The Tori Trilogy (15 page)

It has already been decided that Auntie Crista's family will stay with my grandparents and Uncle Javi's family will stay with us. That means five extra people living, eating, sleeping, and celebrating Christmas under
our
roof.

“You're right,” replies Mom. “It
won't
be the same.” She wipes her floury hands down the front of the faded Christmas apron she's had since she was married. “But that doesn't mean it won't be just as wonderful.”

“To me, it does!” I argue. “What about Christmas morning, for example?”

Mom opens the oven door and slides out a tray of cookies. “What about it?”

I can't stand the casual lilt to her voice.
“What about it?”
I screech. “Don't you think it will be weird and awkward to have Uncle Javi and Aunt Leilani and Bella and Joy and Ethan sitting around, gawking at us, while we open presents in our pajamas?”

“They won't be sitting around, gawking,” returns Mom. “They'll have stockings and presents of their own to open.”

“But I don't
want
to share that part of Christmas!” Conscious of the fact that I sound like a two-year-old, I dip a spoon into the sugar bowl, draw it out, and sloppily smother a snowman cookie in a mound of white crystals.

“Watch what you're doing!” Mom snaps. “If you get too much sugar on the tray, it'll burn in the oven.”

I drop the spoon, letting it clatter to the counter, spraying sugar everywhere. “Why can't you understand?” I cry, and then I burst into tears.

Mom watches me a moment, silent and still. Then she comes around the counter and wraps me in her arms. “Oh, Tori,” she says softly, her warm hands rubbing up and down my back. “I know changes in tradition can be hard to accept. But you've got to remember that not
all
changes are bad. I think this Christmas will be a very special one. You can't imagine how happy Dad is to have his whole family together for the holidays.”

I sniffle. “That's not all,” I say in a tiny voice.

“What's not all?” Mom reaches for a paper napkin, which I use to dry my tears.

“I mean, that's not the only thing I'm upset about,” I confess, blowing my nose.

Mom's eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”

Quickly, I tell her about Stephanie's pencil test. “It said she was having a boy,” I finish miserably. “Do things like that really work, Mom?”

“I've heard that they
are
scarily accurate,” she replies.

I stare down at my feet, studying the pattern on my snowflake socks.

“But,” Mom goes on, “certainly not
one-hundred percent
accurate.”

I look up. “I want a niece so badly,” I say, my voice trembling.

Mom smoothes my hair. “I know you do, Tori. But you've got to be prepared for the possibility that you may get a nephew.”

“It's my
Christmas wish,”
I protest.

“I'm afraid Santa can't make any promises where that one's concerned,” returns Mom, making me smile a little. “But I
can
guarantee you that, girl
or
boy, you will love Andrew and Stephanie's baby.”

“That's not enough,” I say.

“Yes, it is,” Mom insists. “I, myself, wanted a little girl for years. But I had four boys instead, and the moment I held each of them in my arms for the very first time, I knew that I wouldn't have given them up for the world. After a baby is born, you see, it doesn't matter anymore what gender it is.”

I twist my mouth at an angle, unconvinced. “What about when
I
was born?” I ask.

Mom smiles. “When you were born,” she says, “it was a beautiful May afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the flowers were in bloom, and the moment the doctor put you in my arms, I knew our family was complete.”

I stare at Mom a moment, then rush into her arms. I hug her, and she hugs me back, and we don't let go for a very long time.

Chapter Four

On Friday, Andrew and Stephanie surprise me by inviting me to spend the night at their apartment. I'll have to say, that does a lot for my mood. I cheer up considerably just thinking about it, and first thing after school, I rush to my bedroom to pack.

It doesn't take me long to throw together an outfit for tomorrow, roll my p.j.'s into a sloppy bundle, and fill my zebra-print zipper pouch with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and hair accessories. I jam it all into my overnight bag, wedging my favorite stuffed dragon, Starfire, on top. Then I sling the bag over my shoulder and hurry downstairs to wait for Andrew.

