Page 37 of Peppermint Bark

Alex

“Get in loser, we’re going tree shopping.” Mallory yelled from the passenger window of Grace’s truck. My scowl must have been epic because she clarified, “It’s from Mean Girls, chill out.”

I was in a shitty mood, trying to catch up on work I missed yesterday to sleep, but the clients were jackasses. Why had I agreed to this stupid outing?

I flung open the passenger door. “You. Back seat.”

My sister had the gall to look offended. “She’s my friend, I get shotgun!”

“Your friend? Where were you when she was making a million pies alone?”

“Working,” Mallory tried to stomp her foot, but her short legs grazed the floor. “Where were you when she —”

“Why don’t you drive, Alex?” Grace offered loudly, turning down the volume on the Christmas music.

Mallory’s mouth fell open. “You’d let him drive Yolanda?”

“I thought that was Yolanda,” Grace pointed to that cheap hula dancer, who flicked her grass skirt.

“No, Yolanda is the truck, she's the truck’s Patronus,” Mallory scoffed. “You never let anybody drive Yolanda.”

As I crossed to the driver's side, Grace shifted onto the bench seat — this truck was old enough to have a bench seat — and muttered about a finicky transmission. That’s bullshit, the transmission was fine, but Mallory’s eyes glazed over.

Grace sat as a buffer between me and the brat. My hand brushed against the denim on her thigh when I shifted gears.

When mariachi music started playing, Mallory squealed and reached across Grace to twist up the volume knob. “Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad!” she yelled as she thrashed and flailed. Grace wiggled, a gentle hip shake and shoulder shimmy.

“I want to wish you a merry Christmas,” they sang — or more accurately, Grace sang and Mallory screamed. I gripped tighter, wishing for my Mercedes’ steering wheel volume controls, and gritted my teeth. After the first chorus, Grace twisted the volume down. When Mallory moaned in protest, Grace elbowed her.

“Sorry about that,” Grace said. I grunted. “My mom sang it to me and my brothers. Mal said the song needed a new memory, so now we dance whenever we hear it together, and if we’re apart, we call each other to sing it.” Her voice lightened. “Well, she mostly calls and yells it at me.”

My ears were still ringing from hearing it in such close quarters, but I bit back a smile as Grace directed me to the next exit.

“Too short,” I told my sister as we walked down the aisle of Douglas firs. I was surprised at how empty the tree farm was … but all my childhood memories were visits on the day after Thanksgiving, and it was only a week until Christmas. Grace’s “bonus tree” suggestion was a good one to lift my mom’s spirits, but the selection was meager.

“Nothing wrong with being short,” Mallory said, elbowing me in the ribs. Or trying, but landing in my belly.

Grace hummed like she didn’t want me to rag on my sister, so I said, “Fine for people, not for trees.”

“What about this one?” Grace asked.

“It leans to the right," I said.

“A curve makes things more interesting.” Mallory waggled her brows.

I made a grossed out face and shot down trees that were too brown, too asymmetrical, and too dry. When I rejected one for a giant bald spot, my sister teased, “Not sure that you should criticize a little baldness, Lex, you could be heading there any day now.” She reached up to ruffle my winter hat, then looked around in concern, “Hey, where’s Grace?”

Behind us were only our two footprints on the path, so I backtracked until I found her in a small clearing. The way that she bit her lip with her arms wrapped around her middle stopped me in place. My sister caught up — those little legs take forever — and I held out an arm to block her path.

Grace’s head tilted back at a tall, uneven tree with brown patches. Obvious reject, good only for firewood, but I bit back the criticism, trying to figure out why she stopped.

The tree was surrounded by stumps like all its friends had been chopped down. It was tall,imperfect, lonely … and beautiful.

Of course Grace loved this tree.

When I looked at my sister, her blue eyes mirrored how I felt.

I shifted my weight and Grace looked up, sniffled and ran a gloved finger under her eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your search. Did you find a good one?”

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