively and sat beside her daughter.
Brooklyn handed out her presents first. She handed Kat a red envelope with two plane tickets to London. Kat squealed. “These are amazing.”
Brooklyn shrugged. “London is wonderful. I went there once. It seems like your type of place. When I first bought them, I thought I’d go with you, but,” she smiled at Romeo, “I guess it would be okay if you took Romeo.”
Romeo raised his eyebrow. “Does this mean we have your approval?”
Brooklyn laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Then she handed him his present—an electronic picture frame that was diamond studded and filled with pictures of the two of them, mostly as children.
Romeo reached over and hugged Brooklyn as Cecily looked at the pictures, somewhat forlornly. There was one of her with the two of them, when Brooklyn was three and he was two. Cecily looked at herself, holding both her children and laughing. It had been before she had gotten so busy. When she had been an artist and had just married her husband. She hadn’t been rich before they were married, and had been somewhat of a hippie, with long tribal print skirts, red lipstick, and waist length hair. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to go back to that time, when everything was so much easier. When she spent all her time painting or playing with her two beautiful children.
She looked up at them now. Romeo had grown into a man so fast. Here he was now, his arm around a beautiful girl, laughing. She was so proud of him, though she had never told him that before. He was so caring and compassionate—always there for his sister and his friends, for everyone, really. She turned sideways and looked at Brooklyn, who was leaning in to look at the pictures. She was really beautiful, more beautiful, Cecily thought, than she had ever been. With her auburn hair and sparkling eyes. And she was so strong and poised. She loved how her daughter took on life with full speed, headfirst. She was so independent. Cecily wondered when her daughter had grown up. It seemed like just yesterday she had been a moody fifteen year old. Somehow, she felt like she had missed her own children’s childhoods.
Brooklyn handed Natalia a small bag. Natalia opened it and groaned. Inside was a medium sized bottle of blonde hair dye. Brooklyn folded her hands like she was praying. “Please, please use it, Nat.”
And then they were all laughing. “No, sorry, Nat. That’s not your present. Though, you better use it. Here,” she handed her a green envelope. Natalia opened it to find a ticket to London, just like Kat’s, and a pass to a movie set.
She held it up curiously. “What is this?”
Brooklyn smiled mischievously. “I was able to sweet talk the director into letting his star’s girlfriend on set for one day. You have to sign a confidentiality agreement, because the movie is some big deal, but at least you can see him!”
And then Natalia was screaming and hugging her tightly. “Oh, my God, Brooklyn. You are amazing!” Brooklyn smiled. She had always liked giving presents. It was why Christmas was her favorite holiday.
Then she turned to Cecily. She handed her mother a gift wrapped box. Inside, Cecily found a long sunset orange skirt that was printed with black tribal designs. It was like something she would wear twenty years ago, before she got married. She looked up at her daughter in amazement. “Brooklyn?”
“I went through your old photos when I was looking for some to put in Romeo’s picture frame, and I came across pictures of a very very different you. I thought, if you every wanted a break from those pencil skirts, well, this was an option.” Brooklyn smiled. “And that’s not all. Look under the skirt.”
Cecily did, and inside was a small canvas and a set of oil paints and brushes. Cecily wrapped her daughter in a long tight hug. “I love you, sweetie. You’ve become a beautiful, amazing woman.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Come on, mom. You don’t have to exaggerate.”
Cecily laughed. “I’m not exaggerating, Brooklyn, you really have.”
* * * * *
Emma Blake finally gave in and slid out of bed to pick up the ringing phone. “Hello?”
“Em? It’s Seth.”
Emma smiled to herself. She couldn’t stop thinking of him. “Hey, Seth.”
“Come over, Em.”
She would, but she was tired. He had woken her up. “Later, Seth. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Oh, come on, Em. It’s Christmas. Don’t you want to see what I got you? Come over.”
“Seth. Later. I can’t right now. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Please, Emma? Please.”
She sighed. “Fine. But only for you.”
She could almost hear him smiling. “Okay. See you in ten?”
“Yeah.”
She hung up and brushed her teeth before pulling on a pair of bright red matchstick jeans, a black camisole, and on top of that a green fishnet shirt. She pulled on a pair of white heels and tied her blond hair up with a red ribbon. Then she was downstairs, and out the door.
She preferred to walk to Seth’s house, as it was only ten minutes away, and the cold Christmas air was something she really loved. She walked, smiling. She felt deliciously happy—early mornings always made her feel that way.
She turned to cross the street, feeling the wind dance through her hair, when she saw a car, running in full speed.
It was coming right at her.
And then everything went black.
* * * * *
Seth sat in the parlor, waiting for the doorbell to ring and for Emma to come bounding in. Her beautifully wrapped present sat next to him on the mahogany table. It had been about forty-five minutes since he had called. She should be here by now.
