I Hate Christmas! - 12/26 (complete)

[WR]

I Hate Christmas
By WR

Disclaimer: I, in no way, am associated with the actors, writers, producers, etc. of Roswell. The rights to the show belong to 20th Century Fox, Jason Katims, the WB, etc.
Summary: An Alternate Universe. No one is an Alien. Liz has grown up in a Foster Family who treated her like a servant. Sound familiar? Can she escape her Cinderella-like situation and find her own Prince Charming? There’s one problem. Not a glass slippers in sight.
Category: M&L
Rating: No Rating Yet
Authors Note: I hope you enjoy it. Can you please overlook the fact that there is not a single branch of Denny’s in Boston anymore? At least, not according to their Restaurant Locator.
Author: WR


Once in awhile,
Right in the middle of an ordinary life,
Love gives us a fairy tale.
~ by Anonymous ~


Prologue

I hate Christmas.

Not in the conventional Dickens-esque sense that I go around spouting ‘Bah Humbug’ at anyone who wishes me a merry one. But in the sense that makes Christmas a time for families. You see, this time of the year really drives it home for me that I don’t have one. A family, I mean. And because of my background, friends are a pretty rare commodity, too.

I was born in 1988 at White Sands Missile Base near Las Cruces, New Mexico. My father was a Military Policeman, and this meant that although Las Cruces will always be my birthplace, it was never my home. Every two years, My father was posted somewhere new. When I turned two, we moved to Fort Wainwright in Alaska. I was four when we were sent to the US Naval academy in Maryland. My sixth birthday saw us transferring to Laughlin Air Force Base in Texas and… You get the picture, right? How can anyone build a good base of friends when you know that by the time you truly know them, you will be forced to forget them and try to make some new ones. Oh, and for those of you slow at math’s, I’m eighteen now.

That explains my lack of friends, I hope. But what about my family? Well, hopping as we were, from one state to another, you can lose track of all those aunts, uncles and cousins, not to mention grandparents, really quickly. I’m not even sure if I have any. As for my parents, well…

My parents loved me, very much. I know my Daddy really wanted a son, but he never once let it show in the way that he treated me, other than the fact that he was always taking me to the park to play baseball, or football. Sure, I was raised with the strict discipline that military fathers always seem to impose, but there was always time for ‘R & R’. He would tell me every night as he tucked me up in bed that he loved me so very much and that he would protect me from everything.

My Mom and I had a great relationship, too, and we did all girl’s things together like my friends all did. Shopping for clothes, dressing up, and even played with make-up. She even took me to get my ears pierced when I was just nine years old. I felt so grown up until my Dad saw them and got mad at Mom and yelled at her. But he didn’t stay mad at us for long and bought me these little earrings in the shape of a butterfly. One of the things I remember the most about my mom was the way she used to look at me when I told her that I couldn’t do something. She would encourage me to have another go, and I would say, I’ll try. She would put on this funny voice from that Yoda character in the Star Wars films, and say, ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’ I would start to giggle, but then I would just… do whatever it was that I was struggling with. My mom gave me all my confidence. My Mom gave me wings.

It really was a great shock when she fell sick. We were living in Arlington, Massachusetts, where my Dad was posted at AFB Hanscom. I was only eleven when it happened. I know now she had developed a brain tumor, but at the time, I knew only that she was sick, and seemed to spend all of her time in bed, being visited by strange men and women with funny names. Doctors and Nurses, all of them. I used to read to her, every night, until she fell asleep. And then one morning, she didn’t wake up. It wasn’t until I was with the Hardings that I found out she had had an aneurysm. She looked so peaceful as she lay there, without pain for the first time in so long, but I still cried. It was the first time that I really understood what a broken heart truly felt like. And it’s never really been whole, since.

Apart from the priest and the people who lowered the coffin, there was only my Dad and me at the funeral. And we held each other so tightly…

I’ll give you three guesses what time of year it was when my Mom died, but you’re only going to need one. My Dad took down every decoration in the house and told me in a very sad voice that Christmas had been cancelled for us this year. Then he started to cry, again, while he drank from this big bottle. I cried myself to sleep… again, while my father drank himself the same way. Again.


My Dad played with me less and less as the year passed. His drinking started earlier and earlier, and it was then that I noticed our possessions were getting fewer and fewer. All of my pretty colored dresses vanished, but as I had no chances to wear them anymore, I never really minded. My clothes grew more and more worn. By the time summer had arrived, he was drinking right from the moment he got home, and we never played together anymore. He never tucked me up into bed, and he never told me that he loved me. And neither did he ever tell me that he would protect me from everything. Because we both knew it would have been a lie.

One night, when there was nothing to drink at home, he had gone out to buy some. The police told me that while he was in the liquor store, two men had come in to rob it. When the criminals had started to assault a young woman, I guess the protective instinct in my Dad just kicked in and even though he never lifted a finger to stop them stealing from the storeowner, he couldn’t stand by to watch a poor woman suffer. He didn’t have any weapons, but they had handguns. I heard they took twenty six bullets out of his body.

And because of the time of the year it was, do you really need any guesses as to what disguises the robbers used? I don’t find him so jovial anymore. He is not a jolly old elf to me, and I just can’t laugh in spite of myself.

There was a full contingent from my Dad’s regiment at his funeral, along with a dozen officers, as well as the woman he had helped along with some of her family. Surrounded by all these people, I had never felt lonelier in my life.

Even though I knew my Dad couldn’t protect me from everything, it was a strange feeling to think that now, he could never protect me from anything.

We hadn’t put up any decorations yet, so there was none to take down. I would have, though. I didn’t feel much like celebrating that year anyway. You know when they say that winning is a hard habit to break? Well, so is losing.


Being alone, with no known relatives, I was placed with a foster family, the Hardings, and completed my High School in Arlington. For the first time, I was living somewhere longer than two years. But don’t get the impression that I made some lifelong friends. Do you know how hard it is to break into the cliques that have been formed since childhood? And add in the fact that I wasn’t what you would call… fashionable… Plus, my dear old foster sister decreed that I was to remain friendless and totally reliant on her.

And the Hardings didn’t exactly treat me like a daughter. They already had one of them, Tess, my foster sister. I was looked upon more as a servant in their family, which they didn’t have. You know the story, ‘you have to earn your keep’ sort of thing. Already in the habit of rising early, thanks to my Dad’s military influence, I was getting up at six each day, preparing breakfast, then getting ready for school, and then clearing away the breakfast things.

School was just an exercise in avoiding the bullies, which I managed to achieve mainly through offering to assist with people’s homework. What can I say? I was… am a nerd. When I got home from school, I had to fit in my chores, along with preparing the dinner for the Hardings, who both worked, clearing up afterwards and finishing my homework. At the weekends, I was allowed to really go to town and did the laundry as well as vacuum the house from top to bottom. And I only got a ‘B’ in Home Ec! That’s not one of the ‘B’s’ I really want, though.


I’m not what you would call confident. And I’m not that pretty. I don’t have the three ‘B’s that guys go crazy over. I’m not blond, not blue eyed, and I am most definitely ‘not’ buxom. You don’t know what ‘buxom’ means? Bluntly put, it means big boobs.

I have dark brown hair, the color of dishwater, Tess, my foster sister says. My eyes are a muddy brown color and I am quite flat. Really flat, actually. Can you believe that I still wear only an ‘A’ cup? Growing up without friends tends to give you that lack of confidence. Well, it did me, and the Hardings never once failed to let me know how plain I really was. I sure couldn’t compare to Tess, that’s for sure.

I thought that when I graduated High School, and went to college, that things would get better for me. But they didn’t. I had always dreamed of attending Harvard, and living so close to that amazing place, those dreams never diminished. When you don’t have any friends and don’t go on any dates, then your grades are all you have. And yes, I had the grades to attend Harvard. What I didn’t have was that well-developed roundedness that places like that want. I was never a cheerleader, never played sports and I was never the president of the nerd or geek clubs. I wasn’t the president of any clubs. I was always the ‘loner’. Plain Parker.

So Harvard was never a viable option, although I still applied. At least their letter of rejection was polite. Instead, I managed to get into Boston College, majoring in Microbiology, and minoring in English Lit. I live in a dorm room on the campus, along with another girl. At least, with no cliques already formed, I’m actually making some friends – okay, one sort of friend, my roommate - but it’s not like I can sit up all night with them while I bitch about my life, or lack thereof. At least I have escaped the Harding’s ‘protection’. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was shown the door faster than an Aluminum Siding Salesman with halitosis.

Even though I have a good scholarship, I’m not like the other kids on campus. Kids? Who am I kidding? We’re supposed to be adults now. And as an adult, I’m pretty much expected to look after myself. And the only way I can really make ends meet is to work two jobs. I’m lucky in that having a military man for a father means that I have inherited the planner gene. I make plans. I hardly do anything without making a plan, first. And my plans have ensured that I obtained jobs that will help with my schooling.

The first job I managed to land was as a waitress at a local Denny’s. How does working at a fast food franchise help, you might ask? Easy. Free food. Plus, I don’t have to cook it, or clean up after. Well, I do clean up, but at least I get paid to do it. If I’m careful, I don’t have to eat the fried stuff. We do grilled food, too. And salads. Lots and lots of salads. And I get time for homework during my breaks.

My second job, though, I consider to be my pièce de résistance! I somehow managed to get a job in a library on the Harvard campus! I have access to all the books I need, not only the library at the Boston College, but Harvard as well! Can you believe it? And while I work, I can also study, do my homework, and just soak in the atmosphere of this amazing place. If only for a while, I can pretend that I am a Harvardarian. And how the other half lives!

Talking of other halves, the one downside to his setup is that Tess attends Harvard. Who is Tess? Yeah, I’ve mentioned her a few times already. You see, Tess Harding, my foster sister. Well, sister is a loose term, seeing as the Harding’s regarded me as an unpaid servant. Actually, it was worse than that, because the Hardings actually received money to look after me. So I don’t see the Hardings as my family. But Tess, I think she believes that there’s some bond between us. I call it a love/hate relationship. Yeah, I know, the old ones are the best. You see, when I first moved in with them, I thought that she would be a real sister to me. I loved her, but she hated me. And can you believe that she still expects me to run around behind her, helping her with her problems as if nothing has changed? And can you believe that I do?


So, my score is, number of real friends, zero. Number of family, zero. Number of dates, zero. Number of times I’ve been kissed by a guy, zero.

Who am I? I’m Liz Parker. I’m a zero. I am only one person to this world.

And I hate Christmas.

* * *

[WR]

Thanks for your all of your comments. This is something new for me, a 1st person POV story. I hope you like it, I hope I do okay with it.


I Hate Christmas


Love asks me no questions,
And gives me endless support...
~ by William Shakespeare ~

Part 1

Friday Afternoon, December 1st.

Because of that planning gene that I think I inherited from my Dad, I have managed to arrange for all of my college lectures to take place during the early part of the day. I don't have a single lesson after 2pm on any day of the week. This is good for me because it means that I can work regular hours, get more pay and still fit in my studies. I'm actually just getting ready to leave for the first job of my day. In a moment, I'm going to walk to the "T" station across the campus, and then ride the train into town, and then back out again to Harvard, all the way across the river. I'm working in the Library there until seven this evening. And then my Shift at Denny's, back here, just off the Boston College campus, starts at eight. Normally, I work until eleven through the week but on Friday and Saturday nights, I work until midnight. Denny's is open all night, but I do have to sleep sometime.


"Hey, Liz," my roommate, Maria greets me as I pack a few bags for the rest of my day.

"Hi, Maria," I smile at her.

I like Maria. She's the kind of girl I would have loved to have had as a best friend. She's everything I'm not, for one thing. With green eyes, she has only two 'B's but she's still a hit with the guys. In the three months that I have been getting to know her, she's had three boyfriends. Oh, I'm not suggesting she's a slut or anything. I'm pretty sure she only slept with one of the guys. I don't know anything else about her except that she comes from Roswell, New Mexico, and as well as music, she's into all this new age stuff like aromatherapy. I guess that because I was born in New Mexico, I feel a kind of kinship with her. We haven't become best of friends, yet, but she has been kind of busy with her boyfriends.

Her bedroom has the most amazing smells, and she's even given me these special candles to help me relax and stuff. Oh, and she's vitamin mad. She's always pumping me with these special vitamin mixes she says will do me wonders, for instance Echinacea. I have to admit, I have been feeling really good since meeting her, and I have yet to catch any of the many colds that seem to sweep the campus every other week. I guess she's the closest thing to a friend I have.

She's always on the phone, too. If she's not talking to her mom, rolling her eyes as she obviously receives her instructions, warnings or both, then she is talking to one of her friends... or her boyfriend.

"Off to work?" she is looking at my bag.

"Yeah," I confirm, tucking my English book into the bag. I have a major essay I need to write about Hamlet. "Library duty, you know."

"Liz," her face changes. It's one of those serious looks that suggests she wants to say something she hopes will help me but is afraid it might upset me. "I know you're a librarian, but do you have to dress to look like one?"

"I..." I look down at my sweater, and my calf length corduroy skirt. "I just feel comfortable like this."

I do, too. My father was pretty strict on what clothing I was allowed to wear. All of my skirts had to be knee length or longer, and my sleeves always had to be long. All of my shoes are flat due to my history of working at the Harding's, and also because of my job in the diner. And I find it much easier if I just keep my hair pinned up in a bun. It's not like I have particularly exciting hair, is it?

And the Harding's never exactly sought to improve my wardrobe. In fact, I think all of my clothes came from thrift shops. I can't recall the last time I owned a brand new dress. Besides, I need my money to complete my education, not my fashion sense.

"Girl, you and me so have to hit the mall sometime," she shakes her head. "And a famous Deluca makeover is so overdue for you."

"What do I want a makeover for?" I shrug. "It's not like I even have time for anyone to notice. And I seriously doubt that anyone will."

"You're kidding, right?" her eyes are wide with surprise.

Me? Kidding? Take a look at me, Maria.

"I have a friend," Maria gives me another once over which makes me feel a little uncomfortable. "I bet he would like you. You should get together and see if anything's there."

I know she means well, and as much as my mind screams in abhorrence at the very idea of a blind date, I can't help the words that come out.

"Uh, okay."

Oh, god. Shoot me now. All this freedom is going to my head. Have I just allowed Maria to set me up on a blind date with a total stranger?

"How about Sunday night?" she presses ahead before I can even think of changing my mind.

I don't work on Sundays. Or Monday's for that matter. I decided to plan - that gene sure comes in handy - my time off to give me a solid block for study rather than a few hours here and there. So Sunday is probably the only real opportunity I have to date.

"Sure," I nod.

How bad can it be? I mean, everyone goes out on dates, don't they? And I am at college now, and if he is a friend of Maria's, how bad can it be? That was a rhetorical question, there's no need to answer.


"Oh, and chica?" she adds.

Another thing about Maria, she uses all these Spanish words and phrases. I kind of like how she does that. I kind of like how Maria just doesn't care what people think of her, either. I wish she had been at all of my schools with me.

"Uh huh?"

Her face lit up like the proverbial Christmas Tree. This cannot be good.

"We so need to get some Christmas decs up in here."

She just lost all of her accumulated brownie points.


* * *


There's something funny about riding a train. No one looks at anyone, yet everyone is covertly studying everyone. I think, subconsciously, everyone is comparing themselves to one another. I know I am. And yes, I am painfully aware that I am not one of the most attractive girls in town. I'm a plain Jane. Mud is a word that springs to mind. I've already told you about my hair, and my eyes? Well, my clothing fits that description too. Everything I own is brown. Brown skirts, brown dresses and brown pants. Even my sweaters are brown. When guys look at me, I'm sure that all they think is mud. Well, that and geek, or nerd, or just plain old 'bleah'.

Maybe I should venture out and buy a maroon sweatshirt with 'Boston College' splashed across my flat chest. That might give the boys at least something to interest them when they check me out. Not that the do check me out, off course. But if they did, then at least they would see something other than... nothing. And perhaps Maria is right. Perhaps a trip to the mall, and the purchasing of a dress in a different color would be a start. And then, maybe she could do something with this makeover of hers to make my hair look less... like mud. I wonder if she has any bleach?


I always stop at the Starbucks on Broadway, just around the corner from the Harvard Campus Library that I work at. I like to take a cup of latte to work with me. It's the one luxury I have. In fact, one of my all time fantasies to sit down at one of the pavement tables at Starbucks and drink a latte from a china cup. It would leave a froth moustache on me, and a gorgeous man, my date, would lean across with a napkin and gently wipe my lip for me, before placing a soft kiss there. No, it's not any anonymous gorgeous man, either. I definitely have someone in mind for that role, but that's why it's a fantasy. Like that would ever come true.


Harvard has lots of libraries. Over ninety of them, in fact. There's the Law library, the Science library... There's even a Business College Library just south of here, across the Charles River. No, I'm not going to list them all. And there's this one that I work at. I just call it 'The' library. Actually, I call it Simon's Library, after Simon Wilder from the film, 'With Honors'. That's the film that actually made me want to go to Harvard. More than anything else, I think I was attracted to the idea of this group of friends who went through so much together. I wish I had a set of friends like that.

I totally love this place and I so wish that I was a student here. Its real name is the Widener Library, the Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library, actually. It says so in big gold letters across the front of the building. It's this huge ornate building with a wide staircase and huge colonnades. The library was named after said Harry, donated by his mother after he died on the Titanic. Oh, and the rumor that Harvard introduced a rule that demanded all student pass a swimming test before they could graduate is just that, a rumor. At least, the graduating part. At one stage they did have mandatory swimming lessons, but somehow I doubt knowing how to swim would have saved Harry.


Armed with my cardboard cup of Starbucks coffee, I climb up the grand staircase and slip past the tall colonnades, I enter the building that I consider home away from home. And guess what I see?

I can't believe it!

"Isn't it something?" Alicia, the elderly Head Librarian catches me staring at it.

"It's something, alright," I nod, making sure my mouth stays closed this time.

It's a freaking great Christmas tree, two stories high, perched in the middle of the apse. Laced with garlands of multicolored tinsel and peppered with colored baubles. And it's right under the zenith of the ceiling. And from that zenith, dozens of other garland drop to the handrails of the upper stories, like a great spoked square wheel. The walls are adorned with great wreaths while stars and bells are suspended everywhere. Ribbons and bows decorate the stacks. It's getting to look a lot like Christmas. Did I mention that I hate Christmas? And I so want to just say, Bah Humbug!

"Can you put these books away before taking over from Deborah," she smiles at me, pointing at three trolleys filled with books.


