The split-level ranch house was lit up inside and out. Darla hosted a Christmas Eve open house every year and neighbors had been in and out all afternoon and evening. Blossom had a red bow on in place of a collar, and as the party wound down the girls took her upstairs to the bedroom they shared, where they had been instructed to change into their Christmas pajamas, get in bed, and read their new books. New pajamas and a new book were a household tradition on Christmas Eve in the Dixon house, apparently. Lucky hadn’t known what to say when Darla asked her what types of books she liked. The last book she’d read was Les Misérables; she’d left it behind in Novi without ever finding out what had become of the wretched Jean Valjean and the tragic Fantine. But she knew Darla would think it strange for a girl her age to ask for that book. So she asked for the latest Goosebumps story. Stephanie had asked for a V. C. Andrews novel, and squealed as she read, vowing to lend it to “Andi” after she was finished.
Eventually, Steph put her book down. “I can’t concentrate,” she announced. “I’m too excited.” She scratched her dog’s ears. “Blossom, if you hear Santa’s reindeer tonight, you have to bark real loud and wake me up, okay?” Even though she was a year older than Lucky, Steph still believed in Santa Claus, and fervently. Lucky didn’t have the heart to tell her there was no such thing. Her father had never bothered to hide the truth from her, and he’d mentioned in an aside to her the other day that he had been tasked by Darla with finding hiding places for all the “Santa gifts.” He’d also casually suggested that Lucky ask for jewelry, and perhaps gold. “Maybe a locket or something. Something we could have melted down when we—”
He’d seen her face and stopped talking. “You never think about anything but money,” Lucky had said. This was the first time in her life she’d really felt how magical Christmas could be, and he was ruining it.
“You don’t understand what it takes to survive,” he replied.
“We’re surviving fine. We can just stay here and we don’t have to steal anything—”
Darla arrived home then, arms laden with shopping bags, and the conversation ended.
“Hellooo,” Steph was saying now. “Zone out much?”
“Sorry. I’m really excited, too. So excited I can’t think about anything else.”
“You’re going to love Christmas here. Family tradition is a pile of presents for each person, like a huge pile.” Steph’s eyes were dancing with anticipation. “But first you have to open your stocking.” She pursed her lips. “I have something for you that’s really special. I don’t want it to get lost in all the chaos.” She leaped from her bed and started rummaging in her closet until she unearthed a very small box, which she handed to Lucky.
“What’s this?” Lucky asked, staring down at it. She’d gotten Stephanie something, too, a peasant top she had admired at a store at the mall. But looking down at this small box, she realized there was something special inside. Something more special than a peasant top.
“You shouldn’t have,” she began, just as Steph said, “I bought it with my chore money.” Now Lucky felt even more ashamed. Steph’s mom had paid for the top. Lucky had used her chore money to buy a sterling silver tie clip for her dad. She had wanted this Christmas to be as special for him as she could make it, hoping that seeing how they could live, how happy they could all be, would make him want to stay beyond the year he had promised her—which was rapidly running out. Three more months.
Stephanie came over to sit on Lucky’s bed, and the Goosebumps book thumped to the floor.
“Girls!” Darla called from downstairs. “Almost time for lights-out!”
“Just a few more minutes, Mom,” Steph called back, then turned to Lucky again. “Come on, open it.”
“All right, all right!” Lucky said. She carefully parted the tape from the paper without ripping it at all.
It was a pale blue jewelry box. She flipped it open. Nestled inside was a golden charm bracelet. There were two charms: one was a heart with the word Sisters engraved on it, and the other was in the shape of a dog that looked just like Blossom. “I thought the gold would match the necklace from your mom,” Steph said. “I’m going to add one on your birthday, and one again next Christmas. Forever, for the rest of your life, I’ll get you charms.”
Lucky started to cry. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t accept this.”
Steph was aghast. “Don’t you like it? I’m sorry, I thought—”
“No, no. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that—it’s too much. Nothing is right about any of this.” She swallowed back a gasping sob. Any day now, Steph and her mom would find out about all the lies she and her father had told. Any day now, it would all fall apart.
Lucky put the bracelet back in the box and squeezed her eyes shut. A fat tear rolled out and down her cheek.
“I don’t understand why you’re so sad,” Steph said. “Does it… does it make you think of your mom, is that why?”
Lucky opened her eyes. Steph had given her an answer. She wiped her cheeks. “Yes,” she lied. “I don’t want to wear any jewelry other than my necklace. It feels disloyal, somehow…” Lucky covered her face with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said through her fingers. “I really, really am.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry.”
There was a noise at the door and the girls looked up. Darla and John were standing in the doorframe.
“Everything okay in here, girls?” Darla asked. Lucky wiped her tears away with her fists. She took a deep breath.
“Can I talk to my dad?” Lucky said. “Privately?”
* * *
In the old Buick later, Lucky could still see her breath. There hadn’t been time to wait for the car to warm up, of course. After Steph had finally fallen asleep, Lucky had gathered a few things, whatever clothes and books she could find in the dark, and shoved them in her school bag. She had taken the bracelet and charms, knowing her father would scold her later if she didn’t.
“You could take a few,” her father had whispered as they had tiptoed through the living room, Blossom on their heels, her tail wagging. Lucky had ignored the suggestion, bypassed all the presents, and carefully opened the front door while her father held the dog, one of the many things she was going to have to forget about this place.
Perhaps Steph thought the sounds of them leaving the house were the sounds of Santa and his reindeer, or perhaps she just slept right through it. It didn’t matter now. They were on the highway, miles away. They were never going to see Steph or Darla again.
Lucky exhaled in a big white puff as her father sped up on the empty road; no one was out on Christmas Eve; everyone who was coming home for the holidays had already arrived. It was only people like them who would be out on a night like this. The drifters. The rolling stones.
“Anything I can do to make it feel better, kiddo? It’s Christmas, after all.”