Page 62 of Christmas Criminal

Sunday, December 15th

Istomp back to the high school parking lot with my bag slung over my shoulder. I don't know what's going on, but the fact that people are hiding things from me makes me very uncomfortable. Especially Christina. She tells me everything.

Since high school, she's been the only person I could truly trust. The only person who saw what high school did to me and loved me regardless. She's never asked me to be anyone but my authentic self, but she also won't hesitate to snap at me and tell me I'm being a growly bitch when I've had enough Christmas and she's just getting started.

She was my best friend when I had friends, and it bothers me to think that she's been scared to tell me about some big development in her life. One that she's obviously excited about, if she's telling our mom about it.

A deep sense of guilt hits me in the gut as it dawns on me that she's probably keeping this a secret because she doesn't want to hurt me. I've been moody about community service, and overthe past few weeks I've probably impressed upon her a little too strongly how angry I am about being forced back into this town.

Right when she's gearing up to make a big, exciting change in her life. One that unfortunately will result in me being stuck in this town more frequently. Because as much as I love our apartment in the city, with the sunset view over the river and proximity to all the bars and fun things to do, I think we both know my favorite thing about our apartment is her.

And she's leaving.

By the time I get back to my mom's house, I've worked myself into a frenzy. I'm upset that our sister powwow is ending. That she'll be gone and I won't be able to see her as often as I want to.

But most of all, I'm upset that she didn't feel like she could tell me this. I'm upset that that's who I've become in our relationship.

She has her leg up on a pillow on the couch when I get there, a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. My mom is in the kitchen, Christmas music playing as she flips a pancake on the stove.

"Noelle!" she says, stepping around the counter to give me a quick hug when I pass by. "Honey, we thought you'd be gone all day!"

I nod, returning her hug quickly but keeping my focus on Christina. She's been eyeing me since I walked in, her plate of food untouched in front of her.

I leave my bag on the barstool next to the counter and head straight for her, dropping into the armchair covered in a fuzzy red and white blanket.

She purses her lips, her eyes dipping before landing on mine again. "So, I take it you know."

I huff, leaning forward in my chair and grabbing her hand from where it rests on the edge of the couch. "I'm sad that you felt like you couldn’t just tell me."

She lets out a long breath as my mom sets a pile of pancakes and a smattering of breakfast foods on the coffee table in front of me. "I didn't want to tell you until it was a sure thing, but I never really believed it was a sure thing until it was happening and then it felt too late."

"But you're excited about it, aren't you?"

She nods. "Yeah, really excited. I just... I know this is going to really interrupt your life. And I wasn't sure how to tell you."

I throw my hands in the air as I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair.

The news winded me, sure. My chest is still tight half an hour after leaving Nick and Hank at the fair.

But Iamexcited for my sister. She doesn’t make decisions flippantly, so I can only assume she’s analyzed this from every angle already and knows this is the right choice. Not just for her but for all of us.

My chest squeezes when I think about Nick. What it might mean for us, if the distance between us wasn’t so great.

I shrug, pressing my lips together as I catch Christina’s eye. "I'll deal with it. And I guess I should say I'm sorry, because if you felt like you couldn't tell me, it's probably because I've historically made things difficult when it comes to this town."

She shrugs noncommittally. "You don't always make it easy."

"I know I don't." I sigh, thinking about it for a moment. "I think I have to find a way to get over it."

Christina snorts. "How so?"

"I don't know. I feel like I grabbed onto you after high school because you were my only friend. And it's unfair to you, to be in that position. I'm older and wiser now, and if I'm being totally honest, it has felt really good recently to tell the people who deserve it to shove their assholery right up their butts."

Christina's brow furrows as my mom takes the place of the pillow underneath her leg, patting it as she settles her cast on my mom’s lap.

She turns back to me. "This sounds like dangerous territory. Maybe we should keep you out. You can visit for Christmas and birthdays, but otherwise you stay in the city."

"Oh," my mom says, whacking her lightly on the arm before turning to me. "You come visit anytime you want. If you could just refrain from throwing eggs, we can deal with anything else."

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