I don't have to wait a super-long time. Because Andrew teaches at a high school, he gets off work earlier than most adults. Of course, he still has to make the half-hour trip to Forest Grove, but even so, he's pulling into our twisty driveway shortly after five o'clock. He parks his car and comes up to the door to get me. I wait impatiently while he greets Joey and Ben (Nate's out with some friends) and chats for a few minutes with Mom. Finally, he turns to me with a grin and asks, “All set, Tori?”

“Definitely,” I say.

Mom gives me a hug. “Have fun, honey!”

“I will!” I turn to Ben and Joey. “See you guys later.”

“Not if we see you first!” Joey replies.

Ben snickers.

Rolling my eyes, I reach for my overnight bag and follow Andrew out to his Chevy.

He opens the passenger-side door for me, and I scramble onto the seat, tossing my bag into the back of the car. It's still warm in here from the heat Andrew used on the way over. I buckle my seatbelt and fiddle with the radio dial.

My oldest brother slides behind the steering wheel, turns the key in the ignition, and throws the car into reverse.

“Do you mind if we listen to Christmas music?” I ask, turning up the volume a notch on The Beach Boys' “Little Saint Nick.”

“Not at all,” Andrew says good-naturedly. It's too bad my other brothers can't be more like him. “How crazy is it that Christmas is two weeks from today?”

“I know!” I cry. “I just wish it would snow. That might make it feel more like the holidays.” I glance outside at the gray-brown world of cloudy skies, bare trees, and dead grass. Though Christmas light displays in many front yards help to brighten the gloom, it somehow doesn't seem like enough.

Andrew looks over at me. “You don't think it feels like the holidays?”

I hesitate. “Well...in a lot of ways, it does. But--”

“I know, I know,” says my brother with a laugh. “You're not exactly thrilled about Uncle Javi's family staying at the house.”

My jaw drops in surprise. “How did you...?”

“You're my little sister.” He gives me a playful shove to the arm. “I know how you think.”

Somehow, that's a good feeling. “Mom tries to tell me it'll be a wonderful Christmas,” I say. “But I think it'll be weird. And then there's the fact that--” Not a moment too soon, I cut myself off, letting the sentence hang in the air.

But Andrew guesses exactly what I was about to say. “And then there's the fact that the pencil test told Stephanie she was having a boy,” he finishes for me.

I blush.

“You know,” Andrew goes on, making a wide left turn, “the test could be wrong. After all, Steph and I didn't get the official word from a doctor, and sometimes even
doctors
are wrong.”

“Mom says those tests are scarily accurate,” I tell him, toying with my purple-striped gloves. “So most likely the baby is a boy.”

“I don't know about that,” replies Andrew. “There's a good possibility, maybe, but I don't think I would say
most likely.”

I chew on that for a moment. “I guess we just have to wait and see.”

“Exactly!” My big brother smiles at me. “Now what do you say we put Uncle Javi's family and the gender of the baby out of our minds for tonight, and focus on having a good time?”

I grin back at him. “I say, that sounds perfect!”

Andrew, Stephanie, and I
do
have a good time. We order Chinese take-out for dinner, complete with won-ton soup and egg rolls and my
favorite
pork lo-mein, and eat it in front of the TV while we watch a couple of Christmas movies I picked out at the nearby Blockbuster.

The small sitting room of the apartment is warm and cozy. Andrew and Stephanie put up a Christmas tree in the corner, and there are decorative stockings hung on the mantelpiece of the electric fireplace, where flames dance over artificial logs, and a string of miniature Christmas lights around the big framed mirror that was one of my brother and sister-in-law's wedding presents.

Halfway through the second movie, Stephanie pauses the DVD. “Who wants hot chocolate?” she asks.

In my opinion, you can never have too much hot chocolate in the wintertime,
especially
at Christmas. “I do!” I exclaim.

“That sounds great,” says Andrew to his wife. “How about I make it while you sit here and relax?”

Stephanie waves her hand dismissively. “I'm fine,” she protests, getting to her feet.

But Andrew insists. He and I carry the leftovers of our dinner into the kitchenette, where I close the flaps on the cardboard take-out containers and slide them into the fridge. Andrew jams our used rumpled napkins, chopsticks, and empty packets of soy sauce into a paper bag, which he tosses into the garbage. He and I both rinse out our water glasses and stack them in the dishwasher. Then he pulls three mugs from the cupboard.

