The Sound of Ice

24

On Christmas Eve, Hailey, Veronica, and I get matching pajamas. They're red flannel with a reindeer on the chest pocket, and Hailey puts hers on in the morning and wears it the entire day. 

Sam comes over in the afternoon. His uncle is working today, so Mom invited him over for dinner. Hailey gets to the door first when the bell rings.

"Look at my pajamas, Sam!" she says. Veronica braided her hair earlier, and she's wearing fluffy snowflake socks. "Do you like them?"

"I love them," says Sam, stepping through the front door and pulling off his coat. "It smells delicious in here."

"That's the lasagna!" calls Mom from the kitchen. We always have lasagna on Christmas Eve. She sticks her head past the kitchen doorway and waves at Sam, a Christmas oven mitt on her hand. "Come in, come in! We're decorating cookies for Santa now."

Hailey grabs Sam's hand and pulls him towards the kitchen counter, and I lean against the back of the sofa. The warm scent of fresh shortbread cookies and sweet frosting mingle in the air. A Christmas tune plays quietly from the radio, and laughter floats from the kitchen. I tuck my hands into my sweatshirt pocket and smile.

Under the tree, a small collection of sadly-wrapped gifts sits. Well, the sadly-wrapped ones are from me. I got a necklace for Mom, a set of colorful pens for Veronica, and a Barbie for Hailey. I think I did okay this year. Sam went shopping with me a few weeks ago and helped with the necklace. I don't know about any of that stuff.

In the kitchen, Hailey giggles. "No, Sam, Santa's hat can't be blue."

"Why not?"

"Because it should be - Veronica, stop eating the frosting!"

Veronica shrugs and licks red frosting off a butter knife. "I'm done," she says, setting it in the sink as she glances at me. "Cameron, come decorate with us." 

I stand beside Sam at the counter, picking up a cookie in the shape of a pine tree. Sam nudges my arm. "Are you packed?"

"Yeah, pretty much. My suitcase is almost ready."

"You'll have so much fun." He looks at me and smiles. He's wearing his Harvard sweatshirt.

"Yeah," says Hailey. "We're going to watch every game, Cameron."

"Every game?" I make a face at her and she shrieks with laughter.

Mom scoops a pile of sliced peppers into a salad bowl. "Yes, every game," she says. "Go Cameron!"

"What are you gonna do if you win?" asks Hailey, biting into a cookie overloaded with frosting and sprinkles.

"If Canada wins the tournament? I don't know. Celebrate?"

Her big brown eyes go all glossy. "Wow, I hope you win."

I smile. "Yeah, me too."

After the cookies are finished, we all sprawl out in the living room, the fire crackling. Homemade knit stockings line the mantle. We pull out an old board game and play on the coffee table, sitting on the rug, laughing as the wind rattles the windowpanes. 

When it gets closer to dinnertime, Hailey and Veronica go to their room to wash up for dinner. Sam and I go into my bedroom. 

"I have a present for you," he says, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands. He sits on my bed and holds out a box wrapped in reindeer patterned paper. 

"Thank you," I say. "I have a gift for you too." It's probably the best gift I've ever bought anyone. It's a big book full of glossy NASA photographs of planets and space and stuff. It was expensive as hell. 

I take the gift from him and run my hands over the shimmery wrapper. "Should I open it now or tomorrow morning?"

"Whatever," says Sam. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay. Here." I hand him the NASA photography book, very badly wrapped. "Open it tomorrow too."

He smiles. "Thank you." 

Sam shivers and looks around my room at all the hockey posters and trophies, darkening evening light pouring in through my window. Snowflakes melt on the glass. His gaze lands on the Leafs poster on my ceiling, and I look up, too.

"I'm going to miss you when you're gone," he says. "You know, you're missing a few days of school."

"I know, I hate that."

He smiles. "Shut up." 

I look back down. He's sitting close enough that I can count every freckle, even every eyelash, and the corner of his mouth is turned up slightly. 

"I'm going to miss you too," I say. 

His eyes meet mine. And then Sam Hughes is kissing me.

I kissed a girl once. When I was fourteen. Veronica dragged me to one of her friend's birthday parties, and a big group of us sat in this dark, damp basement and played spin the bottle. When it was my turn, the bottle landed on a girl named Mia. She had yellow-y blonde hair and pink braces, and she tasted like spit and bubblegum lip gloss.

Sam doesn't taste like that at all.

Sam tastes like honey and warm sugar, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat of him radiating on my skin. Sam smells like frosting and cinnamon and pine trees and the cotton of sweatshirts and clean snow and shampoo, and his lips are warm and soft and so are mine and I am kissing Sam Hughes. And that's when I realize. I'm kissing Sam Hughes back.

I'm shoving him away roughly. "What the fuck?" That's me. I say that. I stand up. Sam's eyes are wide and scared.

"I don't know why I did that," says Sam, standing up slowly. "I'm sorry, Cameron -"

"Get out." My voice is so cold and mean. Am I saying that? My finger is pointing to the door. 

"Cameron -"

"Get out right now." Why am I saying these things? Why am I saying these things? Sam tastes like honey. "Go."

Sam leaves. I slam the door behind him. I hear him talking in the kitchen, the voices muffled.

"Sam! Are you leaving? Dinner is almost ready!"

"It's my uncle, he's home now, he wants to eat with me."

"Well, invite him over! There's certainly enough food for one more."

"It's okay, I should go."

"What happened? You don't have to go right now -"

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Beckett." 

I hear the front door shut softly. My head is pressed against my bedroom door and my breathing is shaky. Sam Hughes tastes like honey. Why would he kiss me? My hands are shaking. What am I supposed to do now? I feel sick. I say that I'm sick. I skip dinner and go to bed early.

~

On Christmas morning, I open my gifts. Veronica makes pancakes. Sam's gift to me is unopened and I kick it underneath my bed. It's snowing outside. I hug my family goodbye. Of course I'm sad, I'm going to miss them. I take the public bus to the airport. It's busy and loud and muffled.

I get a window seat on the plane. I think about hockey. Of course I'm thinking about hockey, I'm going to Finland to play. When St. Anne fades into the distance, a minuscule dot thousands of meters below the plane, I'm relieved. 

A/N skdjfhksjdhfk you guys