Everywhere I look, now, Christmas is coming. It has been pretty evident, even since before Halloween, when I started to see the decorations on sale at the various malls and stores. A few stores even had their trees up and decorated since the beginning of November. Even at Denny's, as soon as we took down the witches, ghosts and pumpkins, we started putting up the Christmas stuff. No tree as yet though, so I am counting my blessings. It never gets any easier, but I will admit to feeling some of Maria's exuberance at the coming season. Maybe it's because she has everything I don't. Not just the two of the three B's, but also her friends, her boyfriend and her family. Maybe being around her, this Christmas thing will rub off on me. Although with my luck, this is when she will ask for a transfer and I will have lost someone else at Christmas.

And do you want to know what else they have done? These book trolleys are decked out like they're some freaking kind of Santa's sleigh! Bells, ribbons, white tinsel and everything!


"I've put all the books away," I tell Deborah, the other employee I share this station with.

I can't really call her a friend. I know she doesn't like me. I have tried, but I think her friend applied for the same job and got turned down. Well, sorry, but I have to look after number one, right?

Deborah's an attractive girl, with way more to offer than me. She definitely has more than her share of one of the 'B's'. But she dresses nice and openly flirts with all the guys. I wish I had her confidence, but unlike her, I'm a stick that no one notices. I mean, who in their right mind would welcome me flirting with them?

Did I happen to mention how the job of putting the books away at this particular library is a nightmare? Widener Library is quite a place. When you step through the door, you enter this huge space. It's like a huge hall, and reached all the way up to the roof. Including the underground facility called Pusey Library, there are five floors, and each one, apart from the ground floor below us has this balcony running around it, looking down to the main floor where I'm standing in front of this freaking great tree. Every floor is divided into what we call stacks. They have their own filing system here, and I think that's why I got the job. I actually understood it when they explained it to me at the interview. Now how sad is that?

"Fine," she grunts at me like I'm a nobody. "You can start sorting through the reservation requests."

Just once in my life, I would like to be treated like a somebody. One of those beautiful people that everyone looks up to. Well, in my case, seeing that I'm only five feet and three inches tall, it would take some really small people to look up to me, but you know what I mean, right? The "A" team. The 'it' people. Just once, I would love to be the girl that every other girl wanted to be; that every guy wanted to date.


"Hey, sis," I hear a familiar voice.

Talking of 'A' team, 'it' beautiful people that everyone else - read 'me' - wants to be...

"Hey, Tess."

I hate my ex-foster Tess's voice. Not because it's the kind of shrill, whiney voice that makes the running of nails down blackboards redundant, because it's not. Tess has a nice voice. It's warm and spirited. But she doesn't know how to be warm and spirited so it comes out a little cold. I'm not really being fair. I only hate it because I am jealous of her. She has all three B's! And she is most definitely someone that every girl wants to be and every guy wants to date. And the guys all adore her.

She loves it that I work in the Library. I doubt that Tess had ever been in a library in her life until I started here. Again, I'm being unfair. After all, she did achieve the grades to get in to Harvard, and it wasn't 'all' down to me. But she's always coming in to see me, and it's never social. I guess I'll always be her servant. Today she has two of her many friends with her, and they are all like her. Three B's every one of them.

"Where can I find some books on Corporate Amalgamation and Integration?" she asks me.

Tess is minoring in Business Studies and majoring in trying to land the perfect, rich husband. Since she's started here, she's had three boyfriends, the same as Maria, but that's where the similarities end. Tess puts out for everyone. It's not for nothing that she was known as the High School Bicycle. Everyone rode her. Why she dumps these boyfriends is beyond me. Maybe she finds someone with more money and kind of steps up to them. I do know, however, that there are enough guys who want to date her. I was always getting asked for her number, by guys who have seen her talking to me. They never ask me for my number. I doubt that Tess has ever been at home on a Friday or Saturday night since she hit puberty.

"Uh, hang on, Tess," I start to enter data onto the search window on my computer. I give her the location number.

"Look," she smiles that sweet smile that seems to melt guys hearts, and hands me a list of books. "I'm in a kind of rush, and you so know this library better than me. You can just go and get these books for me? Okay? Good girl."

No, I am not a guy, but I can't help doing as Tess asks. Call it manners, call it habit... call it stupidity. I call it fear. Yes, I am terrified of Tess, ever since her and her friends stole all of my clothes after Gym class early in my sophomore year, I had to walk home in a short tennis skirt and a top two sizes too small for me while everyone catcalled and hooted at me. That's another reason I dress like I do. It's no fun being laughed at. Even though I no longer live with Tess, even though we don't even attend the same school, she still terrifies me.

"Okay, Tess," I nod, taking her list.

Yes, I am weak. Can we just leave it at that?

"Oh, and Lizzie?"

"Yeah?" I stop and see what she wants now.

I wish I hadn't because her two friends are holding out their lists to me while Tess sits down at a table to start reading the latest gossip magazine.


"Hey. Sonya, Babs!" I hear Tess squealing as I return with the large stack of books that too me forty five minutes to gather.

She's found something in that magazine to interest her. Tess always found things that interested her in gossip magazines. I think she uses it to find potential partners.

"Do either of you know who Maxwell Evans is?"

"Sure," they both nod.

I can't help rolling my eyes. Who hasn't heard of Maxwell Evans? He's the reclusive son of the second biggest recluse in the world, right after Michael Jackson. And he's supposed to be rich. Maxwell's father, Mr. Evans, I mean. Everyone knows Michael Jackson is rich. At least, he used to be.

Okay, perhaps I am being a little mean to the Evans family. He's not really this totally reclusive guy, he just values his privacy. He didn't want his son raised in the spotlight, and so has basically kept his identity a secret. And yes, he's rich, but no more so than many other's living around the Boston area. But because he took great pains to prevent pictures of his son being circulated to the press, it became the mission of every paparazzi photographer to be the first to get a photo of Maxwell. And, it seems the mission of every gold digger on the East Coast to get into his pants.

"And did you know he's attending Harvard?" Tess adds.

"Really?" the two girls squeal. "Where's it say that?"

Wow, that really is news. A recluse comes to Harvard and it stays a secret until the first semester is nearly over? Wow. I wonder how, and more importantly, why that piece of information got leaked? But then again, no one knows what he looks like and you can just bet that he's using an alias. And why wouldn't he go to Harvard for his education? It's not like he couldn't afford it. I wonder what a recluse would look like. If he was handsome, surely he would want the world to know it. Right? Right. I bet he's a total geek. Welcome to the club.

"I don't suppose he's in any of your classes, is he?" Tess looks at her friends with a little suspicion. "You haven't met him, have you?"

Naturally, they shake their heads. Of course they wouldn't know him. Hello, girls, alias? But this guy would be right up Tess's street. He possesses every one of the attributes Tess sees as essential for her ideal husband. Filthy rich. That's all she needs. Who cares what he looks like? Who cares if he has dreadful BO, halitosis, alopecia and smelly feet? It's the money that counts. At least, to her. I hope he's all of that 'and' ugly, fat and very, very shallow. And I hope he falls madly in love with her and is so possessive, she has to become a recluse with him, living in a one room hideout up on some mountain. Merry Christmas, Tess. And you wanted to compare me to scrooge?

"Liz," Tess looks at me as I place the books on the table. "You can do me another really big favor, okay?"

Tess has a way with asking.

"What now, Tess?" I start to shake my head.

I just know that I'm not going to like this.

"I need to look in your rolodex or whatever it is you librarians store information in..."

I roll my eyes. I can't help it. Rolodex? Twenty first century? Harvard is traditional, but not 'that' traditional.

"We have computers now, Tess."

That's when I realize what she's about to ask me.

"No." I shake my head with what I hope is authority. "No, I am not looking his details up for you. No way. That's totally illegal and stuff. Do you even know how much trouble I could get into?"

Tess nods her head at her friends, and they all get up.

"It's a long way back to your campus," her voice goes all cold again. She uses that to such great effect. "And no one has a tennis skirt or a top for you to wear this time. And do you even know how cold it is out there?"

Tess really terrifies me. I know that she can make my life a misery if she chooses to. And I can really do without that kind of hassle right now. Yes, I know that if she did anything to me, it's assault, and she could get into trouble, but that would be scant consolation if I had to make my way home in my underwear. Have you seen my underwear? Of course you haven't. Trust me, walking home naked would be less embarrassing. What? So I get uncomfortable buying lingerie, and haven't bought anything new since... well, for a long time.

With a heavy sigh of reluctance, and wishing I had the courage to stand up to her, I take my seat behind the desk and bring up the membership details, which in effect is the entire Harvard student body. I type out the name, Evans, M.

"Does he have a middle initial?" I look up at Tess watching me with a look of expectation.

"P." she tells me after checking the article. "For Philip."

With the final entry, I press the return key and wait.

"No records matched," I shake my head at her, turning the screen for her to see. "He's either not here or he's using a different name."

So Tess has me trying out every variation of Maxwell Philip Evans she can think of. Some of them are quite inventive, but when she asks me to try Philwell Evip Maxans, I know that she's clutching at straws. Desperate much? And no. It turned up blank, too.

I can't help wondering what her current boyfriend - Marcus? - would make of this. If he found out, I can't see him hanging around while she hunts for her next target. I wonder if I should tell him? But he wouldn't even believe me. No one is likely to take my word over Tess's. No one. Especially not guys. And the guys who are dating her, less so.


Tess and her cronies finally give up and retreat to a nearby café to plot their search for the elusive Maxwell Evans over their Maple Macchiatos. I'm sure she will try to make some anagram from the letters in his name. She was never one to give up, and I don't know of a single guy that she has set her heart on that eluded her clutches. Wait, that's not true. Tess has never set her heart on anyone. She doesn't have one to set. If anyone can find him, and land him, Tess will. Between Tess and that article, everyone will know we have someone rich, famous and totally reclusive in our midst by morning. I expect that even on the Boston College campus, they will have heard by lunchtime tomorrow.

And do I feel any pity for him? Not one iota. Rather him that me, I say.


* * *

[WR]

Hi everyone!

Well, it would seem that you like my story, and that I can in fact write the 1st person POV style after all.

I'm sorry that I am not making individual comments, but thank you for your feedback none-the-less. YOu know how much I love it!

My Dad was in the military too, so I kind of know what Liz is going through to some degree. Actually, it taught me to make freinds faster but I know of a few people who were very lonely, like Liz, and totally lacked confidence.

On with the show...


I Hate Christmas!


Seduce my mind and you can have my body,
Find my soul and I'm yours forever.
~ by Anonymous ~

Part 2

Friday Evening, December 1st

"So that's the Mushroom Swiss Burger for you," I say as I place the plate containing said burger, a mountain of fries and a tiny salad garnish in front of the young man. It even has a little sprig of holly for decoration! " And the club sandwich for you," I place this plate, complete with the mountain of fries in front of his study date. "Do you need anything else?"

Study date, I scoff as I move away from them. This guy has been trying to get into her panties since I started working here in the fall. And all he has got for his trouble so far is twenty pounds of excess flab around his middle.

But these are people like me. Quiet, studious types. The geeks and the nerds who will one day become the bosses of the morons who picked on them all through High School. And the girls like Tess who once would not give them the time of day will fawn all over them, eager for the easy life their money will provide. But what happens to the girl geeks? What happens to me? It's not like the hot guys would ever demean themselves to fawn all over me just because I have some money behind me.

The whole restaurant is just like that song. Someone has decked the halls with boughs of holly. And we even have to wear these stupid Santa hats with a Denny's bauble on the tip. And a huge badge with a picture of Santa Claus's smiling face. I hate them. But then, given my thoughts on Christmas, it's a small wonder. Oh, and guess what I spotted - it would have been hard to miss - when I came in this evening? Yep. Christmas tree. Not as big as the one in the library, but it doesn't have to be. It still represents the same thing no matter how big it is.

When I take my place on the seat near the cash register, I take a quick look around at the few people still here at this time on a Friday night. Most people head into Boston, rather than stay local, and as this is considered to be a campus place, few of the locals use it. There are, however, sad people like Mr. Study Date and Ms. Study Non-Date who prefer the solitude of the diner where they won't be teased because everyone else has a life elsewhere, and me who has to be here.

Satisfied that no one needs a refill, or a piece of apple pie, I can return to my essay and try to get to grips with this strange discussion between Hamlet and the grave digger. Don't you think it's a strange thing for a gravedigger to say? That basically, he's been training for his job since the day Hamlet was born? How hard can learning to dig graves be? I know it means more than that, otherwise why require an essay about it? I really hate Shakespeare. He's almost worse than Christmas.

When the bell above the door rings, I check my watch before I look to see who it is. It's already eleven o'clock. I have only another hour to go, but the diner is open all night. When I check on the new visitors, I'm surprised to see my roomy, Maria, and a guy I haven't seen before. Is this guy number four? It surprises me because this is not a guy I would expect Maria to go for. He's tall and skinny, like a strong wind would blow him over. He looks a little like me, geeky, nerdy... is that a polyester shirt he's wearing? He looks more like a guy I would be seen with. On a study date on a Friday night at Denny's, perhaps?

She gives me a smile, which I return, as they take a nearby booth. I pick up two menus and approach them.

"Hi, Maria," I smile at her. "What can I get you guys?"

"Hey, Liz," Maria grins.

Uh oh. That grin has me worried. That's an 'I have a surprise for you' grin if ever I saw one. When I turn to look at her 'date', it hits me. It's not 'her' date. It's mine.

"Liz, this is my good friend, Alex. Alex, this is my room mate, Liz."

"Hi, Alex," I extend my hand.

Well, what did I expect? Philwell Evip Maxans?

"Hi, Liz," he smiles back at me, shaking my hand. At least it's not clammy. It is kind of weak though. "Maria's been telling me all about you."

"She has, huh?" I cast her a glare, but I'm not totally mad. I did agree to her setting me up, and it's nice that she brought him to meet me first. We'll feel less awkward if we actually go on that date. I mean 'when' we date, because I can see that Maria is not going to let me finagle my way out of this. "I hope it's all good."

"Of course it is," Alex nods. He looks like one of those toys you stick in the back of a car, where the head bobs up and down with the motion. "Maria doesn't know how to be rude about people."

Having born witness to her tirade against the failings of men when she broke up with guy number one and guy number two, as well as her thoughts on any number of the other students she has crossed paths with, I have to wonder if he's talking about another Maria.

"That's uh, good to know," I nod.

Great! Now I'm nodding like that freaking car window toy!

"So, I was telling Alex," Maria spoke up at last. "He doesn't have a date. You don't have a date. So the two of you should hook up. You would be so totally suited."

"That's Maria-ese for we're both a couple of losers, Liz," Alex chuckles.

From the way he's acting, I guess Maria does this sort of thing a lot. Especially to him.

"Oh," I frown.

I know I'm a loser. It's just kind of hard being made aware of that fact in such a blunt manner. But he seems to sense my discomfort.

"But it's like I tell her. Just because we don't finish first doesn't make us losers. We're taking our time, enjoying the sights and just taking it all in before we reach the finishing line."

It's so corny I have to laugh. I like Alex. I think he might be just what I need. Gosh, a good friend and a boyfriend all in a single day! It's enough to bring a little color to my cheeks. And maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all. And there will be peace in the Middle East. Right.

"So..." my pencil hovers over my pad. I am paid to take orders, after all. Plus, I can hide my blushes behind the pad. "You guys want to order anything, or just make me feel bad?"

"I'm sorry, Liz," Maria glares at Alex. "I never said that you were a loser. It's just... You're always alone, and Alex is alone, when he's not with me but as he's an honorary girlfriend anyway, hanging with me doesn't count... I just thought maybe it would be good if my two best friends could hang out."

Best friends? I've never had a best friend before. Heck, I've never had a friend before. Now I know how Lightening McQueen felt when Mater told him he had made a good choice for his new best friend. And believe it or not, I feel a tear forming. Are you getting the impression that I watch a lot of films?

"Maria, enough!" Alex rolls his eyes. "Liz, we're only going to shut her up if we actually arrange this 'hanging' session, although I for one, would love to hang someone else."

"Talking about hanging," I sigh, sensing that the supervisor is watching me now. "Look, guys. Can we talk about this later? Are you going to order or not?"

"How about two coffees that we'll keep going until you finish and we can walk you home," Maria smiles at me.

No one has ever offered to see me home before, and even though Maria and I share the same room and it's not like it's out of her way or anything, I'm kind of touched. It's a nice warm feeling, this friendship business. I wonder if I should get them a Christmas card? And what harm could it do to hang with Alex? I mean, I've never been out on a real live date before.

"Oh, hey!" Maria suddenly announces. "Guess who I heard is at Harvard!"

I was wrong. I really thought it would take till lunchtime tomorrow for that rumor to reach us out in the sticks. But I'm beginning to see that I should never underestimate Maria.


* * *

Saturday Afternoon. December 2nd

I like Saturdays. No classes, which means I can have a sleep in. Yup! I get up at eight instead of seven. A whole extra hour in bed! Sorry, I'm not one to loll around in bed all day. It's another gene I inherited from my Dad, although I think it's more from habit because he would never allow me to stay in bed much past seven in the morning. And when I was with the Hardings, I was always up at six, anyway. See? I can rebel as much as the next person. I wonder who makes the Harding's breakfast now?

After my breakfast, I spend the morning studying, and finishing up my various assignments that I have to submit this week. On my way to my job at the library, I pick up an omelet to-go from Denny's and eat it on the train. I know how bad that looks, but I use whatever time I can.

Saturday is a good day to work at the library, particularly if you need to get work of your own done. Only the diehard students come in. Everyone else is either attending some a football game, or a basketball game, or they are in Boston having fun. With so few people around, once I finish up my allotted tasks, such as putting the books away, I can sit, study and wait for someone to ask for assistance. But you know what? There's always one.

"Hey, Parker," a rich, warm and very vibrant voice calls me from my studies.

And this voice, I don't mind a single bit.

Unlike Tess's, this is a voice I like to hear. Over and over again. And as he seems to spend a lot of time in this library, I do hear it fairly frequently. This voice stirs strange feelings inside me. Feelings I hardly ever experience, but when he talks to me.... This voice makes my skin burn fifty seven varieties of red and makes my heart pound. I hope he can't hear it. And when I look at him, my body reacts in ways I would rather not think about. And even though I doubt he would find my body the remotest bit interesting, I can't help wanting him to see me, and for me to see him. In the biblical sense, I mean. Heck, Noah's words are good enough for me where this man is concerned! Forth, fifth, even sixth! I would do all the multiplying I could with him. What fantasies I can weave, huh?

I look up to see him. By him, I mean 'Him'. I don't know his name. Unlike the staff at the library, he doesn't have to wear a nametag and in all the time he's been coming to this library, all three months, I've never plucked up the courage to actually ask him. So I refer to him in my mind - 'cause I have never told anyone about him - as 'Libraryman'. Neither have I plucked up the courage to tell him to just call me Liz. I don't think I have actually plucked up the courage to speak to him in any capacity except to answer his questions. I tend to just look up at him - did I say he was tall? I tend to just look up at him and... you know I'm short, right? I just nod at him, a lot. Yes. My body is already reacting. My nipples have turned into rock hard stones, and I can already feel my panties getting damp.

