those towns where everyone knew everyone and everything you did got around if you weren't careful. I was thirteen . . . there were plenty of things I did I didn't want getting around.
Tessa slid her hand into mine and I grimaced. Little sisters, what a pain in the ass. Big eyes the same brown as mine looked up at me and she smiled at me with that big-brother-worshipping smile. I sighed, squeezed her hand, and tugged her along. "Come on. Before the line gets too long." She was a pain, but she was my pain and family's what counts. Dad said that over and over again. People are people, but it's family that counts.
Along with the brown eyes she looked like me. Slightly dark skin, curly black hair. We were related all right. You could see that a mile away. Dead-on our dad.
"What kind of cookies should I make Santa?" Tessa chattered. "Chocolate chip? Peanut butter? Oooh, Snickerdoodles. Everybody loves Snickerdoodles. Right? You like Snickerdoodles, don't you?"
I rolled my eyes and was thankful the line wasn't that long. Santa was pretty much what I expected: fat enough to strain his big black belt and with a beard so fake and bushy that rats could've nested in it. He had glasses perched on the end of his red-veined nose and his lap was full of a sobbing, kicking-and-screaming two-year-old with a load in his training pants that had to weigh more than he did.
"Eww," Tessa said, tugging at my hand. "I don't want to sit there."
"Then just stand beside him and tell him what you want for Christmas," I said impatiently. "His balls could probably use the break." Hundreds of kids slamming down on them day after day, no way I'd want his job.
"Balls?" She wrinkled her nose. "I don't see any balls. Snowballs?"
Jesus. I was in for it now. "Hey, it's your turn," I said with relief, letting go of her hand and giving her a light shove. "Remember to hold still for the picture or Mom'll kill me."
She moved up beside and tiptoed up to whisper in his ear. The camera flashed, and even though it was a little early, it did make a cute picture. Then Tessa leaned back and bounced happily in shiny patent leather shoes that went with her best red velvet dress.
The fake Santa blinked at her, twitched a forced smile, and hurried her off with a candy cane. As we waited for the picture to pop out, I asked, "What'd you ask for?"
I let her take my hand again as she said solemnly, "You know."
We all wanted something we weren't going to get. This was Tessa's year for disappointment. The one thing she wanted and the one thing she'd never get. Feeling more guilty than I wanted to, I said, "You want to get a milk shake before we go home?"
Of course she did, and we went to the drugstore. They had an old-fashioned malt shop there. I didn't much know or care what an old-fashioned malt shop, like the sign said, was, but they served milk shakes and that was enough for me. I had chocolate, she had strawberry, and things were fine until Jed walked in. His parents had named him Jedidiah and he had a punch for anyone who called him that. It was supposed to be biblical. I guessed it didn't take.
I slid him a careful sideways look. Cold blue eyes stared back, then he gave a half snarl, half hateful grin. Jed was fourteen, big, and a bully. Christmas might suck, but so did bullies.
And Jed was of the worst kind. The worst in the school, that's for sure. He picked on kids who were smaller and younger. He thought that made him a badass. It didn't. It just made him a coward. He hadn't messed with me yet, but it was only a matter of time. I was close to his size, but not close enough for him to pass over me. Not by a good three inches. I was husky for my age, but a little short. Yeah, he was working his way up to me. He was a coward, but he was stupid, too. It wouldn't be long before he'd get over being careful of someone almost as heavy as him if not as tall. Between mean and stupid, stupid wins every time.
Tessa and I slurped up the last of our shakes and we left. She used both hands to try and peel the plastic