Page 22 of Holiday Star
At my insistent look, he lets out a deep breath. “It’s just, you weren’t kidding. You really do love Christmas.”
“What’s not to love? Everyone’s together. There are presents. Yummy food and drinks.” I spread my arms as wide as they will go and spin in a circle, waving to all the decorations we’ve put up. “Look at this place,” I tell him. “It’s merry and jolly and…and…” I struggle until I find the right word, “and happy.”
Caleb takes a step back and lets his eyes slowly roam over the room, like he’s trying to see it from my point of view. There’s green and red everywhere. Little ceramic reindeer and white-haired Santas. Cotton balls stretched apart to make fake snow.
Finally, his attention returns to me. He stares at me with a focus that makes me self-conscious. “I suppose it does look like that, like happy,” he says after a long pause. There’s a flicker of light in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
Just then, the doorbell rings, startling me. “Oops. I almost forgot. I’m going to the mall with Jenny.”
“Have fun.” Caleb waves distractedly as he moves back to the couch, picking up his book. The glimmer of light I had seen a moment before extinguishes like it never existed.
I’m putting on my sneakers when I wonder if he’ll get lonely, in here by himself. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Oh god, no.” He licks the tip of his finger in a way that catches my attention and holds it captive. Unblinking, I watch as he uses that dampened finger to turn the page of his book. There’s a weird sensation in my lower belly, my stomach performing a slow flip-flop.
I avert my eyes, blushing and feeling stupid about it.
Breathe, Gwen, breathe. You arenotattracted to moody movie stars. That’s not who you are.
It’s probably for the best that he’s not tagging along. I’m clearly spending too much time with him if I find a wet fingertip so distracting. Besides, I can’t imagine what a mess it would create, taking him to our tiny suburban mall. We wouldn’t get past the entrance before a mob of fans would accost him.
The last thing I need to see is a bunch of women salivating over Caleb Freaking Lawson.
11
I’m still thinking about that, picturing it in my mind, when Jenny and I sit down at the mall food court. Giant glittering snowflakes hang from the vaulted ceiling over our heads, drifting and spinning lazily. A fake Santa walks by, sipping iced coffee through a straw.
I dip my pepperoni pizza into a small cup of ranch dressing while Jenny twirls chow mein on her fork. “Do you think it would suck?” I ask her. “Being Caleb?”
She looks at me with wide brown eyes. “Are you kidding? It would be awesome being Caleb. Everyone loves him. He’s rich, hot, and famous. What would suck about that?”
“Well, for one, he can’t just stroll through the mall whenever he likes.” I wave my pizza around, using its pointy tip to indicate the food court. “He can’t pop in for an Orange Julius.”
Jenny looks at our surroundings slowly, taking in the worn linoleum floors, overflowing trash cans, and sticky tables. “I’d give up this mall in a second if that meant I got to shop on Rodeo Drive like he does.”
“That’s the thing.” I swallow a fizzy sip of Coke. “He can’t do Rodeo Drive, either. The other day he told me some stylist buys all of his clothing, even his underwear.”
I lean toward her and whisper sadly, “Do you know he’s never had a real Christmas? Like never ever.”
Jenny tilts her head and looks me over, all eagle-eyed. “Are you feeling sorry for him?” she asks suspiciously. “Because it’s kind of bullshit when celebrities cry and complain. Like, dude, a million people would happily trade places with you.”
I sigh, frustrated because I’m not sure what I believe. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say. “I get that, but I’m not convinced those people who want to trade really understand the situation they’d be getting into. That’s all I’m saying. For all of its perks, his life also has a lot of limitations.”
“Look at you,” Jenny teases. “You were so determined not to care about him. You said you didn’t even like him, remember? And now you’re spending precious mall time worrying about Caleb Lawson.”
“I’mnotworrying about him,” I mutter into the table. But she’s right. I am worried about Caleb. That brooding man-boy who’s crawled onto the living-room couch like a turtle into his shell. “He just doesn’t seem very happy. Sometimes he is, but mostly he’s not.”
“Is there anything we can do? To help?” Classic Jenny, generous to a fault. That’s why she’s trying to get an investigative reporter job, so she can be a champion for the underdogs in the world. I picture her, hands on hips and a red cape flowing out behind.
I shake off a dollop of ranch before shoving the pizza into my mouth, mumbling around it as I chew. “He needs to get out of that house, at least for a little while.”
Jenny props her head up with her hand. She’s quiet, thinking. “Oh!” She sits up suddenly. “What about caroling tonight? My parents are both working so they won’t be there, but we could go and take Caleb. It’ll be just the three of us. We can wrap him up in a hat and scarves, so he won’t be so recognizable. We could position him in the back row, away from the lights. What about that? It’ll be fun.”
Every year, people from Jenny’s neighborhood,myneighborhood now, get together at the local park. The coordinators pass out Christmas sheet music to all the volunteers, and we stroll from house to house, singing carols. I always go with Jenny and her family. It’s our tradition.
“Jenny,” taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, “you’re brilliant. It’ll be performing, but not performing. Totally in his wheelhouse. It’s perfect.”
She squeezes my fingers back and dramatically flutters her eyelashes. “Iama bit of a genius,” she brags.