He calls me Parker, thanks to the nametags we have to wear. It doesn't say 'Ms. Parker', or 'L. Parker', or even 'Liz Parker'. It just says 'Parker'. And that's what he calls me, like it's my first name. This guy must really think I'm a loser. At least he doesn't look at me like I'm mud or something. And I also notice that his eyes never drop to my chest. Probably because there's nothing there. Just once, I would like to experience what it feels like to have a guy check out my breasts.

Remember how I was saying that Tess was in that 'A' set, the beautiful 'it' people? Well, this guy is beyond that. This guy is a god! I'm not one to gush about a guy, but this particular one... I'll admit it; he does things to me. And I'm not the only one. All the girls drool over him. No one ever approaches him though. He just has this whole aura, you know? Look but keep your distance? And for all the times that I have helped him, he has never once checked a book out of the library. If he would only do that, I could actually learn his name from his student ID. But he doesn't, so it's either ask him or live without it. I choose the latter, yet again.

What does he look like? Tall, like I think I already said, dark hair that puts mine to shame... but then everything does that. He keeps his hair cut short, with these bangs that kind of drop towards his eyes. And what eyes that are, too! When we lived in Kansas, my mom bought some honey from a local apiarist. The bees had been collecting pollen from the wheat fields and the honey had this rich, warm color to it. The color of this man's eyes remind me so much of that honey. It was particularly sweet, too and once you got it on you, it stayed there! And his build! He really looks like he should be out participating in one of the sporting events rather than stuck here in the library, but I for one - along with the other girls present - am glad that he is. In the library with me... I mean us. I'm glad he's here and not out elsewhere.

"Uhm, yeah?" I finally respond.

Idiot. How long has it been since he spoke to me? How long was I standing there, probably drooling? And I can't believe that I just wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. How much more pathetic could I make this man think I am?

"C-c-can I help you?" I finish weakly.

I have an amazing vocabulary. No, really. I have read every book on that list of Great American Authors. And some of the European list, too. Hey, I'm an English Lit minor, remember? So how is it I even forget how to speak basic English when this particular guy comes near me? I have never been affected like this man affects me. This man could take my virtue here and now, and he wouldn't even have to ask. I would be his willing slave!

"I was just wondering... do you know if I could find any good books in the Biology section that might deal with the law and forensic science?"

I've already figured that this guy was studying Law as his major. I still can't work out what his minor was, not that it would help me to get to know him at all. Of course, my major being in the biological field, I just happened to know that there were indeed some books that he would find useful. What? It's a total coincidence! I was not looking to see if we had anything in common! As if.

"Uh, sure," I nod to him, trying to be the model of a professional librarian. I even tap some random keys to make it look like I don't know where they are and am being all efficient in looking them up for him. I already know exactly where they are. "You'll find them in section..."

"I still get kind of lost in this place," he says, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Could you show me?"

Can I show...? Whenever Tess asks me to show her, or even to fetch the books for her, I feel cheap and used. Weak. But his request fills me with this warm and fuzzy feeling. Like he actually needs my help. Like he doesn't care if other people see him walking with the mud girl. I would do anything this man asks of me. Do you think I'm going to say no? Uh huh.

So what do I do? As I step through the gates, my feet get caught on one of the legs of my chair and I trip over it. I would have fallen through the gate and flat on my face had not Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome caught me. He's holding me like I'm something precious. Oh, god! How embarrassing can I make things for myself? And how strong he feels. And the way he smells. It's like warm cinnamon. Oh, come on, snap out of it, girl. I'm dying of embarrassment and I'm trying to figure out what body spray he uses?

"You okay?" he smiles, helping me to stand up.

Okay, now I know I'm losing it. He sounds genuinely concerned. At least he's polite.

"Yeah," I nod, mortified that I have not tried to escape his hold faster than I did.

"Enjoy your trip?"

Okay, how did he do that? How did he know that by making that joke, he's turned it into nothing special and stopped me worrying too much? And it makes me feel better, like he doesn't think I might have done it on purpose just so he could hold me.

"Didn't you get my postcard?" I reply, trying to keep it flippant.

Okay, what was that? Why was he really staring into my eyes? And did he seem as reluctant to let go of me as I was to be let go? No, get a hold of yourself, woman. Wishful thinking or what? This fantasy life is getting out of hand. He was probably wondering what the hell color they were. Well, I can tell him. Mud. Did I mention the color of his? And you know how I mentioned that the honey we bought that time, that was the color of his eyes, how once it got on you, nothing got rid of it? I won't be able to get his eyes out of my head now. It's stuck. I'm stuck.

"Uh," I move a little more slowly just to make sure I don't show myself up any further. I bet this guy wants to get away from me so he can crack up with laughter in private. He seems too nice to laugh in my face, unlike many other's I've embarrassed myself in front of. Taking a deep breath, I start to walk toward the stairs. "If you walk this way..."

"Uh, Parker?" he smiles at me. "Can I just walk the way I normally do? 'Cause I don't think I could ever make my backside move like your sexy little sway and make it look that good."

Great. He's a comedian too. Wait. Did he use the word 'sexy' in a sentence about me? Is he flirting with me? And was he really checking out my ass? Oh, get a grip, Parker. As if... times two.

I show him where he can find the books I had already located for him before, and hurried away before I could totally humiliate myself, all the while making it look like I hadn't been in this part of the library before.

"Thank you, Parker," he called at me as I retreat.

And you know what? He sounded genuine.


* * *


Sunday Evening, December 3rd

"Did you have a good time?" Alex is escorting me home after our date.

I want to tell him that I did, but I didn't. Alex is a nice guy, and I like him a lot. But as a friend. I really hope he doesn't want to kiss me. I know I shouldn't be picky, but if, or when I finally find a boyfriend, I would like to feel something other than gratitude.

So I lie.

"I did."


Early this morning, Maria and I went to a nearby Mall and she forced me to buy a dress. I use the term 'force' lightly because I actually did want something other than brown for a change. She said I should get a red one, which I did, but I really did draw the line at the mini dress she wanted me to buy. It's just slightly above my knee, so I thought it was a good compromise.

After I showered and got dressed, I'm tried to get my hair up in my normal bun, but Maria stopped me. She said in no uncertain terms that her Chica was not going to date her childhood friend in a bun. She wanted me to wear it loose, so I compromised and wore it in a ponytail. I actually thought I looked good until Maria gave me her appraisal.

"It will have to do."

Talk about deflation.


When Alex called, his first words were 'Hi, Liz. You ready?' I thought guys were supposed to notice you when you made an effort. I never wanted to hit someone as badly as I did right then. Wanted to, but I didn't. 'Cause that's not me. And how come Alex escaped Maria's attentions? I had to radically change my wardrobe and wear a short - for me - red dress while he gets to wear his polyester shirt!

He took me to a small restaurant just off campus where we ate some Spaghetti Bolognese. It's funny, but in all my travels, I had never eaten proper Spaghetti before. Only the stuff you get from cans, usually on toast. It wasn't too bad, either. I kept thinking of that scene in Lady and the Tramp, you know, where Tramp and Lady share a Spaghetti meal, and they are eating the same strand of spaghetti and they nearly kiss? I keep on thinking how I would like to try that, only with someone else and not my current date.

Is that normal? Thinking of another man when you're on a date? This is all new to me.

And I really didn't have the heart to tell Alex that he had managed to splash the tomato sauce up his shirt. It was my revenge for the effort I went through for him.

We caught the "T" into Boston and were making our way across to the Copley Place Cinema when I caught sight of a familiar face. A face that made me burn ten shades of red, making me glad of the dark, as well as making my heart flip flop in my stomach. I hope Alex doesn't think that my nipples are like this for his benefit. Thank god I'm wearing my coat.

I would have to say that the guy he was with was hot looking too, with his spiky hair and bad attitude, but Libraryman put him in the shade and I only really saw him... and those eyes. Yes, they were still stuck to me. I was so glad that he was not with another girl. I don't think I could handle seeing him with a girl fawning all over him, even if I am with another guy and he's...

Has Alex just put his arm around my waist?

Actually... Thinking about it, maybe I'm not so glad that he's with a guy and not a girl. I mean, what if he... and Spike... were... No. Don't even think that. That would be too much to bear, because it's bad enough if I have to compete with the likes of Tess. Add other guys to the competition and I think I might as well just give up my life now.

"Parker," he smiled at me.

His smile is normally electric, but tonight, it was tight. It was like he was not feeling very well. Like something was bothering him. His eyes seemed delighted at first, but even in this light, I saw them darken. What was with that?

"Uh, hey," I nod at him.

"You look really good, tonight," he gave a brief smile. "Like it."

No one has ever complimented me on my looks before. I suddenly felt like I was walking on air. I felt six feet tall, which would make me tall enough for him. Did I mention my height, or lack thereof? I wish I could take off my jacket so he could see that I do wear something other than brown. But then he might see my reaction to him... or he might just assume it's the cold. Or he might not even look which would be quite painful, actually. So I'm glad of the jacket after all.

"Th-thank y-you," I stammer.

How much more pathetic could I be? He and his friend didn't stop, so neither did I. But I didn't care. I was on cloud nine. Maybe now, I'll have the courage to actually ask his name.

"Friend of yours?" Alex asked me.

His voice sounded really strange. What is it with these guys? I notice he didn't remove his arm, either.

"I see him in the library from time to time," I nod, looking back at Libraryman as he turns into a building. "I, uh... don't even know his name."

"So, he's a Harvard guy, then."

"Yeah," I nod. "I guess."

"I don't like him," he states in a tense voice.

Another first! No one has ever shown jealousy over me before. I wish it had been Libraryman feeling jealous though. Fat chance. So I'll take what I can get. At least I know that he recognizes me outside of the library.


I guess it was inevitable, really. Alex thought it would be really cute to see "A Nightmare Before Christmas", the 3D version. If I had some tinsel, I would have strangled him with it. So instead, I let Alex enjoy the film while I thought about Libraryman and wondered why he was looking at me the way he was. In fact, I was so far gone that I never even realized that Alex had draped his arm across my shoulders.


After the film, Alex and I caught the 'T' back to campus and after declining his invitation to grab a coffee from Denny's, he brought me home. I started to feel awkward, because I knew that with him being friends with Maria, coming upstairs would be something he might consider natural. But if I brought him upstairs, would he consider me easy? Would he think he was going to get some? I liked Alex, but probably only the same way Maria did. As a friend. I really don't think that he's someone I could consider as a boyfriend. But from the way he hugged me and kissed my cheek, trying to kiss my lips, I think he saw me as something more.

Just my luck. The first guy to ever show any interest in me and I can't get my mind of someone who will never show any interest in me. Why do guys have to be so two-dimensional?


* * *

[WR]

REMINDER!

WR is chatting tonight about his new fic, I Hate Christmas at

http://p072.ezboard.com/broswellheaven

Hope to see you there!


Thanks for your comments, and I am pleased that you are enjoying this years little Crimbo Tale. I spoil you guys



I Hate Christmas!

Only love let's us see normal things
In an extraordinary way.
~ by Anonymous ~

Part 3

Monday Morning, December 4th

For the first time since I don't know when, I struggled to get up this morning. I experienced another first, last night. Maria was waiting for me when I got in, and wanted to know how the date went. And do you know what she did? She had a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream in the freezer, and we sat on my bed and ate the whole tub while she psycho analyzed the evening.

And it didn't end there. Before I knew it, she had managed to wheedle some of my most private secrets from me. She even managed to get me to tell her about my crush on Libraryman.

It was such a wonderful feeling talking so freely like that. And even though I had just told her that I had no romantic feelings toward her best friend, she never once made me feel bad about it. Neither did she try to persuade me to give him a second chance or anything.

Instead, she started to concoct these amazingly complex plans to set me up on a date with Libraryman. Me and my big mouth. Can't she see that it's fine to keep my fantasies as just that, a fantasy? Because if I was to ever ask him out, and he blew me off, I really don't think I could stand that kind of rejection.

I have no idea what time it was when I finally fell asleep, but I slept right through my alarm. I had to skip breakfast and only just managed to squeeze into the lecture room, seconds in front of Professor Zandvoort. I take the first seat I came to, which is the seat I always take anyway. The one nearest the door. I don't like hanging around at the ends of classes. That's when the school bullies like to pounce. My policy has always been to try to be last in and first out.

"Hamlet," the professor intones. "The beginning of scene five. Where are we?"

"The graveyard," someone calls out.

And so begins the lesson in which Professor Zandvoort transports us to a patch of mud in Denmark and we watch as two clowns - Shakespeare's words, not mine - argue about whether or not Ophelia deserves a Christian burial. Hmmm... Maybe I'm a Danish clown. We have mud in common.


* * *


At lunch time, as planned with Maria, I meet her at one of the many cafeterias for lunch. I like having a friend. She's already there, reading one of the student newspapers that abound in a place like this.

"Someone's syndicated a story from the Boston Globe," she pointed at the article she was reading. "It's about Maxell Evans."

"Tess find him already?" I raise an eyebrow.

I can't help it. I just feel in such a good mood today. You know, with all these amazing things happening to me lately, I think I'm starting to feel a little Christmassy. I don't even mind that the cafeteria, along with most of the campus, is decked out in decorations.

"Who's Tess?" Maria gives me a frown.

"Go on," I laugh. "I'll explain later, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees. "Want me to read you this article?"

"Give me the edited highlights," I shake my head.

I really hate it when people read things to me. I guess it's a throwback to my English classes in grade school, when we used to take turns reading from whatever book we were working through. It was always so painful, listening to some of the class struggling with some of the words. Always a good reader, I invariably ended up reading on ahead and when it was my turn to read out loud, I was completely lost as to where the rest of the class was. And how embarrassing it was thinking that the teacher just assumed I wasn't paying attention, while the others just laughed at me.


"Okay," she takes a breath. "In a nutshell, it seems that the Evan's are fed up with the artificial women his son is meeting. It seems they are more like giant Barbie dolls rather than real people. You know, all silicon implants, nose jobs and botox. Every one of them a pretentious fake. Mr. Evans Senior would like Mr. Evans Junior to meet and maybe one day marry someone real. I guess all the inbreeding can't be good for you, huh?" She looks up at me. "Anyway, he's hoping that by sending his son to Harvard, he'll meet a cross section of intelligent and more importantly, real young ladies, capable of holding her own in any company as well as standing up for herself, and not becoming some Dynasty clone."

"I'd hate that," I shake my head. "I mean, he's hardly giving his son much choice, is he? I mean, what if this Maxwell doesn't want to get married yet?"

"I think the idea is for him to meet some alternatives to the girls he normally meets," Maria looks up from the paper. "But how can he ever know if the girl he meets loves him for himself and not his money?"

"I guess he won't," I shrug. After all, it's not my problem, even if it does make some kind of sense. "But if he ever meets Tess, he'll know for sure she just wants his money."

I'm pretty sure Tess he would like Tess. And I'm fairly certain she is real. I think I would have heard if she had had breast implants.

"You'd think they'd put a picture of him in the paper, though," Maria folded it up. "So us 'real' women would know who to look out for."

"Do you to know why they haven't?" I start to chuckle.

"Sure," Maria nods. "Because then every gold digger would make a bee line for him, and he wouldn't be able to move without some one throwing their breasts in his face."

"No," I shake my head laughing. "I mean, yeah. That's one reason. But you want to know what the real reason is? He's probably fat, bald and ugly."

"You are so bad, Liz Parker," Maria starts to laugh with me.


So we're eating our lunch while discussing various things, and just hanging, being friends. This is all still so very new to me, and I can't help wishing that my life had been different. I feel different with Maria. Like I am a somebody, like I matter.

"Oh!" Maria suddenly blurted with a mouthful of her pasta salad. "Know what else I spotted in the paper?"

"What's that?" I shake my head.

It could be anything, right? Maybe she found a timetable publicizing Maxwell Evan's movements.

"They're switching on the lights of the Boston Christmas Tree tonight," her eyes are sparkling. "You're not working, right? We should go. We could grab a hot chocolate or something, watch the lights go on, and maybe we can just hang around Quincy's Market or something afterwards. Who knows, maybe we'll bump into Maxwell Evans."

"Sure," I nod. "Like that's going to happen."

"Hey," Maria shrugs. "The population of Boston is less than six hundred thousand. If you have a one in six hundred thousand chance of being struck by lightening, then I reckon you have a better chance of bumping in to Max Evans."

"Maria," I shake my head. I think the population might be more than that. "Have you included all the other places, like Cambridge, Somerville, Brookline... And you do realize that the statistic also means I have a five hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine to six hundred thousand chance of not bumping into him. Meaning no chance at all."

"Tell that to the next poor guy who gets hit by lightening," she smirks. "Oh, and we can get Alex to join us, too."

I like Maria. She's the half-full glass to my half-empty. I think we just might get along fine. If I can survive her blatant matchmaking attempts.


* * *


There's a down side to being friends with Maria. Finances. She cut an afternoon class just so that she could take me to The Gap in a nearby mall. She made me buy these incredibly tight jeans and this pink sweatshirt. She also made me buy a little white winter jacket with a hood and fake fur lining. And of course, I just 'had' to get these soft calf length boots. According to her, that is. I had some problems with these because they had high heels, and I have never worn high heels before. I bet my feet will be killing me by the time we get home. I spent a week's wages on that little outfit. Oh, and while I was changing, she disappeared from the cubicle she insisted on accompanying me into. She returned with this set of lacy racy underwear. It was black. I didn't know where to look. How can something so little cost so much? Knowing Maria might prove hazardous to my bank balance.

And my virginity.

And once we got home, Maria insisted on another makeover session. This time, however, she insisted that I allow more time. I showered and washed my hair, and conditioned it according to her instructions. She also made me 'exfoliate' and then I shaved my underarms and my legs.

I couldn't help giggling, wishing that Libraryman would walk in and say how he never wished he was a razor so badly, like when Brendan Frazer walked in on Moira Kelly.

After my shower, and smelling like I had just rolled in a field of strawberries, Maria has another go at my hair. This time, when she's finished, she looks at me and smiles. Although she drew the line at my putting it up, I again insisted that I have in a pony tail. I don't want to look like I'm wearing a mud colored hood or something. We had a few words about that until she backed off.

"If we do meet Maxwell Evans tonight," she beamed, "then he's not going to know what hit him."

Oh, and guess what? When we were shopping, Maria discovered that I've been wearing the wrong sized bra. I'm not an 'A' cup after all. I'm actually a 'B'. I have one of the B's at least. But it's nothing to shout about. I mean, that's still small for a 32 chest.