“Where do you keep your hot chocolate mix?” I ask, wanting to be helpful.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of it,” Andrew replies. “Why don't you go keep Steph company?”

Happily, I agree, and return to the sitting room.

My sister-in-law is curled up in the corner of the couch, a blanket wrapped over her legs, her face shining in the glow of the Christmas decorations.

“Hi,” I say, dropping down next to her.

“Hi, yourself!” Stephanie smiles warmly.

“What were you thinking about?” I ask.

“Thinking about?”

“Yeah. When I came in, you looked like you had something on your mind.”

Stephanie steeples her fingers reflectively. “Oh, just the baby, I guess. I was wondering whether this Christmas or next Christmas would be his or her first.”

I stare at her, puzzled. “Well...this Christmas, of course!”

“Not necessarily,” says Stephanie. “What if the baby's born
after
Christmas?”

“But-”I stammer “but the due date is December twenty-first.”

“That's true,” my sister-in-law replies. “But sometimes babies come late. Especially first babies.”

I hadn't thought about that! I was so worried the baby might be a boy, it hadn't even crossed my mind that it might not even arrive in time for Christmas. This keeps getting worse and worse!

I must have a horrified look on my face, because Stephanie turns to me, strokes my hair, and tucks it behind my ears. “Whenever the baby comes,” she tells me, “early, late, or right on time, I'll still consider him or her my Christmas gift. The exact date doesn't matter so much, does it?”

I swallow a hard lump in my throat. “I guess not,” I lie.

Stephanie pulls me toward her, and I lean on her shoulder. “You need to relax, Tori,” she tells me gently. “Whatever happens is meant to be.”

I know she's right, but somehow I'm not content with that. I guess I'll just try not to focus on it. After a long pause, I ask, “What does it feel like?”

Her eyes widen. “Being pregnant, you mean?”

I duck my head, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah,” I mumble.

Stephanie laughs. “It's warm and wonderful, unlike anything I've ever experienced. You can't imagine the awesomeness of feeling another human being moving inside of you.” She shakes her head, as if to clear away the dreaminess. “Of course, it isn't all a picnic. Swollen feet and nausea and extreme exhaustion aren't exactly my idea of a good time.”

I giggle. “Does the baby kick a lot?”

“A
lot,”
she replies. “In fact....” She takes my hand, pressing it gently against the bulge in her top.

At first, I feel nothing. But then, I do! A warm, murky motion like an underwater swimmer meets my palm.

“That's your new niece or nephew,” Stephanie says.

It's an incredible moment. I squeeze my eyes shut, draw a deep breath, and silently will my deepest wish to the unborn baby:
Please, please, please be a girl...and please be born in time for Christmas!

Every morning for the entire next week, I pull back my window curtain first thing, checking outside for snow. No such luck. Only gray skies and heavy clouds and sometimes a dreary shower of chilly rain are there to greet me. Before I know it, it's Friday again, the last day of school before winter break. There's a constant hum and buzz in the atmosphere of Mr. London's fifth-grade classroom that morning as we all try (and fail) to focus on finishing up our work. The afternoon is reserved for class parties, so after lunch, we're home free!

5L's party begins the moment our room moms arrive. We have a blast. My classmates and I dip red and green plastic spoons in melted chocolate bark and then roll them in crushed peppermint to make holiday coffee-stirrers to use as presents. When the chocolate has dried around the spoons, the room moms wrap them in festive cellophane and tie them off with curly gold ribbon.

We play games, including a Secret Santa present swap (I end up with a candy-cane-striped teddy bear holding a tube of hand lotion, from a girl named Bryn) and decorate-the-Christmas-tree-blindfolded, which is sort of the holiday version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. At the very end of the party, we pig out on Christmas cookies, frosted Christmas cupcakes, chocolate candy, red and green tortilla chips with salsa, Chex Mix, pretzels, fresh fruit, and holiday punch made with 7-Up and raspberry sherbet.