Suddenly, his cell phone rang.
“Hello?” he asked.
“Is this Seth Draycott?” a gruff manly voice asked.
“Who’s this?” Seth asked, warily. His parents were rich, and he’d always had to be careful of kidnappers and thieves. This, though, turned out to be the opposite.
“This is Officer Stewart of The New York City Police. What is your connection to Emma Andrea Blake?”
“I’m, I’m, wel
l — I guess I’m her boyfriend. Why?” Seth wondered if Emma could have gotten into some kind of trouble. But she wasn’t the type to do anything bad, really.
Officer Stewart cleared his throat. “She was walking somewhere this morning, and was hit by a car.”
Seth’s eyes widened, and for a second, his heart stopped. He was speechless. “What?” his voice cracked.
“I’m calling you, because according to her cell phone, you were the last person she called.”
Seth was breathing heavily by then, rocking back and fourth. “Is she okay?” he almost yelled.
Officer Stewart was silent for a second. He could hear the man on the other end breathing. “No, sir. She died immediately, on impact.”
And then Seth dropped the phone. He fell to his knees, on the plush red carpet. He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t speaking. From far away, he could hear Officer Stewart calling. “Hello? Hello? Hello, sir, are you there?” He ignored him. His hands were in his hair now, almost pulling. He screamed silently.
Only forty-five minutes ago, he had called a girl who was now dead. Only yesterday, he had kissed a girl who was now dead. He had killed her. He had forced her to come. He knew it. He was a murderer. He had killed her. He picked up the phone and threw it hard, against one of the mirrors in the room. Both shattered—the phone and the mirror.
He heard voices yelling, and feet thudding as his family ran downstairs to him. He felt his mother asking him what happened, stroking his back, but he couldn’t speak.
He had killed her.
* * * * *
When Brooklyn heard, that evening, about Emma, she could barely believe it. She and Emma had never been good friends. They knew each other, though, and because their parents were in the same social circles, they had grown up together. As soon as Cecily had whispered it in her ear, she had taken off, almost flying, to Seth’s home. She just barely stopped to put on her coat. When she got there, she found him, in the parlor, his head in his hands, curled up on the floor.
She dropped to her knees and put her arm around him, like old days. “He’s been like this all day,” his mother told her, concernedly.
Brooklyn tilted Seth’s head up, to look at her. “Seth?” she asked. But he didn’t say anything, only leaned his head against her shoulder.
She sat there with him, for twenty minutes, before he sat up, and looked into her eyes. “I killed her,” he said quietly. A tear rolled down his cheek.
Brooklyn stared at him. “Killed her? No, of course you didn’t. It was a drunk driver that hit her.”
Seth shook his head. His eyes were wild. “She was coming over to visit me. I called her and she didn’t want to come over, but I kept pleading, and finally she agreed. And then she walked over and got hit by that car. If I hadn’t forced her to come, Brook, she’d be here right now,” he said, brokenly.
“No, Seth, no. You didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault,” she said, crying with him. It was all so sudden, she thought. And Seth—he’d never enjoy another Christmas again. He would always been haunted by Emma, and now he believed he killed her. Brooklyn had no idea how to convince him otherwise. She just sat there with him, together, tangled in an everlasting hug, until his mother coaxed him into bed. Then she walked home, feeling like her world was falling apart. But she knew, it was ten times worse for Seth.
* * * * *
Ty knocked on the door of Averil’s apartment, wondering where she was. She hadn’t called the entire day. It was Christmas day, and she still hadn’t answered his calls. Simon opened the door, a huge smile on his face. When he saw Ty, though, it fell immediately. He asked him to come in, and called Averil.
She came in, wearing an oversized Coldplay T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Just the sight of the shirt made Ty’s heart sink. Averil sat down next to him, very carefully, to make sure they didn’t touch.
Simon left the room and then they were alone. He leaned over to kiss her, but she turned so that his lips met her cheek. He leaned back, confused. “Averil? Is something wrong? I don’t understand.”
She let out a troubled sigh and looked down at his Converse shoes. The ones that had her Forever inked on them. She folded her hands together tightly, as if trying to tell him something. “I know I said we were for forever. I know — I just…” she cracked and put her head between her hands in despair.
Suddenly Ty was afraid. “Averil?” he moved her hands from her face. “If you’re breaking up with me, just tell me.”
“I love you, Ty, I do. As a friend. I realized today, or yesterday, that I’m in love with Simon. I never knew it before. You were kind of a fairytale, and I thought I loved you. But I think I loved the idea of you—a dark prince. But now, I realized that I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with Simon.”