With my make up done, I get dressed, wearing the slivers of black lace under my new jeans and sweatshirt. Maria helped me to tuck my jeans into my boots, and when she looks at me, she fans her hand in front of her face with a whistle.

"Chica," she gushes. "You are muy caliente!."

I think that's a good thing, but she's just being a friend. Maria gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a Boston College sweatshirt, but she still looks hot. Blond hair, and unless I'm mistaken, that sweatshirt is too small for her on purpose. She's going to turn a few heads tonight, that's for sure. And that's when I realize.

"Maria?" I frown. "Where's... uh..." What was the name of her latest boyfriend? "Ben?"

"Bill," she shakes her head with a shrug. "He's history, babe."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I feel bad. She had been so nice to me just lately that I never even noticed.

"No problems," she just shrugs like it's nothing to her.

What is she made of? Teflon? I swear. I have never seen her even the slightest upset and that's three relationships she's finished with.

"Okay, Liz," she takes something from her purse. It's a small, flat gold square. "Keep this in your purse, in case lightening does strike." She winks at me, and looks me up and down. "On second thoughts, here." She gives me three of them.

"What are they, Maria?" I put them in my purse anyway.

"Condoms," she shrugs.

I can't believe how red I suddenly turn.


"I'll get it," Maria calls when someone knocks on our door. She bounces across the room and opens the door.

"Hey," Alex breezes into our room. "How are my girls?"

I can't help feeling guilty about Alex. He's a nice guy. Really, he is. He's just not what I want in a boyfriend, even if I've never had one before. And seeing him here so soon after our date...

"Hi, Alex," I give him a warm smile.

He won't really look at me and I know his smile is a little forced. Maria told me she would talk to him, so I guess she already has because it's painfully obvious that he's disappointed. I think he was hoping I would be a little more... Maria said that it was the same with them when they first met up in tenth grade. And now they are best friends.

"Everyone ready?" he checked his watch. "We want to get a good place, right?"

"Right," Maria nods. "We need to be where the lightening will strike,"

"Huh?" Alex frowns.

And then, because he obviously knows Maria so well, he just shrugs and we follow him out.


* * *

Monday Evening, December 4th

I could never see the point in this. Switching on the Christmas lights, I mean. Huge crowds gather beneath the decorations that have been suspended above our heads for the past few weeks, and we all stare at a couple of celebrities standing on a podium. Then, after a countdown, someone presses a switch and the lights go on. And everyone goes "Oooooo" like they never expected that to happen.

I wonder if one of the celebrities is Maxwell Evans? I seriously doubt it. That would mean everyone would know what he looks like, and there might even be a small-scale riot.

The annual tree lighting ceremony was supposed to start at six thirty. It's already six forty five. We arrived here a little after half past six and already there were large crowds gathering on Boston Common. After standing in the cold, freezing my tail off, I might add - as well as trying to come to terms with the lace that's riding up my... never mind. Suffice it to say that I have never had such little material between my skin and the elements. And I was wrong about those heels. They are already killing me!

"What's taking him so long?" Maria turns to look back into the crowds forming behind us.

We're standing fairly close to the main festivities because, as Maria says, this is where someone like Maxwell Evans would be. Close to the front but not actually 'at' the front. How does she know so much? I wonder if she's majoring in psychology?

"Uh, who?" I ask tentatively.

She could be talking about Maxwell Evans, or Alex, who had gone to get us some hot chocolates to ward us against the cold.

"Alex," she grumbled. "He's going to miss it if he doesn't hurry."


But Alex didn't miss it. He had taken longer than he had thought because I had mentioned that I had forgotten my gloves, and he had bought me a new woolen pair from a street vendor. Yes, he can be thoughtful and sweet but that doesn't make him boyfriend material. At least, not for me. So with my gloves now keeping my fingers warm and the hot chocolate warming my insides, we watch the ceremony unfold and I am having such a good time, I even go "Ooooooo" when the lights get switched on.


"Well," Maria sighs as the crowd starts to disperse. "No lightening, I guess."

She actually sounds disappointed.

"I guess not," I sigh.

What? Her moods are infectious. And wouldn't it have been great if I got to meet the most eligible bachelor in Boston before Tess? I drain the lukewarm contents of my drink, drop the empty cup into the convenient trash can, and hurry to catch up to Maria and Alex so we can go over to Quincy's Market like we discussed. And would you know it? I run straight into someone.

"Jesus H. Christ!" the young man bellows, leaping backwards to avoid being splashed by the cup of steaming coffee he was holding. He failed. The hot coffee splashed down the front of his pants and his shirt.

"Oh, my god!" I cry out in horror. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You stupid... bi..."

I've been called worse.

"Michael," a voice warns him, cutting off his expletive. A steadying hand appears on Michael's arm.

In spite of the cold, I am now burning up. In fact, I think there's a high chance that I might spontaneously combust. I would know that voice anywhere. And now I recognize the man I have just collided with. He's Libraryman's friend. And Libraryman himself appears from behind him. Why does this always happen to me?

"L-l-look," I try to offer him my single tissue to wipe himself off with. How ineffectual is that? He rewards me with a glare that would freeze the river Styx. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Hi, Parker," Libraryman smiles at me. "Are you okay?"

What? I collide with his friend, soak him in hot coffee, and he is worried about me?

"Uh, yeah..." I nod. Vocab, Liz. Remember your vocabulary.

"How about me?" Michael barks. "I'm freaking soaked!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Maria has come back to see what the hold up was.

Baby?" Michael snaps. "How about I pour coffee over you and see how you like it?"

"How about you don't?" she snaps back. "Cause if you do you're gonna lose that hand."

"Michael," Libraryman warns his... uh, friend. And then he turns back to me. "You look really good tonight, Parker."

"Uh, th-thanks." I have no idea what to say to him. And I can't believe that he has looked me up and down. I feel so... I don't know. I can't explain it. The discomfort I feel from the lace riding up into places best left unmentioned, and my aching feet have vanished. My whole body tingles. I feel... cherished. "You do too."

And then, do you know what he does? He takes a clean tissue from his jacket pocket, and as tenderly as if he was doing this to a baby, he wipes my top lip.

"You had uh..." he points to his own lip, moving his finger in a back and forth sideways motion, "had a foam thing."

"Thanks," is all I could say.

Heck, it was hard enough to say just that! All that was missing from my fantasy was the soft kiss to follow it. In the background, I can hear Maria and Michael still trading insults. I wonder if Alex can hear her.

"I was kind of cultivating it though." I know. Corny. I really felt that I had to show him I could actually string s sentence together. "The moustache, I mean."

He finds it funny because he laughs. His eyes are almost as bright as the Christmas lights we just watched get switched on. And then they go out, and he stops laughing. His eyes move to my side.

"What's going on?" Alex arrives and wraps his arm around me again.

"Just saying hello," Libraryman shrugs.

"Come on, girls," Alex urges. "Quincy's market, remember?"

"Hey," Maria stops Alex trying to drag me away from the man I have this huge crush on.

Does Maria realize this is Libraryman, or is she just in her matchmaking mode? My body is reacting to him again, and I know those little lace panties are soaked and because of where they are, they're feeling kind of good right now. And now, I'm kind of thinking that those three condoms are nowhere near enough.

"Why don't you guys join us?" Maria finishes.

Oh, please say yes! Please say yes. Does my face show that I am longing for this man to say yes?

"Like this?" Michael glowers as he looks down at the huge wet stain that makes him look like he's had a little 'personal' accident.

"Yes, like that," Maria rolls her eyes. "Why not?"

"I'm sorry," Libraryman really looks like he means it, too. What's with that? "But I have to be somewhere. And as you can see, Michael..."

"Needs to change," Michael finishes.

"Look, Michael," I tear my eyes away from those sticky eyes. "I'm really sorry, okay?"

"You said," he growls. And Libraryman glares at him? Huh?

"I work at Denny's, you know? And if you ever drop by... I'll replace the coffee, on the house."

"Come on," he just shakes his head and pulls my dream man away.

And it's so strange that Libraryman walks backwards, and all the time he's looking at me before he has to turn around and I lose him in the crowd.

"Chica," Maria claps my back. "He is so into you."

"No, he's not, Maria," I shake my head. "That is so in your imagination."

But I have to wonder. He was looking at me rather intently.

"I think they're gay, anyway," Alex shrugs. "Did you see the way 'Michael' was looking at the one talking to you, Liz? He was like, 'what are you doing?'"

Okay, I must confess. I was thinking exactly the same thing. Christmas doesn't seem so fun any more.


* * *


So we returned home with Alex dropping us off at our door. I've changed into my pajamas, and wearing my terrycloth robe, I'm in the kitchen making myself a cup of hot milk. I'm hoping it will help me sleep because the images I have of me and Libraryman and the exciting ways I could use those condoms are keeping me awake.

Hey! I might be an untouched virgin but I am not naïve!

"Okay, Chica," Maria bounced into the kitchen. "I think I found the solution to your problem."

"What problem's that, Maria?" I ask stirring in just the right amount of sugar into the milk.

"Your confidence with guys."

My confidence with anyone, I want to tell her. But my curiosity is piqued. What has she got planned now?

"And additionally, the chance to get some alone time with your Prince Charming."

"My..." Who? "Oh, you mean Libraryman."

Ooops. Why do I have this sudden feeling I'm going to regret this.

"Libraryman?" she frowns. "Why do you call him that?"

"Uh... because I don't know his name."

"But he knows yours," she points out the obvious.

"No," I smile as I shake my head. "He knows my name is Parker, because it says on my badge. But that's all he knows, so that's all he calls me."

"You mean, he's never asked you your real name?" Maria blinked. "And you never asked him for his?"

I just shake my head and shrug.

"Wow," she rolls her eyes. "You guys are just so hopeless. And so right for each other."

"Maria," I start, but she's on a roll.

"Look," she holds up a flyer. "Libraryman was holding one of these. And I found this one on the floor in Quincy's Market. And guess what? We're going to crash it."

"Huh?" I take the flyer from her hand and start to read.

It seems to be advertising some kind of party at a Frat House. The heading in big bold letters calls it the Harvard Hookers and Hobos Hoe-down.

"Maria?" I narrow my eyes. "Just what exactly is a..."

She's read my mind and is way ahead of me.

"It's just a party," she starts. "A Christmas Party. But in costume. Everyone has to go dressed as a Hooker or as a Hobo."

"Maria..." I really do not like the sound of that. I wonder how I would look as a Hobo?

"Relax, okay?" she smirks. "Believe it or not, I'm something of a legend when it comes to costume."

"Maria..." Okay, I admit it. I don't want to go. "This says for Harvard students only. What if someone recognizes us as Boston College students? Like for instance, Michael and Libraryman?"

How embarrassing would that be? Kicked out of a party.

"Liz? Where's your sense of adventure? It's costume. That's the point. No one is supposed to recognize you. Besides." She starts to grin at me. "No way is Libraryman going to blow your cover and have you thrown out."

"But... Maria..."

I have no more excuses. Help?

"Okay, Cinderella," Maria pinches my cheeks. "You shall go to the ball!"


* * *

[WR]

Hi everyone,

A big thank you to all of you guys who turned up for my Authors chat last week. It was a blast!

Okay, A Hobo is a tramp, a down and out, a vagabond. A HOmeless BOdy. (I made that last part up. ) The dictionary does not not know where the term was derived from.

I'm glad you are enjoying my story, even though you don't like how Liz lets Tess walk all over her. But it's part of the tale, so...

Talking of which...


I Hate Christmas!



When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.
~ by Elizabeth Bowen ~

Part 4

Saturday Afternoon, December 9th

The whole week has just flown by. Everywhere, it's painfully obvious that Christmas is upon us. Houses and stores are decorated to the nines and the trees have lights and tinsel strung around them. And students are making plans to go home for the Holidays. My home is my dorm room, in which I shall stay all holiday. And if Maria goes home, something I've not asked her yet, then I will be alone. Something I can't say that I'm particularly looking forward to. I know I don't especially like Christmas, but even so...

I've never been alone for Christmas before. It was just my dad and me when my mom died that Christmas long ago. And the following year, when my dad died, I moved in with the Hardings in time for Christmas. So even though I always felt alone, I have never physically 'been' alone. And the thought is kind of scary.

Oh, but guess what? I've bought Alex and Maria a Christmas card. Actually, I've bought them little presents, too. I've even bought Libraryman a card, but there's no way I'm giving it to him with the name Libraryman written on it. I am trying to think of a way I can find out his name. Without totally embarrassing myself by actually asking him, I mean.

Maria hasn't said much about this party we're going to, you know, the Hookers and Hobos thing. All she says is that I should leave all the arrangements to her. I told her that I was going to go as a hobo or I wasn't going. I just don't think I would make a very appealing hooker. Oh, god! What a horrible thought. I hope I never have to rely on that line of work to put food on my table. I think I'd be going hungry, otherwise. Who would pay to be with me?

I haven't seen much of Tess this week, which is a bonus. I'm pretty sure she's out there trying to locate the mysterious Maxwell Evans. I heard that she took a recent photograph of Philip Evans and tried to use an aging program to 'reduce' the picture's age. But the software wasn't designed for that and the result was quite a mess. Alex couldn't stop laughing when I told him and Maria what she had tried to do. I found out that he's majoring in Software Engineering.

She did come by the library yesterday afternoon and threatened me with physical violence if I didn't help her by trying to find his identity on the student register again. I caved at once; just like I always do and spent an hour searching for the names she had come up with as potential nomme-de-plumes in her search for her future husband. Needless to say, we came up blank. She did get a few hits, but comparing the student ID photo with a picture of Philip Evans suggested that there was no way the student could be related to the recluse.

Neither have I seen Libraryman. Not since the night of the tree lighting ceremony. I'm not sure if he's avoiding the useless clutz who spilled coffee all over his friend, or if he's already gone home for the holidays. That thought actually makes me sad, although I know I'm being selfish because I'm sure he has a family missing for him. And a long distance girlfriend, too, I bet. Of course, maybe he's just busy with finals and stuff. Either way, I haven't seen him all week.


"Hey, Parker."

Until today. And he has such great timing, too. I have finished my allotted tasks, including the one where I push the 'sleigh' full of books, replacing them on the shelves, and all I have to do now, apart from the finishing touches to a few essays is answer any questions, or help any student who requires it. And I do believe that talking to Libraryman qualifies as helping students.

"Hi," I can't help smiling at him. Or blushing.

And yes, my body has exploded again. No, I'm not wearing that little lacy underwear set, or the tight jeans. Nor my red dress, either. Actually, Maria has told me in no uncertain terms that this weekend, we will be blowing some of my savings on new clothes. She says my wardrobe is a bit of a mess. And right now, even though I'm wearing my old brown clothes, I can't help that I am so turned on right now. And I can't help wishing that I had dressed up, after all.

"Did you enjoy the lighting ceremony last Monday night?" he asks.

I preferred the part where, for a brief while, it seemed like we were the only people there, but there's no way I'll tell him that. I mean, I bet he didn't make anywhere near as much of it as I did. And I bet he's so nice, he wipes foam moustaches off of all the girls.

"Oh, yeah," I nod. "Totally." But then I cringe, remember the accident with the coffee, and... "I'm sorry about your friend, though."

"Michael?" he laughed. "He's can take it. He can be a cl..."

I know what he was going to say. He was going to say that Michael can be a clutz too. He stops himself short, and actually has the grace to look mortified. I knew it. I knew that's how he thought of me.

"I mean, uh..." And now 'he's' the one stammering and burning red. "Uh, sorry."

He reaches up and pinches his ear between his finger and thumb, like it's a nervous twitch or something.

"No, that's okay," I shake my head. "'Cause you know, I 'was' a bit of a clutz that night. I totally wasn't watching where I was going."

"It was a bit crowded," he nods. "And we 'were' going against the grain, so to speak. So, did you have fun at Quincy's Market?"

Honestly? No. Alex kept trying to put his arm around me again, and it took a quiet word from Maria to make him stop. She could tell it was making me feel uncomfortable. And all I could do was think about Libraryman anyway. I wonder if knows that he's in my fantasies when I'm alone in my bed at night? I bet this guy know that he's in the fantasies of all the girls' he meets.

"Yeah," I nod. "We did."

All this nodding we're doing. It must be contagious. In a few weeks, all of Boston will turn into nodding toys. I'm making this silent vow not to nod anymore.

"How about you?" I ask, just so he will stay there and talk to me. "Did you get to where ever it was you were going?"

"Yeah," he gives me a soft smile. I notice that he doesn't nod and I wonder if he has made the same vow. "But that wasn't for fun. That was more of a... chore."

"Oh," I widen my eyes. "Like a job?"

"Sort of," he seems amused.

And then we both fall silent, and all the while, I notice how he is looking at me. He seems to be trying to say something. You know how when you want to say something but you're not sure about saying it, your mouth makes all those shapes as you search for that first word? He's doing that. And so am I as I'm trying to form the words to ask his name.

"I need your help!" someone blurts out.

"You do?" I blurt back before I realize that it wasn't Libraryman.

It was Tess. And I feel like I have just had cold water poured over me. These two people give me all the feelings from the opposite ends of the spectrum. I can't help looking from one person to the other.

"I can see you're busy, Parker," he sighs. "Some other time."

And then he's walking away while I'm nodding hopefully at his back. So much for my vow.

"Who was that?" Tess watches him with a speculative look on her face as he walks away?

Did she just lick her lips? Okay, I have done that myself, more than once, at that same view. But come on! She wants Maxwell Evans. She can leave Libraryman for me, can't she?

"I don't know," I continue to watch him as Michael joins him by the door and with a final look over his shoulder at me, he leaves the library.

"What's his name then?" Tess tries again.

"I don't know," I repeat myself.

God! Now I'm shaking my head. At least it's a change from all that nodding.

"What do you mean?" she frowns. "You must do. He called you Parker."

"Duh," I point at my name badge.

"You better not be holding out on me, little Lizzie," her eyes harden like little agates. "Cause you know that would upset me. And you know if I get upset, I like to make myself feel better by doing things... like hurting you."

"I swear, Tess," I am starting to panic. I really don't know what to tell her. I know as much about Libraryman as she does right now. "He comes in to use the library from time to time. That's all I know about him."

If I knew anything, Tess really could get it out of me. I hope I never discover anything that she could actually use.

"Okay," she turns to look at me. "You find out his name for me. He looks like he could be fun while I'm looking for Maxwell Evans. Talking if which... use your computer and look, one student at a time, until you find a photo that resembles Evans senior. And keep an eye out for that guy, too. And if he comes in again and you can ask him his details. Now, get to your computer. I've got some new names to try."


* * *

Saturday Evening, December 9th

I really can't believe that girl. I swear, she could persuade the birds to fly north for the winter for a change. Maria has only managed to talk someone she has never met before into taking my shift on Saturday night! She won't tell me how she managed it, but I suspect I'll be working a couple of Sunday and Monday nights come the New Year.

