Page 1 of A Kiss For The Holidays

Asher

Prologue

Swiping a dark brown mop of hair from my eyes, I turn the page and scan the contents, taking in the descriptions and the pictures in the book on my lap. The air is warm around me, sweet like the blossoms hanging over my head, and in the far distance, I can hear a dog barking. Mum and Dad are busy cleaning the house ahead of my grandparents arriving to help take care of me over the summer holidays, so I’ve come to my favourite spot in the park opposite my house.

I’m just going over a particularly interesting paragraph when I'm jolted sideways as a body much larger than my own knocks into me. I huff, reaching for my book which has fallen open onto the grass, before turning to see the cause of the disruption.

“Hi! What are you doing? What’s your name? I’m Dalton, but you can call me Dalt.” I take in the unknown boy next to me, parting my lips to tell him my name, but I don’t get a chance because words keep falling from his mouth.

“Someone at my old school called me Dal but I hated that cause it sounds like Val which is my nan’s name. She's lovely but I don't want my name to sound like hers. And my neighbour - well old neighbour now - she called everyone ‘doll’ which sounds so much like Dal. So, you can call me Dalt. What’s your name? How old are you? Do you like….”

Staring intently at the brown haired boy, I wonder how he breathes, with the way he doesn’t seem to even take a breath between words. It really is fascinating to me. I scan his features while he rambles on - he’s bigger than me but he looks about my age,his eyes are blue and his hair is short and spiky. Where did he come from? I’ve never seen him at school, and my school is tiny so I would have if he went there.

“So, will you?” The boy asks while nudging my shoulder with his, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Will I what?” I must have missed his question. There were so many that I lost track, but he’s silent now so I guess this is the one he wants answered.

“Will you be my friend?”

“I don’t even know you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think them through. Mum says we must always be kind with our words and I wonder if mine sounded unkind. The smile spreading across the boy's face tells me maybe they weren't.

“I told you, I’m Dalton.” He raises an eyebrow at me like he doesn’t understand why I’m not keeping up with this whole exchange.

“I know your name, but where did you come from?” I don’t think it’s a silly question. There are no other kids on our street and though I am sitting near the playground, I’m fairly hidden away near the treeline to the woods. Mum can still see me if she looks out the front window - I’m not allowed into the woods alone - but still, there are no other kids or families in this part of the park right now. Except for this new boy.

“Over there,” Dalton says, and I follow the line of his arm to where he's pointing at my house across the park. Only, I see now that it’s not my house he’s aiming at but the one next door, the one with the big red moving truck outside. Mr Ronald, who had lived next door to us, died a few months ago and his house has been empty ever since. “We moved in today and mum told me to come play in the park while they unpack. I have a big brother. He’s sixteen, but he’s a bit grumpy so he said he’d rather stay in his new room and set up his Xbox. I went to the playground first, but there was no one there and then I saw you. How old are you?”

Turning away from the row of matching white houses that make up our street, I face Dalton, adjust my legs which are starting to go tingly from the way I'm sitting and put the book on the grass. “I’m nine. How old are you?”

“I’m eight, but I’ll be nine next week. Mum says I can have a party, but I don’t have any friends here and school is on holiday, so I don’t know who to invite. But if you’re my friend, you could come?” His eyes, which had been wide open - reminding me of a puppy - close briefly before snapping back open. He sounds sad and I don’t like that; I hate it when people are sad. I especially don’t like this boy being sad.

“We moved here from the city,” he carries on. “Mum is having another baby andDad said it would be nicer if we had a bigger house. So… will you be my friend and come to my party?”

Turning away from him, I see that my mum has come outside and is now laughing with a blonde lady with a pregnant belly the same size as mum’s, where she’s growing my sister. I think that even if I don’t say yes to being his friend, we will end up in each other's lives anyway. Dad says Mum is something called anextrovert- he says it means she enjoys making friends and she seems to really like laughing with that lady who, I think, must be Dalton’s mum.

“Okay,” I nod. “I will be your friend.” It gives me a fluttery feeling in my stomach when he smiles and jumps to his feet with excitement. I don’t have many friends. I spend most of my time alone, so this is a big thing for me. I stand so the new boy is no longer towering over me and wait for him to suggest what we should do next.

“Great!” He spins around on his feet then bends down to pick up a long stick which he swishes through the air like a sword, making whooshing noises. He has a lot of energy and reminds me of Farmer Johnson’s collie dog who vibrates with energy when she's chasing sheep.

Dad says that some people are quiet like me, and others are more active and outgoing - I think this boy is outgoing and I like that about him because I would never have had the courage to talk to him first.

Dalton throws the stick down and a horrified look passes my face as he spits in his hand and holds it out for me. “Let's spit shake and promise to be best friends.”

I shake my head. “Gross, no, I am not touching your spit. Do you know how many germs are in there?” Dalton frowns but wipes his hand on the blue shorts he’s wearing.

“Hmmm, maybe we can pinky shake then?” He reaches out his pinky finger and I place mine in his, watching as his grubby finger wraps around mine. He moves our hands up and down in a shake and then we stay like that for a few moments, just holding each other's pinkies before dropping them to our sides. “There, now we are best friends for always.”

“For always?” I ask, the phrase sounding a little unusual to me.

“Yeah, for always. Because forever sounds too much like never and always means no matter what, even if things are bad. Always.”

Huh, his logic is interesting, but I don’t say anything. Dalton doesn’t seem to notice because his attention is now on kicking a piece of bark along the forest floor. I watch his every movement before he turns his attention back to me. “What do you like to do?”

I glance at the book on the floor at my feet -A Discovery of Trees in Great Britain -and point to it. “I like to read.”

He plops down on the ground and holds the book in his lap, opening it to the first page as I sit back down so we are knee to knee. “You enjoy reading about trees?” He scrunches up his nose as though smelling something bad. “That sounds boring.”

“It’s not boring,” I reply, snatching the book from his lap and wondering how he could find something so interesting, boring. “I like trees, they’re a very important part of the ecosystem. My dad is an arborist,” I add proudly, and if it’s possible, Dalton’s nose gets even more scrunchy, and his eyebrows pull together.

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