Page 118 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“If I’m honest,” I say, “I didn’t expect to hear back from you.”

She smiles. “If I hadn’t read your application, then I would have assumed you’d applied to earn brownie points somewhere. That was the biggest question,” she says. “Your motivation.”

I don’t say anything. There’s nothing more to add to what I wrote in my application.

“I was moved, Jace, and I believe in second chances.” She continues to stare at me, like she’s performing a CAT scan of my soul. “We’d like to try you on a probationary period. As I mentioned in my voicemail, we’ve had an influx of new applicants, and there’s a boy who needs someone like you. His name is Aidan Fisher. He moved here from Charlotte about a month ago, and his father left him and his mother just after Christmas last year. He’s six.”

I swallowed, surprised by the way this news tugs at the loose thread in my heart. The one that’s been unraveling for years. “Six?”

For some reason, I expected an older kid.

“Yes. He’s receiving occupational therapy, but we feel like what he really needs is a buddy. Especially since his father is no longer in the picture.”

I nod.

“Just so we’re clear: your sole responsibility is to be his friend. Give him some stability. We’d like you to see him two or three times the first week. The first few times, you’ll meet in the school library. One of us will hang back and watch you two interact, and if all goes well, you’ll be able to leave the school and walk to the park. How does that sound?”

“It sounds…” Warmth spreads through my chest. “It sounds great.”

“Good!” Susan says, clapping her hands together. “How about we start tomorrow? We’ll meet at four o’clock at Thomas Edison Elementary. Plan on spending about an hour with him.”

“Okay,” I say, still amazed this is happening. “Thank you.”

“Thankyou, Jace. Now, let me tell you a little bit about Aidan.”

The next day,I show up at Thomas Edison Elementary a few minutes early, surprised that my hands are sweaty. Susan is waiting for me just outside the entrance. The temperature dropped today, and she pulls her coat closer to her body.

“Ms. Duckworth,” I say, acknowledging her with a nod.

“Hello, Jace. And call me Susan. Aidan is in the library.” Her gaze drops to the reusable shopping bag slung over my shoulder.

“I brought a few games my nephew enjoyed at that age. Since I’m a stranger, I figured he’d feel more comfortable if we had an activity or two.” Conversations with new people can be difficult for kids on the spectrum, so an activity will help. At least I know Aidan is verbal. There’s extensive training for buddies who are paired with nonverbal kids.

Her smile brightens. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea. We had some activities prepared, but I think this is better.”

I follow her inside and down a hall until we stop just outside the library. The wall is lined with windows on the top half, and I can see a dark-haired little boy sitting at a small table. He’s staring at a spot on the wall and running the zipper up and down on his sweatshirt. Two women are talking behind the librarian’s desk, next to a stack of fake presents that probably have been owned by the school since the ’80s. There are several holiday displays on top of the five-foot-tall bookshelves. One is a twelve-inch pink Christmas tree with silver and hot pink paper clips for decorations, and another is a Hanukkah display featuring a menorah with a few dreidels scattered around it. But it’s the foot-and-a-half-tall Santa surrounded by smaller elves that catches my eye. It looks like some older kids have made a few alterations. Santa is holding two dreidels in his hand like they’re craps dice, and a couple of elves have Monopoly money in their hands as if they’re placing bets.

“Aidan’s nervous,” Susan says. “His teacher, Ms. Liu, is going to introduce you. She’ll leave soon afterward if Aidan feels comfortable. He knows you’re coming, but he’s anxious.”

“Understandable,” I say. I’m nervous too, but I don’t admit it.

She opens the door and motions for me to enter.

The little boy’s dark eyes flit to me, but he looks away quickly. One of the women behind the desk glances up at me. She’s young, probably younger than I am, and the look in her eyes goes from friendly to speculative as she walks over. “Hi, I’m Rebecca Liu. I take it you’re Jace, Aidan’s new buddy?”

“Jace Hagan,” I say, offering my hand.

She shakes it, and I notice her gaze lingering on my bicep, but then her cheeks flush, and she says, “Aidan is a little anxious.”

“No worries,” I say, shifting my focus to him. He’s staring off into the distance, but Susan is watching me. She’s taken a seatnext to the librarian’s desk. I feel like Aidan and I are in a fish tank at an aquarium, and I can’t help thinking it will make him more nervous.

Ms. Liu has turned her attention to my new friend. “Aidan, this is Mr. Jace. He’s come to hang out with you for a bit.”

Aidan glances up at me as if I’m an algebra equation he’s supposed to solve.

“Can I sit with you?” I ask, motioning to the chair across from him.

He nods, then resumes working his zipper and peers down at the table.

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