And she won't tell me what we're going to this party tonight as, either. I've been dropping hints all week that she should let me dress as a bag lady. Hey, just dress me normally, shove some of my spare clothes in a bag and I'm the real deal. She just told me to wait and see, that she had it all arranged. I caught her rooting through some of my clothes, so I think she did listen to me, after all.

Her instructions have been pretty clear, too. Shower, shave my underarms and legs and wash my hair. No conditioner this time, so maybe she has something to make it look grungy and matted without actually making it grungy and matted. Although I do have to wonder why a bag lady would have smooth legs.

Maria's in the shower, now. So I'm sitting here in my room and wondering if I should sneak into hers and take a peek at whatever clothing she has organized for us. It wouldn't do any good in any case. I bet Maria is one of these sneaky people with really good hiding places.


* * *


"Hold still," Maria orders as she pins my hair up. Not in a bun or anything, but she's making it all flat.

"What's that?" I frown when she takes something that looks a little like a sock.

"Hmmmm," Maria takes a look at me before rolling this sock like thing onto my head. "You know, we might get through this a little faster if you just sit still, and let me work, okay?"

"Okay, Maria," I nod like a little girl.

I 'have' been asking rather a lot of questions. But what can I say? I'm worried.


Half an hour later, lots of make up, a couple of wigs, and some items of clothing I have never, ever seen before, and I am not looking at Liz Parker any more. I look like... I look like...

"I look like a whore!" I cry out.

"Duh," Maria rolls her eyes. "That's the idea, Liz. Hookers and Hobos? We're going as a couple of Hookers."

"I can't go out like this, Maria!"

I am wearing a platinum blonde wig, okay? And it's cut at my shoulders. I think it's the same type of wig that Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman. On my top half, I'm wearing a purple Merry Widow. And Maria has taken these two gel filled pads and stuffed them in the bra cups, which pushes my real, little breasts up. Oh! And she's put these blue contact lenses in my eyes. I can't believe it! I've got the three B's!

Under my black mini skirt, I'm wearing a black thong. That really worries me, but Maria's wearing almost the same stuff as me so if she can handle it, I can too. I think. My legs are covered in fishnet stockings, held up by these straps that connect to the Merry Widow. And I am wearing high heeled shoes that have three inch heels! Three inches! I measured them!

My face is covered in heavy makeup, Dark blues, and deep purples. And my lips are a bright, bright red. And my crowning glory, according to Maria, is the semi circular band of steel that she stitched into the cup of my Merry Widow. It makes me look like I have a pierced nipple. God, I hope my breasts don't spill over the top of my cups! Now that's something I never thought I would have to worry about.

And do you know what she did then? She took this tinsel and pinned it to my clothes. Now I look like a freaking porno Christmas tree.

"You look so hot, girl," she places a finger on my arm and makes a hissing sound.

Okay, I have to agree. Maria is right. Even though it's totally trashy and slutty, I do look freaking hot! And so unrecognizable, too. And you know what? So why shouldn't I have a good time? Why shouldn't I, Liz Parker, a k a the mud girl, just for one night, let my hair down and have some fun? Just like - to quote Julia's friend in Pretty Woman - Cinder-freaking-ella.

Look out world, here I come! I'm so glad that we never invited Alex. Somehow, I just don't think he would understand.


* * *


Okay, standing in front of my mirror in the safety of my room and declaring that I am going to have fun tonight, and actually going out and having fun are two different things. We caught a taxi into Boston. Maria said that we would both feel better and safer that way. Even so, the way the driver was looking at us made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. When we reached our destination, I really did expect him to ask us to pay him in kind or something. I was totally prepared to hit him if he did.


I have to add here that Maria is like me, wearing a wig. She's opted to wear a strawberry pink one and is wearing emerald green contacts. Her Merry Widow is red, and she's wearing a black mini with black fishnet stockings too. She looks even hotter than I do.


The party was being held in a rather spacious Frat House, just up the hill from where the taxi dropped us off. The house was decorated from top to bottom with lights of all kinds. It was so totally overkill... I think that this one house alone was using enough electricity to power a small town.

Once we went inside, and saw that I was dressed no worse than anyone else, I started to feel a little better. In fact, compared to some of the girls - and some guys, too - I was dressed a little conservatively. I did actually wonder if some of these girls really were hookers.

"I'll go get us a drink," Maria shouted to me over the loud rock music.

I hope she doesn't get me any beer. I really don't like beer. Actually, I don't think I like alcohol. And some of these hobos look a little worse for wear so I'm sure there is some available somewhere.

"Hey babe," someone makes a grab for my butt, but I manage to evade his hand.

He's a big guy, too. And as a hobo, he looks totally authentic. It looks like he hasn't had a bath for weeks.

"How much?" he asks me.

He laughs at his own joke like no one else thought of saying that already. I've heard other guys say it to other girls a dozen times already. I thought Harvard students were intelligent. Is this the limit of their humor?

"Two hundred bucks for five minutes," I smile sweetly at him. "But you have to have a bath first, on the clock."

"Funny," he growls, staggering away. "Bitch."

Okay, I can't help it. I'm laughing. This is actually fun. If that guy bumped into me at the library next week, I might know it was him from his size, but there's no way in hell he would ever recognize me. I have the B's now, right? Right now, I have all three of them, and when he see me next time, they'll all be gone again. Eat your heart out Clark Kent!

Remember how I said that just once, I would like it if someone checked out my breasts? I was wrong. I don't like the way some of these guys leer at me. Some look at me like I really am a hooker, and not just a student dressed up as one. Did I say just some? It seems like almost every guy is looking at me. I'm feeling kind of vulnerable right now. And just where is Maria?

I decide that rather than stand here where I am attracting unwanted attention; I should just go and find her. After making my way to the kitchen, there's no sign of her there.

"Hey there, sweets," someone by a table calls me. "What's your poison?"

"Uh, do you have any fruit juice?" I ask him.

"Sure," he nods. "Orange, pineapple, even got some tomato here."

"Orange, please."

"Sure," he reaches for one of those disposable cups. "What do you want with that? Gin? Vodka? Southern Comfort?"

"Just Orange, please," I tell him, watching the cup carefully.

He shakes his head in disappointment but he does put only orange juice in my cup.


There's no sign of Maria, so I follow the music, thinking she might have gone there to look for me. And sure enough, there she is, dancing up a storm in the middle of a trio of guys.

"Dance?" someone taps my shoulder.

Why not? I decided that I wanted to let my hair down, didn't I. And this is the ideal opportunity. I've never been to a dance before, and even though I don't know what to do, I think I can just about copy some of Maria's less flamboyant moves.

So I'm in the middle of the Frat House dining room, dancing a little like Maria, with a guy I have never met before, a guy who cannot keep his eyes off of me, and yes. I am enjoying myself. If just for a while, I can pretend that I'm someone else. I am someone that people like. And this guys sure likes me. At least, he likes what he is seeing.

I don't know how long we danced for, but I was enjoying it. The guy did keep moving closer than I thought was totally necessary, but at least his frequent touches were only on my arms. I was just wondering how to excuse myself from him and and move on.

"Let's go upstairs, babe," my dance partner brings me back to earth with a bump. He's taken my hand and is already pulling me towards the exit.

"Uh, sorry," I shake my head, pulling my hand free. "Not interested."

Because I'm not. And certainly not with that kind of pick up routine. I might be desperate, but I'm certainly not easy.

"Whatever," he shrugs and staggers off, probably to find someone else who might be easy to accompany him.


"Too expensive for him?" a warm chuckle makes my hairs stand on end.

In a good way. It sounds so familiar, so... comforting. I turn to face the new voice to see a very tall, very fit looking hobo. Should hobos have a body like his? His face has a five o'clock shadow, actually a five o'clock yesterday afternoon shadow. But on him it looks... sexy. His clothing is tattered and torn and I can't believe that it even looks good on him. Like it's a new fashion or something. He went for realism, too, and has a small stick to which a red handkerchief has been tied.

But it's his eyes. He looks totally unrecognizable, but there was no way he could disguise them... short of wearing colored contact lenses, like I did. And although my body is responding in a way I wish it really wouldn't respond given that I'm dressed as I am, I can't help feeling less overawed by him in this anonymous disguise. I can be who I want to be, for a change. And if I totally embarrass my new persona's self, my real persona will be unaffected, because he will never know it was me. If that makes any sense.

"If you want the best," I flirt with him and bat my eyelashes; "you have to pay the best prices."

"Ooh!" he smiles. "Then I really don't think I can afford you. Because in this room, tonight, you are definitely 'the' best. At least, that I have seen."

He would never have said that to the real me.

"Why thank you, handsome," I strike a classic pose straight out of Pretty Woman. "Maybe I can cut you a deal. You know, discount. If you think you're up to it."

"So what's your name?" he asks me, smiling at my antics.

'Now' he asks me? How come he never asked me that question when I never had the three B's? Huh? Men!

But hey, I can forgive him. As long as he keeps talking to me. Oh, and guess where he keeps looking? Yup. He can't keep his eyes off of my breasts. Between the gel filled pads and the shelf like bra of this Merry Widow, I am kind of on display, if you know what I mean. And of course, because my nipples are so hard right now, it's kind of obvious how he's making me feel.

"What do you want it to be?" I smirk.

Ha! I actually smirked at him for a change. And my comment has the most amazing effect on him. His eyes widen for a moment and then he starts to laugh.

"Okay," he smirks back. "I always liked the name Gertrude."

"You're kidding!" No, I mean it. He is kidding, right? Gertrude? What kind of name is Gertrude?

"Hey, I thought I was the client here," he gives me a mock frown. "If I'm selling my soul for the best, then I want her name to be Gertrude."

"Okay," I bite. "Why Gertrude?"

"Easy," his grin is like he's suddenly become a letch. "You can be Dirty Gerty."

"You're such a jerk," I slap his shoulder, starting to laugh.

I really like spending time with Libraryman.

"No fair," he shakes his head, laughing with me. "I'm not paying to be insulted. Or to be hit. Not into being dominated."

"So what are you into, then?" Inquiring minds want to know.

Really!

"Right now?" he raises his eyebrows. "You. Do you want to dance?"

A slow record has come on, and I don't know what to do. But before I can say no, he puts his hands on my hips and moves me to the dance floor. Feeling brave, because of my anonymity, I reach my arms up and link them behind his neck. It's not really dancing. All we're doing is swaying to the music, but it feels so nice. And he's even kept a respectable distance between us, even though I really want to feel him pressed against me. I am melting right here and did I tell you that my black thong is absolutely soaking wet? He can take me upstairs if he wants, and it would be totally free. Can't get a better deal than that, unless I offer to pay him!

"So..." Okay, in this moment of bravery, I'm going for it. I'm finally going to ask. "What's your name?"

He looks at me for a moment, before his grin appears. And you know what he says?

"John Doe."

Touche! I wonder if I tell him my real name, admitting to him that I am mud girl, would he tell me his real name? But I chicken out and decide that I am going to take tonight, and enjoy myself. Maria made me tuck a condom into my stocking top for authenticity and I'm really starting to think about letting him use it. I even have a couple of extras, you know, just in case.


I don't know how many songs we've danced to. All I know is that I don't care. I think some fast ones might have come on, but John Doe - well, it sounds better than Libraryman - has not let me go and neither have I let him go. We just danced together, me staring into his beautiful eyes while he stared at my phony blue ones. There is only one way that this moment could get any better. That would be if he was looking into my mud eyes, because then it would be me and not someone else this man was with. And the thought that he would not give the real me the time of day in my alias makes me feel sad.

The only reason he is spending so much time with me now is because I am blonde, blue eyes and buxom. I'm his ideal woman right now.

"Do I know you?" he finally asks in a voice that is unreadable.

"Sure you do," I confirm for him. "I'm Gertrude, remember? Dirty Gerty?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "But I have the strangest feeling I know you from somewhere."

He is studying me so intently that I really don't know where to look. I suddenly feel the need for a break from his intense stare.

"Uh... Can I get you a drink or something?" I ask him. "'Cause, you know, I'm, ah, really thirsty. All this dancing."

"Sure," he lets me go and steps back. "Just a coke for me, please?"

"One coke coming up," I wink at him.

Way to go me! But I totally spoil everything when I turn too quickly and lose my balance on my high heels. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be if I fell over and flashed my underwear to everyone? My tiny black, soaking wet underwear that has kind of bunched up and traveled into a place it really ought not to have traveled? But John Doe catches me in his strong arms again, and this is just so déjà vu.

"Enjoy you're trip?" he smiles.

"Didn't you get my post card?"

My answer was automatic. And I wonder if he even heard it because he is staring at my breasts with such intensity! Did he just lick his lips? And then, he quickly turns away, looking away from me as he helps me to stand upright. I look down and can't believe it. I think I might die right here. One of my breasts has kind of popped out a little bit and my little pink but very hard nipple is showing.

"Oh, god!" I can't help squealing as I tuck it back in.

"I didn't see anything," John Doe shakes his head.

"Liar," I can't help teasing him. Okay, I'm so embarrassed, but so is he and it's really cute. "But that's okay. I mean, you saved me from flashing worse."

Now it's his turn to turn fifty seven shades of red. This guy is too cute. I wish he liked mud people.

"Okay," he admitted. "I saw. And can I say how cute it looked?"

Wow! That was a good save from him and I really don't know how to answer that. I'm kind of burning up right now and I really, really need that cooling drink.

"I'll go and get..." I point at the kitchen, blushing furiously.

"The drinks," he nods at me. Good idea. I'll be out on the patio," he indicates the doors. "If that's okay?"

Huh? He's asking me permission to get some air? Oh, I see. He's checking to make sure that I'll be comfortable with him outside alone. Does he even know how often I have dreamed that? I can feel that condom in my stocking top and it feels like it's burning me.

"Okay," I nod.

Again with the freaking nodding!


"Okay, Chica," Maria is in the kitchen getting a drink. Her lipstick is all smudged and her lips are swollen. Her clothing looks in a lot more disarray than mine, too. I can't believe that I'm really hoping that I can sample what that feels like myself, quite soon. "You seem to be awfully pally with that hobo. Having a good time?"

"The best," I grin at her. I realize that she doesn't recognize who it is that I'm dancing with. But that's okay, because I get the feeling that Maria would make things complicated for me. "How about you?" I smirk at her. Another smirk! "It looks like you're enjoying yourself."

"Yeah," Maria nods. "Oh, and guess what? I have it on the best authority that Libraryman and Spike are not gay."

"Okay," I nod, wondering who Spike is, and why she even mentioned that. Does she recognize him after all? "So where's your... uh, partner?"

"Around here, somewhere," Maria started to look around. "Oh, well. He'll show up. I kind of hinted that I had some condoms and knew how to use them."

"Maria," I roll my eyes with a grin. "You are so bad."

"You have some too," she winked. "And if you don't know how to use them, ask your hobo. I'm sure he knows."

"Maria!" I scold her.

Can she see my face burn? Can she sense how my body is on fire right now? Can she tell that's exactly what I want to do? And I really would like to get my lipstick smudged, first.

"I better take John his drink."

"Oh," she cocked an eye. "Is that his name?"

"It is tonight," I chuckle. "John Doe. And mine's Gerty."

"Huh?"

"Never mind," I shake my head. You had to be there, I guess. "Catch you later."

"Later, babe," she winks. "Have fun."


When I get to the doorway to the patio with the drinks, John Doe is talking to someone. At first I thought maybe another girl had found him, but then I heard Michael's voice. I figured I could wait, give them a few moments to compare notes. Okay, I wanted to hear what John Doe said about me.

"You sure you're okay with this, Max?" Michael asked him.

Hooray! At last, I find out! His real name is Max. Interesting. I can use this. I suppress my giggle.

"Sure," I hear Max reply. "I'm having a good time with Gerty, so just enjoy yourself. You deserve a night off."

"Who's Gerty?" Michael's response makes me giggle quietly.

"She's uhm..." and Max laughed. "She's a hooker."

"Funny, Maxwell," I can almost imagine Michael rolling his eyes. "Any idea who?"

Maxwell? Where have I heard that name before?

"No," Max says. "I like her. She's nice. She has something. I like spending time with her, and she reminds me so much of... But she's not who I want."

"I know," Michael sighs. "I guess she never showed, huh?"

"No," he sighed sadly. "But then I don't think this sort of party is her thing. Besides, she has a boyfriend."

Okay, this is interesting. Sad, but interesting. It seems that my John Doe, Max has a secret crush on someone, who is seeing another guy. And I have a secret crush on him. Life can be so unfair sometimes. I just want to cry right now.

"Well, I can't be sure," Michael says. "But I think this girl I'm with right now was the feisty one who..."

I don't hear the rest because some drunken clown... I mean hobo is trying to drag me to the dance floor. By the time I extricate myself, and get back to the doorway. I have missed that part of their conversation. And guess what? Now the clock is striking midnight, and I'm standing right next to it. I can't hear a freaking word they are saying. When the ringing stops, I hope I might be able to work out what they were talking about. But what I hear next sends my world into a tailspin, as well as sending the two plastic cups of drink I have to the floor.

"...just approach her tell her that you are Maxwell Evans and that you like her. Jesus, Max, I saw how she was looking at you. She's not going to turn you down."

Okay... Just as soon as this room stops spinning, I will process this. That man on the patio, that man I was dancing with, that I have a major crush on... my Libraryman, aka mild mannered John Doe is also moonlighting as Maxwell Philip Evans?

Oh... my... god!

And then it hits me. Tess! Not only is she hunting high and low for Maxwell Evans, but she also has a stated desire for Libraryman. I would just die if I ever saw him with her. And Tess will drag this information from me because I am so weak, she will see the guilt written all over my face. For all my jokes about Tess getting what she deserves, Tess is so not what Max deserves. I just couldn't do that to him. I love him too much.

The fleeting thought that maybe the girl that Max is in love with is actually Tess almost crushes me.


I have to do everything in my power to make sure that Tess does not find out who Max is. And that means I have to make sure that not only do I never see Tess again, I can never see Max again either. Tears spring up in my eyes, and I just know that the cheap makeup is running.

My heart is slowly crumbling as I find our coats. I know Maria is going to bitch like hell when I drag her away from who ever she's with but I don't care. I have to get out of here. I have to get as far away from Max as I can.


* * *

[WR]

Hi everyone!

A big hello and thank you to all the new names appearing in my thread.

A big hello and thank you to all those names who have reappeared after being lurkers for ages.

A big hello and thank you to all my regular readers who leave feedback.

FYI - A Merry Widow, aka, a basque... Look it up Victoria's Secet.

Glad you are all enjoying my story still... and I hope you enjoy tonight's episode. I'm sure you will.