Ty’s eyes were wide, and he was fighting not to cry himself. He stood up. “Well, if you don’t love me, then I have to go.” He walked out like he was in a trance.
Outside, he lost it. “Dammit,” he yelled, angry, kicking snow. People were staring, but he didn’t care. His tears were falling fast, and he glared at anyone who stared at him. He picked up a rock and hurled it far, far away. He wasn’t sure what it hit, but it satisfied him a little. When he finally got home, he removed his shoes and looked at them. The words she had written were almost indecipherable, for the snow had melted and bled the words into eachother. They were black blobs now. It was fitting, he knew. The future, the forever, he thought he was going to have was gone. He thought he was going to marry her someday, have a home, have children. But it was all gone.
He picked up the shoes and threw them in the trash, along with his visions of the future.
* * * * *
Averil lay in her bed, in another one of Simon’s T-shirts, listening to him typing away at his laptop. She wanted him to come, lie down, and hold her, but she knew, she’d be fast asleep by the time he was ready to go to bed. The thought of Ty still haunted her. She loved him, and she hated to make him so sad. It wasn’t fair to him, but she didn’t know how to be fair to all of them.
And then, there was her family. Tomorrow, she resolved, she’d go to her mother and make it right. It wasn’t right to be so estranged from her own family.
But in spite of all this, she couldn’t help being happy. Simon and Averil. Averil and Simon. It was perfect. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before. Simon obviously had.
Shutting her eyes, she let the rhythmic sound of Simon’s typing lull her to sleep.
* * * * *
Romeo settled into his bed, feeling confused. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. Before they found out about Emma Blake, he was infinitely happy, what with Kat and all. But after they heard about Emma, and Brooklyn rushed to Seth, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. He felt guilty for not feeling very affected by Emma Blake’s death. He barely knew her. She was a year older, and it wasn’t like she was one of Brooklyn’s good friends. But was he a bad person for not being affected by her death?
He didn’t know, but he felt that a death should change him in some way. He didn’t even feel very sad, and that worried him. What kind of person was he to not feel some emotion when someone died?
* * * * *
Ty fell into bed, feeling very unlike himself. He felt broken. Like something essential was gone. He thought he’d be used to it by now—people leaving him. Both his parents had left him, foster families had often ditched him. But with Averil, he hadn’t felt so alone anymore. He had had someone. But now, he was back to where he started. Alone and devastated. Like his mother, he was starting to hate New York. He felt like it was full of disappointment.
He looked to his bedside table, where there a framed picture of him and Averil. It was taken in high school, senior year. He remembered the moment clearly. It had been taken by Romeo. They were sitting on the steps that led to Averil’s school. She was staring into the distance with a faraway look in her eyes. He’d never been able to follow her to wherever her head took
her. In the picture, he was staring at her, a small smile on his face.
Suddenly, Ty felt defeated. He picked up the picture and put it face down, then shut his eyes tightly, like he was trying to close out the world.
* * * * *
Kat closed her eyes, trying to let sleep come and take her away. But it just wouldn’t. Sighing, she threw back the covers and padded out into the balcony of the room. She let the cold night air swirl around her, lifting her hair up and blowing her nightgown so that it stuck to her thin lithe body.
She stared down at New York. It was a truly beautiful city. She was so happy that she had come here for the holidays. She had met Romeo, and seen the city she had loved even before she had visited it.
She felt so sad for the girl who had died today. It was scary for her, that the girl she had seen at a party only yesterday no longer existed. It hit her hard, because she realized that anything could happen. She could die tomorrow. She never realized how easily something like that could happen. Kat had never known anyone who had died. She realized how sheltered she’d always been.
* * * * *
Natalia stared at the London ticket and movie set pass in her hands. She’d never been that well off. This was the most expensive Christmas present she had ever received. She felt a little bad for accepting it, but the idea of seeing Jeremy again, instead of just calling him, was too wonderful for her to pass on. And her own present to Brooklyn, a necklace with a charm that was in the shape of a B, seemed pale in comparison.
Brooklyn hadn’t been around for her to apologize, though, after that girl, Emma, had died. Natalia had just been about to talk to her when Cecily told them and Brooklyn was racing out of the house like a bullet.
Sighing, she slid into bed, shut her eyes, and let sleep come over her.
* * * * *
Seth felt his mother’s hand on his arm as she guided him to his room. “Seth, honey, you need to sleep. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
But everything wasn’t going to be fine. Emma was gone. Emma was dead. Dead at twenty years old. And it was his fault. He would never forget Emma. She would be forever in his thoughts. Forever in everyone’s thoughts. Everyone who knew her. He could still barely believe it had happened. He still had a small hope that he would wake up and she would still be there. He couldn’t believe that the girl he had kissed yesterday was gone. He had touched her. He had touched someone, and then killed them.