Page 29 of Christmas Criminal

It might not be the healing that she wants or needs, but I hope there’s a little part of her that’s talking to her high school self and smoothing over that old wound.

Robbie purses his lips, shrugging. "I was thinking about going to the gym," he admits.

"As long as you're doing it for you," she says. She rests the drill on the ground and puts her hands on her hips. "And do me a favor: go to a boxing gym or something so you can learn how to knock Tommy Rothwell the fuck out."

"Noelle!" I scold, and she stomps her foot.

Just when I thought she was doing so damn good.

But if anything, I find her even more charming. That underlying ferocity that oozes from her. I’ve always thought there’s something special about a person who doesn’t try to inflict their pain on others, but does everything in their power to stop it from taking down someone else.

She might be a troublemaker and the cutest damn criminal I’ve ever seen, but she has a kind soul, too.

"I'm sorry! I'm mad. Don't actually do that," she says. "But god, I can't believe kids are still this mean!"

"Yeah. High school sucks," I say, and they both whip toward me.

"What? I'm not immune to it. There's only so much I can do."

Noelle glares at me. "I bet you were cool in school."

I shake my head. "I really wasn't."

"I bet you were valedictorian or something," she says.

"Nope."

"You were at least, like, a sports dude."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

She gestures to me. "You're built like a tank. Surely you were on some sort of team."

I bite my lip, wondering how much of my high school experience I should tell her. It wasn't exactly typical, and bullying was the least of my concerns after my mom’s death. "I was a mathlete, and I was in debate club."

She snorts, and a second later, Robbie is laughing along with her.

"And before you ask, yes, I got made fun of for both."

When we finishour hut and head back to the high school, Robbie is in better spirits. He's not his normal, boisterous self, but he does seem a little more comfortable in his own skin.

Sometimes all it takes is the validation that someone agrees your experience is shit, too.

Noelle and I wait on the stairs until Robbie's ride arrives, and he waves over his shoulder as he slips inside.

I wait until the car starts moving before turning to Noelle. "An ass worth eating?" I ask. "Really?

She shrugs sheepishly. "If I'm being totally honest, that's how I got over it. You can spend your whole life fighting with something that can't be fixed, or you can embrace it and make the best of the rest."

"So, ass worth eating," I say.

"Hey, if eczema is going to make my skin look like shit, at least the rest of me is edible." She shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it was powerful for me to work on other parts of myself. I got my skin under control over time, once I stopped having to go to swim class and once I figured out that I have to use only the Downy sensitive stuff. But it wasn't an easy process, and it waskind of nice that when my skin mostly cleared up, it wasn't like I was picking out the next worst thing to work on. I kind of realized, one day, that my skin looked better. And that I was... borderline happy with the way I looked."

"Only borderline?" I ask, and I realize only after the words leave my mouth that my reaction is based purely onmyview of her.

Which is that she's a way-too-cute little brunette–yes–with an ass worth eating.

"Like I said, no one is ever totally happy with themselves. But I think it's really powerful when you get to a point where you can accept yourself as you are. If there's stuff you want to change, sure, do it. But unless you can find a way to accept yourselfnow, you can make all the improvements in the world and it'll never make a difference."

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