I Hate Christmas


The only things in life you regret,
are the risks that you didn't take.
~ by Anonymous ~

Part 5

Saturday Afternoon, December 16th

I’ve always known that life isn’t fair. First, it took my mother, then it took my father, and then, to cap it all, it gave me a brief glimpse of happiness before snatching it away from me in a particularly cruel fashion. And every time, I have picked myself up and got on with my life. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I think I’ve reached my breaking point, because I really don’t feel like going on anymore.

I know what you’re thinking. How come I don’t just stand up to Tess and fight for what I want? I’ll tell you. No matter how much I want Max, let’s face reality here. Suppose, just suppose, it came down to a contest between Tess and me. The ‘real’ me, I mean. I know for a fact that Max was attracted to the three B’s, okay? He was only interested in me that night because I was blonde, I had blue eyes, and I had a decent set of breasts for him to ogle at. But you and I both know that none of that was real. What Tess has, is.

And I heard him, plain as day, tell Michael that the girl he was interested in already had a boyfriend. I’m really starting to be afraid that it’s Tess that he’s worshipping from afar. She matches the criteria. She has all the three ‘B’s’ that he likes and she has a boyfriend. I heard him say that I reminded him of someone. Let’s recap, shall we? Short. Blonde. Blue eyed. Buxom. Boyfriend. The only thing I lacked that night was the boyfriend. Oh my god, a fourth ‘B’.

I can’t believe it! Max Evans is in love with Tess Harding!

And suppose something had happened between us that night? How do you think he would have reacted when I took my wig off, and he freed my breasts from the Merry Widow, to reveal my mud hair and my flat chest held up with gel pads? I’ll tell you, shall I? He’d have run a mile. Screaming, probably. ‘Cause I’m not Tess.

So first of all, it was safest for the both of us for me to back off. At least that way, when I next saw him in the library, he would have never known it was me, he would not have treated me any differently, and no one would have got embarrassed. Well, except for me.

But my discovery that Libraryman was really Maxwell Philip Evans made my knowing him a danger to his sanity. Yes, I’m sure that Max would be attracted to Tess, yes, he might be in love with her, but from what little I know of him, he doesn’t want a total slut for a wife. And like I said, once Tess set her mind on someone, she got him. He would have caved, like they all had in the past. And knowing that Tess can make me tell her whatever she wants to know, it’s safest for all concerned that I break off all contact with them both. And as my main point of contact for them was the Widener Library, well… Let’s just say that I’m revising my plan right now and looking for another job. In fact, I am even considering transferring to UNM in Las Cruces next semester, you know, my home town.

More than anyone, I know that no one can protect anyone from everything. But I need to protect Max. From himself. And the best way I can do that is to make sure he maintains his anonymity from Tess.


So what have I been doing for the last week? Wow. Was it really a week ago that I was getting ready to go to that party? Well… I’ve been pretty miserable, actually. Sunday, I had to work, part of the deal Maria had arranged with Toyah, one of the other waitresses. Monday, too. And I tried really hard to immerse myself in my job and not think of things. Do I need to add how badly I failed?

‘Cause you see, Max has put this force on me. I can’t stop thinking about him. Why can’t all his stocks and shares crash so that he becomes poor, like me? ‘Cause then Tess wouldn’t want to know him. Probably all the other gold diggers would leave him alone then, too. And then I could maybe offer him a shoulder of comfort. And maybe he might find that he could come to like one of the mud people. He did seem friendly to me whenever we have met in the past. But that could just be his nature.

I was worried that Maria would call me on what happened. On our way home in the taxi, she was quiet. I think she was mad at me because I interrupted her plans for some guy she had hooked up with. But she made sure that I was okay before she went to bed. She never once made a comment, for which I am truly grateful. I can’t lose Maria, too. I think she believed that Max – of course, she doesn’t know that it was Max, heck, she didn’t even know it was Libraryman –I think she believes someone has hurt me. And all of this week, in spite of not showing her anger, she has been avoiding me.


Alex has proved what a sweetheart he is by coming round in the early evening before my shift starts, just to hang out with me. He knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know me well enough to just ask me. I’m sure he would ask Maria if it had been her who was upset, but then he’s known her a long time.

See? That’s what you get for doing things without a plan. Chaos moves in and takes over. And for a while there, I was starting to think that maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all, you know? But then this happened. And now I hate Christmas. Again. Only even more. Only bad things happen at Christmas. Peace on earth and goodwill to all men? Peace off.


So I’m in the diner, serving the loners and the losers, like me, while anyone with even half a life is out having fun. Mr. Study Date never came in tonight, so either he has got lucky, given up, or maybe he has just gone home for the holidays. Or maybe he has just finally found a life.

The bell rings, a little Christmas jingle that make me roll my eyes, and as always, I check my watch before looking up to see who it is. Why do I do this? I really don’t know. Maybe I just want to see some proof that my life really is moving forward. Anyway, when I look up, my blood freezes.

“Tess!” I gasp.

She’s found me.

“Hey, Sis,” she does not look happy. “I’ve been going by the library all week, looking for you, and guess what I finally find out?”

“What?” I ask, knowing full well that her question was rhetorical.

“You weren’t there.”

“I, uhm… they fired me, Tess,” I lie. “They caught me looking up student records.”

“Uh huh,” she nods. “So why is it that the Head Librarian told me last night that you quit? Why did she ask me to tell you that they haven’t accepted your resignation, that they have placed you on leave and they hope that you will return after Christmas?”

“Oh,” is all I can say.

See what I mean about Tess? People take an instant like to her. It’s like she can make them see whatever she wants.

“Yes,” she nods. “And she was so helpful, reminding me where you lived. And when you weren’t at home, I figured I’d wait in here until you were. Only look! I find you here. Working. So why don’t you tell me why you quit your library job?”

“Uh…” Oh, oh. Lying has never been one of my strong points. “Denny’s offered me more hours,” I shrug. “And with the cut in traveling time and the savings on the ‘T’ fares, I’m actually better off.”

“Try again,” her voice is really, really cold right now.

“No, really,” I shake my head, which matches my shaking body.

“I’m not stupid, you know. You found something, didn’t you?” Her eyes narrow into tiny little slits. “You found out who Maxwell Evans is and you’re thinking maybe you can keep him to yourself.”

“No,” I shake my head. “’Cause you know… I… He… he wouldn’t…”

“That’s right,” she nods. “He wouldn’t. Not with you.” She gives an evil little laugh. “Not with a non entity like you. I mean, please! Look at you, Liz. Do you think he would choose you when he can have me? In what world do you live?”

I’ve heard that before. Another film.

“I…”

“Do you like him?” she snarls like a vixen hunting her quarry.

I heard one, once, when we lived in Alaska. I was only three at the time, but it’s a sound I’ll never forget. It sounded just like Tess.

“I…”

There are only two people on this planet who can make me forget my vocabulary. One does it in a warm, caring manner that he isn’t even aware of. The other does it so deliberately it makes my skin crawl.

“Do you?”

“Yes!” I blurt, only because I’m afraid of that voice.

In Alaska, that fox ripped the throat out of a little rabbit just after I heard that snarl. And I divulge my biggest secret because of that memory. Well, my second biggest secret. The first will probably be revealed any moment now.

“So who is it?” she demands. “Where can I find him?”

I really don’t want to tell her. I really wish that I could be strong. I really don’t want to subject Max to someone like Tess. Because no matter how much he likes her, in the end, she’s going to hurt him. She’s going to cause him the same kind of pain I have already experienced, and I really don’t want to be the cause of that kind of pain to anyone.

“I…” I move back a step.

My vocabulary never seems to improve.

“Tell me,” she hisses, grabbing my arm.

Tess used to give me these really wicked skin burns. She used to call them Indian Burns and I don’t mean wicked in the sense of ‘good’. But before I can steel myself against her rubbing, she has twisted my arm into a half nelson. My face has been pushed down to the table and I can’t help wondering why no one wants to help me.

“Tell me,” she barks. “Or I’ll break your freaking arm!”

My cries of pain drown out the bell ringing out again. Almost, because I still hear it.


“You get your filthy hands off of Liz,” Maria’s voice comes out even colder than Tess’s.

Does she want a piece of me herself?

“Let go of her or you’re really going to wish you hadn’t been born.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Tess sneers.

“That’s your first mistake then,” I hear Maria’s voice drop lower.

The next thing I hear is Tess’s sudden shriek and then she starts to whimper. There are some more strange sounds and I hear a couple of cries of pain. It’s some time before I realize that she’s not holding me down any more. The bell rings again and I feel some soothing arms pulling me up.

“You alright, babe?” Maria has her arm around me and is moving me into a seat.

I can’t help it. I’m weak. With everything that has happened to me, I start to cry. Actually, I start to bawl like a baby.

“Oh, Maria!” I wail. “What am I going to do?”

“How about we get some hot water to make some herbal teas,” she’s holding me with one arm while her other hand stokes my hair, and in spite of everything, I am wishing it was Libraryman, John Doe or Maxwell Evans doing it instead of Maria. I’ve heard that there’s nothing like a masculine pair of arms when you are upset. “And you can tell me all about it.”

I nod gratefully, and prepare myself for my confession.


* * *


Monday Afternoon, December 18th


They say that confession is good for the soul. My soul, then, is in terrible shape. I wish I could say that I poured my heart out to Maria, and told her everything. Yes, I wish I even told her about why I ran from that party in tears, about how I discovered that Libraryman was Maxwell Evans.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I told her a tale of how my scheming foster sister was trying to make me go back to work for her as her unpaid maid, how she wanted to ruin my life… You know, things like that. And Maria, bless her, believed every word. At least I think she did. She just nodded, and said, ‘I see’.


So as I was saying, my soul is probably in a poor shape, which means it’s the exact twin of my heart. I spent all day Sunday crying in my room. Maria popped out a few times, and fortunately, Alex didn’t come around. I don’t think I could have handled him offering me his shoulder to cry on. Somehow, him not telling me ‘I told you so’, when I know he really wants to, would not have helped my mood. On Sunday evening, Maria produced another carton of Ice Cream. If I ate enough of it, do you think the extra weight might settle on my breasts?

It turns out that Maria’s been kind of upset herself. She has not seen her own hobo from the night of the party, and she confessed to me that she felt something special about him. Yes, it made me feel worse but there’s no need to say anything to Maria, okay? Because as much as I know I deserve it, I don’t want her to hate me.


“When are you going home, Maria?” I ask, looking at the wall calendar from the local Chinese Take Out, a remnant from last year’s students.

There are only seven days until Christmas and Maria has not once brought the subject up. Neither has she made any move to pack for her trip.

“I’m not,” she shakes her head as if it was nothing.

“You’re not?” I can’t help looking surprised.

I can’t help wondering if she’s staying because she’s afraid that I might do something stupid while she’s gone.

“No way, babe,” she shakes her head. “I’m not going to leave you on your own for Christmas and it’s too short notice to spring you on my mom.”

“You don’t have to stay, Maria,” I tell her sincerely. I might be upset, but I’m not suicidal. “I’ll be fine. And I have all this studying to catch up on.”

“It’s what friends are for,” Maria shrugs with a shake of her head.

It seems I have lots to learn about having friends who actually care about you. Including how to tell them the truth.


* * *


Tuesday Evening, December 19th


“It’s really slow tonight,” I comment to Darren, tonight’s short order cook, stuck in the kitchen.

Because there are so few students around, we don’t do much business, especially during the week. And with everyone going home for the holidays, there’s only Darren and myself in tonight. Frank, the man who owns the franchise has insisted that we stay open. I wonder how long he will keep this up because we have only had three customers in tonight. Well, apart from the half a dozen students who came in to grab a take out coffee.

Oh, Darren isn’t a student. He’s a high school drop out and apparently this is the only work he can get now. He’s a few years older than me, lives with his girlfriend and has an eighteen-month-old child. Only a little taller than me, he looks like the sort of guy who, when he was at school, was one of the popular jocks. One of the thick headed goons who always protect the arrogant, handsome one. His arms are now covered in tattoos of half naked women and snakes. He has ‘LOVE’ tattooed across the knuckles of one hand and “HATE” tattooed across the knuckles of the other. What’s with that, anyway? Maria says he uses one had to punch other people in the face and his other to spank his monkey. I never heard that particular euphemism before; I had to ask her what she meant.

To be honest, Darren makes me feel uncomfortable, because he has hit on every single waitress here. Except me. Why would anyone hit on me?

“We could always close up early,” he suggests with a shrug, leaning against the window through which he passes the orders. “It’s probably costing him more to keep us open.”

“With my luck,” I sigh, “ he’ll come in and check on us. I need this job.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with reluctance. “Me too.”

I sit down at a stool by the counter and stare at the salt shaker as I slide it across the smooth surface from on hand to another.

“Guy trouble?” he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Kind of,” I nod in a quiet voice.

“I can dig it,” he nods as though he’s like, this wise man that knows all. “My ol’ lady and me had a big bust up this morning. Not sure where I’m, sleepin’ tonight.”

“Oh,” I state simply.

“I know what you need,” he smiles with what I assume he considers a mysterious smile.

It’s too much like the leers I saw from the taxi driver last weekend.

“Oh,” I repeat.

No, it’s not that Darren makes me forget my vocabulary. I just can’t be bothered. I really don’t feel like talking, let alone listening, and I’m not totally paying attention.

“You need to get laid,” he moves toward me. “A piece of Daz the Man and you will never want no college punk again.”

“What?” I look up with my jaw dropping.

Did he just hit on me? It’s a season of firsts. But before I can verbalize the scathing comment that has already formed in my mind, the bell rings. I’m so disgusted with Darren that I look at the door without checking my watch first.


* * *


Tuesday Night, December 19th


I hadn’t really expected her to, but Maria didn’t show up this evening, so it looks like I’m walking home alone. It doesn’t bother me because I’ve done it so many times already, and my route is brightly lit. It’s just… I could really use the company, you know? I mean, I know I won’t tell her anything about what I’m thinking, but at least having Maria going on and on about some inane event in her life is far better than listening to myself think on and on about another completely different inane event in ‘my’ life.

And those footsteps that I hear behind me are not doing much for my thought process in any case.


To my knowledge, no one has been attacked on campus. At least, I certainly haven’t heard of any attacks. And I’m pretty sure that Maria would have heard something if there had been. And if Maria had heard anything, then she would never allow me to walk home alone. And I don’t think Alex would, either.

My reaction to hearing the steps behind me is probably universal. I quicken my pace. I remember reading a story about some escaping prisoners during World War Two, that when they were approaching the Swiss border, they started to run, even though this would surely draw attention to themselves. Their rational for this was that when someone calls to a person who is walking to stop, their reaction is to stop. When they call to a person who is running, their reaction is to run faster. And hearing footsteps behind you makes you walk faster.

So what do you do when those footsteps start to move just as fast as you?

I bet you never suspected that I would say that you run straight into the person who steps out of the dark alleyway, right in front of you.

“Tess!” I almost shriek.


Yeah, it’s Tess. And she has this menacing look to her. I can’t help looking over my shoulder to see if help is coming up, but the footsteps seem to have vanished. I wonder for a moment if I might have been safer if I had faced the possible rapist serial killer?

“There’s no one to help you this time, you little miserable worm,” she hisses. “So don’t think that your friend will suddenly appear to save your scrawny hide.”

She walks a few steps that takes her in a circle around me. I can’t help my fear rising as I watch every single one of her steps.

“I’ll say this only once, Liz,” her voice sound’s very cold. “And I’ll speak slowly and clearly, so that you don’t misunderstand what I am saying, okay?”

I just nod my head, because I can’t speak anyway. My body is not shaking from the temperature.

“You know who Max Evans is, correct?”

I wanted to cry. Not out of fear or anything, but because I had made myself miserable, and ruined Maria’s chances with someone she likes, just to prevent this very moment from happening. And it didn’t work.

“Yes,” my voice comes out like ashes.

“So who is he?” she snaps. “Where can I find him?”

“I don’t know where you can find him,” I shake my head. I don’t like the way she looks at me. “I don’t, Tess. Honest. Apart from one time at the Boston Common, I’ve only ever seen him at the library. He’s that guy you saw there that time.”

Okay, I can’t believe it. How did I manage to keep my meeting with him at that party from her? Oh, wait. Simple. That wasn’t me. That was Dirty Gerty.

“So that was Max Evans,” she brings her finger to her lips and holds her wrist with her other hand. She looks funny when she’s deep in thought but I don’t laugh. “How come you never told me?”

“I only found out the other day,” my head drops. “And I really don’t know how to find him, so please don’t ask.”

“You might not,” she grins at me with a look of triumph. “But I do. I happen to know that he will be attending a special Harvard Christmas Ball on Christmas Eve. I saw him buying some tickets. Two, in fact. One for him, and the other was probably for his bodyguard.”

I had never noticed any bodyguards around Max. Only his friend, Michael. Had Max found a date already? I hope the girl Max was taking could protect him from Tess.

“All I need is take some friends with me to run interference on his guard and the lucky guy is as good as mine. Looks like my Christmas present this year is going to be a very rich husband.”

And then Tess is looking at me again. With a look that chills me to my bones.

“If I see hide or hair of you any where near that Ball, or anywhere near Max,” she hisses, “then I’ll make sure that you are humiliated beyond all reason. And I’ll make sure that Max Evans sees every single millisecond of your ordeal. Capiche?”

Tess was always impressed with gangster talk. I think she believes this is a genuine Italian word.

“Capisco,” I nod looking down at the hard ground.

There is no way that you will get me within ten miles of Max Evans now. No way, no how. I know what Tess is capable of.

“You know,” Tess looks at me again. “You should have taken up that grease monkey’s offer earlier. That’s probably the best offer you’re ever going to get.”

How did she know about that?

She’s singing ‘Jingle Bells’ as she walking away from me, and I can’t help wishing that I could sing ‘Tess got run over by a reindeer…’


* * *


It’s pretty easy to understand that by the time I get home, I am in tears, right? I mean, I’ve been upset all week, but this is more so. I’m at rock bottom. I have actually lead Tess right to Max Evans doorstep. I might just as well have had him gift wrapped for her.

“Oh, Chica,” Maria notices how upset I am at once.

I did tell you how perceptive Maria could be, right?

“What’s the matter, hun?”

But no matter how bad I am feeling, I can’t tell her. I accept the warm and comforting embrace that she pulls me into but I don’t say a word to her. She pulls back and studies me for a moment. Finally, after holding me again, she says in that soothing voice of hers:

“We need something to look forward to, you and me. Let’s go out on Sunday night. You’re not working, right?”

“Sunday?” I start to gather in my emotions. “But… but that’s Christmas Eve.”

“Can you think of a better night to go out?” Maria just looks at me in that warm, unwavering way of hers.

I have to admit that I can’t think of a better night to go out. Maybe it might help me to forget that Tess will me getting her man, ‘my’ Libraryman that night.

“I don’t want to go out,” I shake my head.

