Page 18 of Dragon, Actually
That makes her laugh, and the sound washes over me like flame. If I get my Christmas wish, she’ll stay in my bed forever.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I have to take care of Mr. Whiskers.”
“Bring him with you. There’s room for him, too.”
She shakes her head. “He’s such a grump, and I don’t want him to be a problem.”
“Problem?” I scoff. “He’ll be spoiled rotten. There’s nothing dragons respect more than a creature with claws.”
She laughs again, softer this time. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think. Just come.” I can’t stop myself from grinning. Maybe I don’t understand everything about her yet, but I know one thing: I’m not letting her spend the holidays alone.
Chapter 15
Jewel
Hoardstrom’s is pure chaos on Christmas Eve, but I don’t mind. It feels festive. Wrapping paper crinkles, tape sticks to my fingers, and glittery ribbons pile around me as I hustle through yet another double shift. Customers are frantic toget their last-minute shopping done, but their excitement is infectious, and I lean into the holiday cheer.
After close, I clock out and then wrap the gift I got for Myrran. I hope he likes it. It’s nothing big, just a bundle of ingredients for him to make his own spicy hot chocolate. I hope it reminds him of our perfect first date…and the night we spent together afterward. Spicy, sweet, with a lot of depth.
When I get home, I call my family. It’s three hours earlier there, so they’re just sitting down to dinner.
“¡Feliz Nochebuena!” I say as soon as my mom answers.
“Oh, my baby girl, I wish you were here with us instead of on another planet,” she moans in her usual dramatic way. I feel my eyes well up. I miss her so much. I can hear the rest of my family sharing a noisy meal in the background.
“I wish I was, too, Mami.” I sniffle a little. “Did you guys open your gifts?”
“Sí, and you spent too much on us.” She’s pretending to scold me, but I can tell from her tone that she liked what I sent. “I thought Dani’s head might explode when they opened that purse. You must be doing well, mija.”
“I am. Working really hard.” Tears are streaming down my face now. All those extra hours at Hoardstrom’s were worth it to be able to give them what they deserve.
“Next time, put yourself in a box instead of all these gifts.” She clucks her tongue, and I can tell she’s crying, too. “We’re so proud of you. Here, Dani wants to talk about that handbag.” She hands off the phone to my squealing oldest sibling. Once I finish talking with them, they hand the phone to someone else, and I spend the next hour being passed from person to person, catching up with everyone as they celebrate the last night of Las Posadas.
My dad’s knee surgery went well. My younger brother Manu has a new girlfriend. Tía Elena is on a diet but she’s taking theholidays off so she can eat sweets. Abuela’s knitting circle made eighty-seven scarves for charity this year.
With each new bit of news, I feel better. They miss me, but they’re doing fine, just like I am. They’re still the same people. Still love me as I love them. We’re farther apart geographically, but we’re still close in our hearts. We’re still family.
I finally end up back in my mom’s hands when they’re all getting ready to go to mass. “Take care of yourself,” she says. “Llévate suéter.”
Wear a sweater.Mexican mom code fordon’t make me get on a plane to come check on you.The reminder makes me smile. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course I worry about you. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t? My baby, living alone, on another planet? I worry constantly.”
“You’re the best,” I tell her. “I love you. Don’t worrytoo muchabout me. Things are going good.”
Christmas morning is bright and frosty. I coax Mr. Whiskers into his crate with the promise of treats, pack extra undies in case I take Myrran up on the offer to stay a few extra days, and splurge on a taxi to his hive.
I’m not sure what to expect when I step into the former church, but it’s like entering another world. The nave has been transformed into an enormous common space, with daylight streaming through massive stained-glass windows and a millioncandles lighting up the dark corners. Somehow, it’s expansive and cozy at the same time.
The air is filled with the scent of roasting meat and something deliciously sweet, and the buzz of dragonish voices hums all around. Small groups of monsters lounge on huge overstuffed sofas, some engrossed in conversation, some reading or working on laptops.
I scan the room, looking for Myrran, but an imposing, orange dragon in a glittery velvet caftan steps in front of me, blocking my view. Her toothy smile is surprisingly kind, despite her intimidating height and impressive set of horns.
“You must be Jewel,” she says, eyes flicking to the cat carrier. “Is this Mr. Whiskers? I’ve heard a lot about you both.”
“Um, hi, yes,” I fumble, surprised.