I won’t be any much company.

“Think about it,” she hugs me again and then returns to her room.


* * *


Sunday Morning, December 24th


“Come on sleepy head!” Maria wakes me up while it’s still dark outside. “We’re going to the Mall today.”

I’ve hardly seen Maria all week, but when I have seen her, she hasn’t seemed as miserable as she has been, lately. I guess she really had been looking forward to going out tonight, which she reminds me about every day, and I say that I can’t go, every day.

“Go to the Mall on Christmas Eve?” I grown pulling the blankets up over my head to block the light that Maria has just turned on. “Maria, are you crazy?”

“Totally,” Maria pulls the covers from me and nods too enthusiastically for my mind. “Now get your ass out of that bed and into that shower while I get us some breakfast. We need to fortify ourselves against the enemy.”

“Enemy?” I groan, sitting up and putting my feet on the floor. “What enemy?”

“The hordes of shoppers that are standing between us and what we want.”

“And what do we want, Maria?”

I already bought her some new fragrance candles and some aromatherapy ampoules. What more do I need? Have present will travel. But she ignores me and disappears into the other room to prepare our pre-battle breakfast.


I have noticed that Maria likes to shop only in specific stores. I think the best adjective to describe them would be ‘expensive’. And it dawns on me that maybe she likes to go into these stores when they are fairly busy just so that she can be seen trying on dresses that would take me half a year in wages and tips to pay for. There hasn’t been a single dress that she’s made me try on that I could afford, even on a good day. And the amazing thing is, there has been so little material to all of them. Is the cloth made from pure gold thread and then dyed?


Then she made me try on this red dress. She said that the color red did a certain something for me. I really don’t know if words could do it justice, but I guess I can try and describe it for you.

It’s sleeveless, for a start. It only has one shoulder. The top swoops down from that one shoulder and under the other arm, leaving that other shoulder bare. The bit that goes under my arm runs as a strip across the top of my back and meets up with the part over my shoulder. One side and my front is covered, but the other side is bare, and so is my back. The dress is angled; on one side, the dress is mid thigh, almost a mini, while on the other it’s just above my knee. See? Words can’t describe it. It really is incredible. And the most amazing thing is that I don’t need to have a big bust to carry it off.

“Oh Chica,” Maria is shaking her head. Her mouth is practically hanging open. “You look so awesome in that dress. That’s the one, huh?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “And when I have saved up enough money to pay for it, I can afford to retire.”

Has she even seen the price?

“Well, take it off,” she nods, “and try this one on.”

The dress she has handed me was from the rails nearest the changing rooms. It wasn’t even my size. It seemed pretty random to me and I wonder why she chose it. While Maria puts the lovely red dress away, I try it on anyway.

“Nah,” she shakes her head when she comes back to check me out. “Oh well, time to move on anyway.”

Maria had tried on some dresses as well. It wasn’t all me. And I can’t believe that she bought one. She won’t let me see it. I guess she paid for it while I was trying on that last dress. Where does she get her money? And she’s carrying that bag through the crowds like she’s some peahen with a new set of feathers! Only I know that peahens aren’t the one’s that have the feathers. It’s the males, the peacocks that do. Now isn’t ‘that’ interesting?

The next stop was a shoe store that I have never even looked inside, let alone stepped into. Yes, the shoes were exquisite. Yes, they were all names that I have heard about in some of these fashion shows, or when they spotlight some leading actress or something. Maria made me try on all these different styles, but they all had something in common. They were all red, and they were all extremely high.

“Why red, Maria?” I ask her.

“Like I said,” she shrugged. “It is so your color.”


When we were at the food court, having a refreshing cup of cola, Maria remembered that she had left the bags in the shoe store, and left me with our drinks while she went to get them. And she’s so calm about it. If it had been me who had left an expensive dress in another store, I would have been in a panic about it.

The good thing about the stores we went into was that the Christmas crowds didn’t. Apart from when we were moving from one high-class store to another, we never had to contend with the crowds. Until, that is, Maria decided that a visit to Victoria’s Secret was a must.

”Just in case Santa gets a little frisky, tonight,” she wiggled her eyebrows at me. “I want him to see me at my best. Wouldn’t you?”

Not when to me, Santa is a man who blows your father away.

I wait outside for her, holding her bags. There is no way that I am joining the crush of young women buying racy underwear to please their men. Or young men buying racy underwear in the hope that their girls will please them. Not when I don’t have a man in my life.


Sunday Afternoon, December 24th


Alex is sitting in the hallway, outside our door when we return, fully laden with bags that seem heavier than they should be. My mind reels at how much money Maria must have spent today. Not only on clothes, but also on cosmetics and perfumes. They were all of the best quality. And why did she have to test them all on me, too? It’s not like I’m ever going to borrow them from her or anything. How did she get a credit card, anyway?

“How long have you been there?” Maria asks him as I unlock our door.

“Thirty minutes,” he shrugs. “Where have you been?”

I don’t know whether to just answer him, or stare at him incredulously. We have god knows how many bags with us, all labeled with store names and he asks us where we have been? Maria answers for me.

“Shopping,” she shrugs, holding up her bags for emphasis. I guess she really is used to Alex. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he parrots with a frown.

He seems surprised. But why did he have to repeat what Maria asked?

“Maria,” he states. “It’s Christmas Eve. We always have our movie marathon night on Christmas Eve. I got all six episodes of Star Wars.”

“Oh, sorry, Alex,” she doesn’t look very sorry. “Not this year.”

“Maria!” he exclaims. “It’s tradition.”

“Tradition’s change, Alex,” she sighs. “This year, I have a date.”

“You do?” Alex slumps.

She does?

He looks so disappointed. And if Maria has a date, I am so not going to play the third wheel. I’m about to tell him that I don’t have a date and so I’ll watch the films with him but Maria beats me to the punch.

“Cinderella and I are going to the Ball.”


* * *

[WR]

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY READERS!!

Hi everyone,

I really hoped to get this posted for Christmas Eve but I was just way too busy, and Christmas Day was just to hectic. I am so sorry, but I hope this chapter more than makes up for it.

I guess you can all sense that this is the final chapter, right?



Thanks for you feedback throughout the story, and I'll see you all again in the New Year when I take up my other story, Red Shift.



I Hate Christmas


True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist,
Nor can it be hidden where it truly does.
~ by Anonymous ~

Part 6

Sunday Afternoon, December 24th


"Maria," I sigh. "I can't go to a ball."

Alex is in the other room watching his Star Wars films. Seeing as he doesn't own a DVD player and Maria does, we've allowed him to crash here for the night. And for some bizarre reason, he's watching Episode Four first. He said something about watching it the way it was made.

"For a start, it's not like I have anything to wear. And if you have a date, then I'm just going to be in the wa..."

And then it dawns on me. And the blood drains from my entire body.

"Maria? What ball are you talking about?"

"The big ball that the Evan's family is throwing," she shrugs. "See, I heard that the rumors of Max Evans' incognito presence on the Harvard campus was causing so many problems for everyone, what with all the girls trying to find out who he was and everything, that they've decided to unmask him, so to speak. All of the available young ladies at Harvard have been given the chance to attend a special Christmas Ball so that they can meet Max Evans, but more importantly, so that Max can meet them."

Oh... my... God.

"And what's this ball called?"

But I already know.

"The Special Harvard Christmas Ball," she shrugs. "Why?"

"I thought you said it was for the young ladies of Harvard?"

Yes, I am avoiding telling her. Yes, I am trying to find a way out.

"What's your point?"

"Maria..."

Okay, I am well and truly caught. There is no way on Earth that I can go to this ball. Not if I want to maintain what little dignity I have. If Tess should carry out her threat, Boston College is not so isolated that the story of my abject humiliation won't reach there. And even though I have already considered moving, I don't think I could face the reality of that.

So I tell Maria everything. I mean, everything. I tell her how I feel about Libraryman, about how I met him at the Hookers and Hobos Hoe-down, about how badly I wanted to him to seduce me, and about how, and why, I ran away when I discovered that he was Maxwell Philip Evans. I told her about Tess, and how she frightens me, and how she now knows who Max is and her plan to land him. I then told her why I could not go to the ball.

And do you know what Maria said?

"Then we'll just have to make sure that Tess won't recognize you."

And then it dawns on me. Of course! I could wear my blonde wig and the blue contact lenses. Tess would never recognize me like that. And with the confidence that being Gertrude gave me, 'she' could approach Max and warn him all about Tess, thwarting her plans. Maybe, just maybe... this might actually work.

After my shower, during which I once again shaved my legs and underarms, and exfoliated myself, all under Maria's strict instructions, my friend attacked me with her devices of torture. She might have given them innocent names like 'curling tongs' and 'eyelash curlers' and 'tweezers' but I'm pretty sure that Amnesty International would be really interested in the two hour long session of torture that she subjected to me to. Had I known any state secrets, I would have spilled them all. At least when she attacked my face with the cosmetics she bought earlier that day wasn't bad, but I'm sure subjecting me to chemical clouds of Channel is against every convention of humanity, right?

I am still wondering what to wear with my blonde wig when it dawns on me that Maria wasn't pinning my hair up like she had done for that party. It was still loose, and cascading in curls across my shoulders like a... like a...

"You're hair is so lovely," Maria runs her hand through it. "It looks just like a chocolate waterfall."

I catch myself in the mirror. And I am forced to admit that she might be right. My hair looks so warm, and shiny. And vibrant! Where has all the mud gone?

"And with those eyes! Que buena! Como una mariposa!

I hope that means she likes what she sees. But there's a problem. I still look like... well, like me.

Maria than hands me this tiny piece of red lace.

"What is it?" I frown, unfolding it.

Okay, when I see what it is, my face is burning the same color.

"Maybe it's something special for Santa tonight," she winks. "Courtesy of Victoria's Secret. Now put them on."

"But what am I wearing?" I ask as I pull the thong up my legs, under my dressing gown. "Maria, you've seen what clothes I have, and that dress I bought the other week is so not suitable for a Ball."

"But this one is," she smiles at me and produces that lovely red dress I had tried on this morning.

"Maria!" I gasp. "Please tell me you didn't spend all that money on me."

"Okay," she shrugs as she hands the beautiful dress to me. "I didn't. Here. I'll help you put it on."

Did I tell you that Maria can be infuriating sometimes? And I just know that she has also bought that pair of red high heels that just happened to go with my new dress. What I hadn't counted on was the self supporting, sheer thigh high stockings.

Okay, I'll admit it. I looked... and I felt like a million dollars, which is what I think this might have cost Maria. Okay, and for the millionth time, I tell myself to stop exaggerating.


As we both slip out of my bedroom, though, I'm having second thoughts. It's one thing to see yourself looking like a million dollars in the mirror, but we always have a higher opinion of ourselves than other people do. Right?

"Maria," I stop in my tracks, wobbling a bit on the heels. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," she turns and faces me. She has this stern, matronly look. "Look at you Chica, you're beautiful. And you're certainly not one of those fake Barbie doll girls Max is running away from. You're probably more real than he can handle."

"But he liked me when I was blonde and... well... you know."

"Did you ever think that it was you he was attracted to, and not what you looked like? Liz, there is something about you. And you can't help but notice it. And no dress, wig or contacts can hide it. Maybe he saw the real you and still found you attractive."

"Maria, he couldn't take his eyes of my breasts."

"Liz, Liz, Liz," Maria shakes her head with a laugh. "That's a guy for you. When you round your puppies up and put them on show like that, of course a guy will look. They can't help it. But look how he reacted when your nipple popped out. He looked away to help you preserve your dignity, but not till he looked first."

"I don't know if I can do this, Maria," I repeat shaking my head.

"If you won't do it for yourself," she takes both of my hands in hers. "Do it for me."

"I'll try," I nod, looking down at the ground.

And at that moment, a croaky green voice speaks from the television in front of which Alex is fast asleep.

"Do or do not. There is no try."


And something dawns on me. Something that Jack Frost said in his film. As long as you always hold someone in your heart, you will never lose him. Only I had forgotten that. And it took a wise old puppet to remind me that my Mom never really left me. She's always been looking out for me. And she has just reminded me, just when I needed my Mom the most that she has always been there for me. I just forgot. And I also knew that whatever happened this night, my Dad would be there too, doing the best he could, and protecting me from everything. He might not be able to succeed, but he can sure try. I guess that's where he went wrong. He should have realized that sometimes, we have to suffer things that people can't protect us from. Like illnesses and broken hearts. But I know that for tonight, I have a guardian angel and Tess had better not mess with me!

"You okay?" Maria frowned at me.

"Yeah," I nod with a huge smile. "This mariposa just got her wings back."


* * *


Wrapped only in a lace shawl, it's actually quite cold as we walk from Cambridge Avenue where the Taxi dropped us off, to the Lowell Lecture Hall, just the other side of the Science Center, over on the corner of Oxford Street and Kirkland Street. Because it makes us look more elegant, Maria insisted that we only wear a shawl over our shoulders and it's freaking cold outside.

The Lowell Lecture Hall looks very similar to the Widener Library, except that it's not quite so big and there's no grand staircase. It does have very tall windows and very tall, white colonnades at the front. And the building has been lit up with colored lights and huge garlands. And everywhere, private security guards are patrolling the perimeter of the building.

Everywhere you look, there are young women dressed in the most amazing dresses. Some of them are far more revealing than mine and I can't help wondering if some of them were left over from the Hookers and Hoboes Hoe-down. There are a lot of guys, too. They obviously know a good thing when they see one. There's going to be a lot of disappointed 'single' women tonight. God, I hope Tess is one of them.

We join the end of a line of young women, shivering in the cold, shuffling along to enter the building. The line is moving quite quickly, for which I'm glad because I'm starting to shiver, and I think it's starting to snow at last. When we get close enough, I can see why the lines are there. Security Guards are checking the tickets. They are also checking student ID cards. In fact, two young women have just been refused entry because like us, they have Boston College ID's. They look totally humiliated.

"Maria!" I gasp.

"Don't sweat it babe," Maria winks at me. "There's never been a party yet that Maria DeLuca hasn't successfully crashed."

She handed over two tickets and the guard took our ID's. ID cards that have 'Boston College' printed in huge blue letters across the top. The guard looked at them, and then at the tickets, and handed us our cards back. Moments later, we were inside the building. I don't know how Maria managed that, but she's incredible.


"Oh," Maria turned to me and produced two masks from her bag. The one she hands me is pink, and covers my eyes and cheeks, and is held by a long, slender handle. "I told you it's a masked ball, right?"

Once inside, I can see that everyone has their face covered by some form of mask or another. Mostly, it's the traditional style, like we wore as kids when we played cops and robbers, only they're not black, but every color under the sun, held to heads and elaborate hair styles with a string of elastic. Maria thinks of everything! We look so elegant by comparison.

Lowell Lecture Hall has this huge wooden dance floor in the middle of the auditorium. Normally, banks of seats would line the walls, framing the dance floor which was used for lectures, but these had been pushed back to allow a space where tables and chairs had been laid out. There was an upper balcony running around the entire building, with more banks of seating. At one end, these seats had been pushed back to allow an elegantly dressed string quartet to ply their magic on their stringed instruments.

The walls, the railings... everywhere is festooned with garlands and decorations for the season. And it looks so classy, too. At the end opposite the quartet, right by the doorway, a huge tree sparkls with multi colored lights and bright tinsel. A pretty angel, dressed in white sits at the top of the tree. And do you know what color hair this angel had? It was like mine, the color of chocolate.

There are more women than there are men inside, which is hardly surprising. I can't help wondering if any of these guys are gay, maybe hoping... The girls stand in nervous little cliques and speculatively eye up all the men as they walk by, each one wondering if he might be Max Evans. I see so many guys who could be Max, but until I see his eyes, I won't presume anything. That's if I even get the chance to see him. There are a lot of blondes here, and an awful lot of cleavage on display.

To one side, there's a large group of older people; all of them appear to be couples. They have the look of professors and their partners. They are all discussing something, but one couple, very distinguished looking, are looking out at the gathered young adults who are mingling around the dance floor.

Maria leads me over to this refreshment area where women dressed like maids serve an assortment of fruit punches and soft drinks. She gets us both a fruit punch and we move away, while I search for Max, or more importantly, Tess.

"I'm going to see if I can find that guy I like," Maria speaks close to my ear. It's not that the music is loud, but with the combined buzz of people talking, it makes it easier to hear her. "Don't make finding Max a big issue. Let him find you."

"Maria," I start to panic. "What if I'm right and it's not me he wants?"

"Where are your wings?" she looks at my back.

I can't help smiling and she gives me a wink of encouragement.

"Be strong," she kisses my cheek.

"I'll try," I nod.

"Do or do not," she chuckles with a wink. "There is no try."

I can't help it. My smile turns into a laugh.


"What's so funny?" I hear from behind me.

It's that voice. A voice I have not heard in two weeks, and two weeks worth of feelings rush through me. I turn and face him, my breath catching in my throat. He is dressed in an amazing suit, and even though he is wearing a black mask, he still has not learned to hide his eyes. He is so handsome! That thong I'm wearing has given up and is now in hiding, completely drenched. Yes, it's so embarrassing that he does this to my body.

"Uh...," I stutter. "Nothing."

Damned traitorous vocabulary. Where have you hidden yourself this time?

"I'm glad you came," he smiles at me.

"You, uh... you are?"

He is? Why? Why would he care if I came or not? You know, I am only one person to this world. One person to him.

"Yes," he nods with a serious look in his eye. "I've missed you, Parker."

Okay. This is amazing. He recognizes me. Even though I'm wearing this mask, he knows it's me. And he's still taking the trouble to talk to me even though I have no hint of any one of the B's.

"How did you know it was me?"

"There's just something about you," he smiles. "There's this whole aura surrounding you that makes me want to know you better. And if I knew what it was then maybe this Ball might never have been necessary."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

'Cause that makes no sense to me at all.

"Would you like to dance?" he turns sideways to point himself at the dance floor which has a few couple dancing now, and offers me his arm.

"Uh, yeah," I nod, placing my arm on top of his.

Damn it! I wish I could string a coherent sentence together like Gertrude could. I wish I could trade words with him and make jokes like she could.

When Max takes me in his arms, I place one on his shoulder, and my other starts to drop, lowering my mask.

"No," he warns me, pushing my hand back up. "Not permitted, I'm afraid."

"Oh," my heart starts to fall. "Do I look that bad?"

He knows who I am. Why does it matter if my mask drops? Unless he just doesn't want to see my face.

"I don't know," he smiles at me. "Do you?"

"Huh?"

Yeah. Huh? What on earth does he mean by that?

"Never mind," he shakes his head. "You look exquisite tonight. That is such an amazing dress."

"Uh, thank you." This is getting wearisome. Me, I mean. If I don't actually start to talk properly, soon, he's going to think I'm some kind of moron.

"Do I frighten you?" he asks me in a voice that is filled with concern.

Yes, he's noticed my lack of cohesion at last. But how do I answer him? Do I tell him that he turns me into a puddle of sexually frustrated goo?

"No," I shake my head. But then I start to nod. "Yes."

Because he does. He holds such a power over me. I am his to command, if he only knew it.

"You're aware of who I am though, right?" he surprises me.

Is this guy that perceptive?

"Yes," I nod again and I can't help thinking about those damned car toys again.

"How did you find out?" he raised an eyebrow above his mask. But then he shakes his head. "No, it doesn't matter. I looked for you at the Hookers and Hobos Hoe-down the other week." His smile fell and he gave a small shrug. "I guess that wasn't your thing, huh?"

"Not really," I shake my head.

That's not a lie. It's not my thing. He didn't ask me if I went.

"I did meet someone that night," he admits, making my heart fall again. "And she reminded me of you in so many ways."

"She did?" I'm surprised.

In what way could Gertrude remind Max of me? She was everything I am not.

"Yeah," he looks me straight in the eye. Those eyes do so many things to me. And they're still sweet and sticky. "She was... Even though she was dressed up different to how I suspect she normally dresses, she was still more real than most people in this room."

"Was she pretty?" I ask.

I can't help it. Call it my masochistic tendencies coming to the fore. I had to know what he thought of her, in a perverse sort of way.

Max thinks for a bit before he answers me.

"You don't love a woman because she's beautiful," he gives me a soft smile soft. "She is beautiful because you love her."

"So..." and this is painful. Me and my big mouth. "So are you saying that you fell in love with her?"

"No," Max shook his head. "Not her. Someone else."


Okay, I want to analyze this. I want to question him and see if he has fallen in love with Tess, but he's too damned quick with his eloquence.

"So where have you been?"

Did you see that? Why can't I change the subject as easily as he can? One moment we are so deep and now we're back in the shallows. Can this guy swim through a conversation or what?

"They said at the library that you were taking an early holiday and wouldn't be back at your job until the New Year."

"Oh," I shake my head. "No, no. You see, I qui..."

"No," Max silences me by placing a finger on my lips. I have this overwhelming urge to kiss that finger. "They said you would be back in the New Year."

He is looking at me intently and nodding his head. I can't help it and nod with him. I understand now, that Max is telling me that the job is still mine, if I want it.


The piece of music we were dancing to stops, and I feel someone standing beside me. Max's face does not look as bright as it was a moment ago. I turn to face the newcomer, and even though she has an ornate lace mask, I know in an instant that it's Tess. The panic is rising inside me and I so want to run away right now.

"Well," I manage to speak. "If you will excuse me..."

I need to get away from Tess before she does something to humiliate me, and in this dress, it would be so easy for her to do that. And then Max would realize how mistaken he was to spend any time with me.

"No," Max takes my hand. "Stay a moment, please."


"You're Max Evans," Tess informs him while she's sizing me up, and I realize that for the moment, she does not recognize me.

I can almost see him rolling his eyes.

"Yes," Max nods. "I know."

"Oh," Tess is clearly surprised by his reaction. I have no idea how she expected Max to react, but I think drooling over her was involved. And yet, he just seems so... unconcerned. "Well, I'm Tess. Tess Harding."

"Hello, Tess," he shakes her hand as though he's meeting someone on some kind of political jumket. He only takes her fingers, and lets go quite quickly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sure you will get the chance to dance with me after the unmasking. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Wait..." she barks, grabbing his as he's turning. "Is that it?"

"Is what it?" Max is frowning at her.

"I thought..." she seems to have lost the towering self-confidence I am normally used to seeing. She looks just like any other girl now. "I mean, I know that you're Max Evans."

"I see," Max nods. "And did you think it was some kind of competition? Do you think knowing who I am gives you some kind of advantage? Like the first person who discovers my identity... what? Wins my hand or something?"

"No..." Tess shakes her head. "I thought... I thought..."

"I'm sorry, Miss Harding," Max does not seem fazed at all. "This isn't like the ball in Cinderella, and I'm not Prince Charming looking for a wife. All this ball is for is to introduce me publicly, so that no one has to charge around trying to discover my identity, disrupting other student's studies. I should have come here publicly in the first place, but we thought we could handle it. We were wrong and we seem to have generated all kinds of unwanted publicity. Now if you'll excuse me. I have to go and endure the public unmasking. Ladies."


Before he leaves, Max takes my hand and kisses the back of it. I can't help watching with my jaw on the floor as he heads for the staircase, and the stage where there is a small crowd gathering. Tess is glaring daggers at me but ask me if I care. You know what? She no longer frightens me.


* * *


Well, the unmasking was not much of an event. Philip Evans and his wife, Diane, thanked everyone for coming and apologized to the faculty and student body for the disruption his family had caused. Oh, they were the distinguished couple that had been watching the dancers, earlier. I guess they were watching who Max was dancing with. Anyway, then Max stands at the front, and introduces himself, and takes off his mask. Yes, everyone, except me, gasped. For me, it was like someone had switched on some lights and I so wanted to go "Ooooo" like I did when they turned on the lights on the common.

And then, it was the moment that every girl who came was hoping for. The quartet started an upbeat number, and the girls form a line. A very long line. Tess and two of her friends just pushed in near the front, clearly annoying many of the girls behind her. Max took the girl at the head of the line, he said something to her, she replied, and they danced once around the dance floor, before he returned to the head of the line and repeated this with the next young lady. And then the next, and the next. I looked at the length of the line and decided that it was too much bother just for a few seconds with Max. How he could decide who was real and who was fake in those few seconds, I just don't know. I went to find some refreshments instead.


* * *


"You!"

I think Tess is trying to sound like that vixen I heard that time, but it sounds like a petulant whine, now. I guess she recognized me after all. Of course, we have all dropped our masks now.

"Me," I nod at her. "How perceptive of you."

I know, I know. Where did that come from? I know that my Dad is watching over me, just like my Mom is. And neither of them will let anything bad happen to me. And like I said earlier, Tess does not frighten me anymore. I mean, come on! What could she possibly do to me here? Actually, what could she possibly do to me anywhere? I'm a big girl now and it's time I stood up for myself. Who would have thought that this back-less dress came with a backbone?

"I told you not to show your face here," she snarls.

"Yes," I nod with no concern at all. "You did."

"You have to the count of ten to make yourself scarce, or I'm going to ..."

"What, Tess?" I shake my head. "You're going to rip my dress off? In front of all these people? I don't know the full ins and outs of law, but I believe that can be still construed as a sexual assault, even if we are of the same gender. And I somehow don't think Harvard wants to associate itself with sexually deviant students."

"Why, you little..." her hands are clenched, and I brace myself to act in self-defense.

"Is everything okay here?" Michael suddenly appears.

"Hi, Michael," I nod. "Everything is fine. Right Tess?"

She glares daggers at me once more and turning on her heel, she storms off with dark clouds above her head. Michael watches her leave and I notice that his eyes are very dark. But when he turns to look at me, that darkness has vanished.

"Having fun?" he asks.

"Yeah," I nod. "Uh, I'll stay away from the coffee."

"You do that, he chuckles as he turns away. "You do that."


* * *


"There you are," that voice melts me again.

I can't help wondering why he has sought me out. It's not like I'm anywhere public, so he clearly had to hunt for me. Or maybe he has to do that dance with everyone and I'm the only one left. He looks out of breath, and his forehead is lined with beads of perspiration.

"Did you enjoy that?" I can't help smiling.

"Not really," he shakes his head. "I noticed you didn't join the line."

"I had my dance, earlier," I shrug.

And it was so much better than a quickstep once around the floor.

"Are you done already?" I wonder. "'Cause that line looked pretty big."

"This is a refreshment break," he shrugs. "I have a few more to dance with."

"Right," I give him a smile.

"So, uh, Parker?" he sounds suddenly nervous. This guy is so complex. How can the only person who has ever blanked out Tess Harding suddenly be so nervous around me? "How's your, uh... boyfriend? Didn't he come tonight?"

Okay, that one caught me by surprise. Huh?

"Boyfriend?" I can't help blinking. "I don't have a boyfriend."

I can't help noticing that many people are looking at me now. And they are giving me what I can only describe as very peculiar looks. If I didn't know better, I would think they might actually be jealous. Hey, he's only talking to me. I bet he's talked with everyone else already.

"The guy I saw you with, those times. Tall, thin... gave me the death ray eyes every time I dared speak to you."

"Oh," I can't help smiling. "He's not my boyfriend, Max. That's Alex. He's the best friend of my best friend."

"Really?" his smile has returned and it seems even brighter than before. "So you don't have a boyfriend?"

Didn't I just say that? But I just nod in confirmation.


And then, do you know what he says to me?

"Other men say they have seen angels, but I have seen you, and to me, that's enough."

So where did that come from?

"You have quite a way with words," I shake my head.

I wish I were like him. His vocabulary clearly does not betray him.

"Well," he shrugs. "I do minor in English Lit."

"Really?" I exclaim. "Me too!"

Wow! Is this a coincidence or what?


"That's great," he smiles, his hand touching my bare shoulder, but in a nice way. A really 'nice' way. "We have something in common." And then he takes a deep breath, and I just know we are going to get deep again. I can almost sense the rejection coming. He's about to tell me how we can be friends. "You know, I started this whole masquerade to try and find someone real, someone who would like me for, well, me. Not the perceived image of me. I wanted to find someone who was genuine. Blonde hair, blue eyes and big boobs... they are all a dime a dozen, Parker. Anyone can have them. Wigs, implants and contact lenses... presto. A bona fide babe. Totally fake. But real people... personalities, opinions... you can't get them from any store."

"You knew that was me?"

Do I sound mortified? Color me that way. Because it dawns on me that he's known all along that I was Dirty Gerty.

"Not at the time," he shakes his head. "Only later, when I replayed that night in my head. Then I remembered what you said, when you tripped."

"The post card thing," I nod. "I thought I got away with that, you know, because of my uh... wardrobe malfunction."

"You nearly did," he nods his head with a dry smile. "I hope I didn't make you feel too uncomfortable when that happened. I tried not to look, but... Sorry."

"I'll get over it," I nod.

"I have a confession," he takes this deep breath. "I've have been attracted to you since that first day I stumbled into Widener Library and saw you putting those books on the shelf. But I never had the courage to speak to you. Properly, I mean. I always seemed to get so... tongue-tied. I never even plucked up the courage to ask you your first name. And Maria wouldn't tell me. She said I had to ask you myself."

Whoa! Information overload. Attracted to me? Since he first saw me? Wait, wait! Back up! Back up! What did he say?

"Maria?" I frown. "How do you know Maria?"

"She's been dating Michael for the past week," he shrugs.

Huh? Okay, now color me confused.


"It seems they hooked up at the Hoe-down but she ran out on him," he seems to sense my bewilderment. "We tried to find you. Both of you. Naturally, I checked the library first. When we found out that you... were on holiday from the library, we spent the next week going to every branch of Denny's in the Boston area trying to find you, 'cause Michael remembered you told him you worked there and owed him a free coffee. We wanted to find you so that he could get Maria's number and so that I could talk to you again. We finally went in to the one at Boston College and we found Maria sitting in there."

"So..." I might be slow on the uptake sometimes, but the gears and cogs are really spinning right now. "So Maria knew that you... this Ball... and..."

"We've been set up, yes," he nods. "Rather, 'you' have been sat up. Do you mind?"

"Uh, no," I shake my head. "No, I guess not."

"So, uh..." he pinches his ear again. Did I tell you how cute that idiosyncrasy is? "Can you tell me your first name, please?"

It's so bizarre that I want to laugh. Of course, I don't laugh, because this moment is just too serious to me. Not one of my fantasies was ever like this and me laughing out loud might spoil the moment.

"It's Liz. I'm Liz. Elizabeth. But call me Liz."

Okay, stop your babbling.

"Liz," he says the word like he's tasting it, like a fine wine. "I like it," he smiles. I think he also might be blushing. "And I like you, Liz Parker. And... and I would really, really like to ask you out on a date. But before I ask you, I have to warn you that if you date me, then your life will change. You'll become a target for the papparazzi. They'll take pictures of you every day. When you spend any money on new clothes, they will get pictures of you coming out of the store. When you are at work, they will take pictures of you putting books away. They'll take pictures of you when you are looking your best, and when you're looking your worst. You're life will change, Liz. It will be like living in a goldfish bowl. If you can't handle that... if you don't 'want' to handle that, then tell me right now and I won't embarrass either one of us by making you say no."

He wants to ask me out on a date? Me? Where has all the air gone? Why is the room spinning? Or is this all some huge practical joke that Tess has set up to totally humiliate me? Any moment now, someone will appear from behind a pillar and start to laugh at me. I remember my dad once told me that if something was too good to be true, it usually was.

"So..." he continues with a deep breath. "I'm going to finish this dancing thing, okay? Say hello to the rest of these charming young ladies and break their hearts... or rather their dreams for a life of ease and luxury by not giving them the time of day. Perhaps you can find Maria and talk to her about this, if you need to talk to someone. I'm sure she won't mind a short break from Michael seeing as they have been spending so much time fighting with each other." He started laughing at that, which makes we wonder what he means. His face softens and for a moment I see a hint of vulnerability. "And then when I come back, you can either break, or make my heart."

And then he's gone and I can't believe how alone it makes me feel.


* * *


I can see Maria, making out with Michael in the far corner. She looks so happy, I don't have the nerve to interrupt her. I mean, she lost a whole week with this guy because of me.

And how about me? I lost a whole two weeks with Max. He wants to date me! I deserve to be happy, too, don't I? And Max has made it plain enough that he wants to be happy with me. Can I live in the spotlight after living in the shadows for so long? I can try, I guess.

"Do or do not. There is no try."

Well, what's a shadow except the absence of light? Maybe letting the light in wouldn't be so bad. So what if I don't have the three B's that most guys want? I don't need them. Max has already told me he doesn't want them. And I am as far from blonde, blue eyed and buxom as you can get! And I know I like him. My body is still on fire and if he wanted to, he could take me, here on the dance floor in front of all these people! I wouldn't stop him. Because, let's face it. I'm in totally in love with him. I love him.


"Well?" his voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"I love you."

Oh my God! Did I just say that out loud? Did I just blow it? Is this silence from him a good thing?

"You do?" he is blinking with astonishment.

I can only nod dumbly. What a time for my vocabulary to turn up.

"Well," he gives me an easy smile that seems filled with relief. He cups my cheek in the palm of his hand. "That's good, 'cause I've been in love with you for months. I love you, and those three words have my life in them."

Okay, I know this. I do Lit too, remember?

"Alexandrea said that to Nicholas the Third," I laugh, loving that he can quote these things to me.

"True," Max nods. "So does that mean you want to date me?"

"Yes, Max. I do." Boy, do I? "But you don't know anything about me."

"Isn't that what dating is all about?" his smile is teasing me.

"Max, I'm not a socialite," I admit. Let's get everything in the open. The last thing I want is for him to think I am something I am not. "I don't come from money. In fact... I'm practically a pauper."

"Do you think that changes who you are?"

"No, but..."

"I fell in love with you, Liz. Not your money, or lack of it. I fell in love with you before I knew anything about you. And you're making me work pretty hard here, so I can tell that you're not interested in me for my money alone."

"But, Max," I sigh. "It's going to be mentioned every time any one talks about us."

"Which I hope will be for a long time," he grins. "If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus a day so I don't have to live a day without you."

"No," I shake my head. I can't remember where that one comes from. "Shelly? Keats? Shakespeare?"

"No," Max laughs, shaking his head. "Winnie the Pooh."

"Oh, god," I roll my eyes. "Is this how things are going to be with us? Throwing other peoples quotes about love at each other?"

"No," he chuckles. "How about we come up with quotes of our own? How about..."

And then he leans down and places the softest kiss on my lips. And it feels so... wonderful. I can't hardly wait for him to smudge my lipstick.

"You have such a way with words," I tell him breathlessly.


"She's got nothing, you know," Tess's voice breaks our mood.

Why did I just know that she would not give up that easily?

"She's only after your money, 'cause she doesn't have any herself."

"You mean that you are different?" Max takes my hand and raises an eyebrow at Tess.

"Yes," she nods her head, trying to look offended. "Of course I am. I'm not even like her."

"I see," he nods. "Well, tell me, Miss Harding. Would you say that any girl who discovered that I was Max Evans and then ran away to hide from me sounds like she is after my money?"

"Huh?" Tess blinks.

"Liz," he indicates me. "She discovered who I was a few weeks ago... by accident. Before you did, actually. And as soon as she did, she ran away from me."

"So you're going to date someone who doesn't even like you?" her jaw drops.

Huh? She thinks I don't like him? I am on fire, wanting more than a kiss with a man who has only kissed me once, and she thinks I don't like him?

"Well, if I ever manage to win her over," he smiles at her, "at least I will know that she didn't fall in love with me for my money."

"But..." she does not know when to give up.

"If you will excuse us, Miss Harding," Max smiles. I love it how he calls her Miss Harding, like she means nothing to him. "They're playing our song."

The String Quartet is playing the music to "The Scientist" by Coldplay. I like it, but it's hardly my favorite. And I fail to see how we are connected to it. I can't help raising an eyebrow as we dance.

"This is our song?"

"Anything that we can dance together to is our song, Liz. Anything, as long as I can hold you in my arms."

And as he pulls me into his body, I know my Mom is smiling down on me because I have someone who loves me, and I know my Dad is happy 'cause I have someone who will protect me.


* * *




"What are your plans for Christmas?" his voice, so close to my ear, just melts through me.

"Uh... uhm..." Okay. How do I answer this? Honestly, I guess. "I don't really have any plans. You see, I don't have any family, Max."

"Yes you do, Liz" he nods. "There's me, for a start. And my Mom and Dad, Michael and Maria. And as all of them will be at my house for Christmas Day, you would be more than welcome to join us. At least, Michael is asking Maria to join us so I guess she'll only come if you do."

"But what about Alex?"

The guy's a sweetheart and I doubt if Maria would want to leave him on his own. I know that I don't.

"Where is he now?" he asks.

"Back at our place, watching Star Wars DVDs," I can't help wishing I could make him sound less of a geek than that. But Max doesn't even blink.

"I don't want to sound forward, Liz," he looks at me so I can see the honesty in his eyes. "Would you like to stay overnight at our house? You would have your own bedroom."

I wonder how he would react if I tell him I would prefer to share his?

"I would love to," I nod instead.


Pausing from our dance, Max takes out a cell phone from his jacket and presses a single button.

"Hi, Denise," he speaks into the phone. "Liz will be staying a few nights."

A few? He only asked about tonight. But who cares? I will stay with him as long as he will let me.

"Can you run out to her flat and pick up whatever clothes and toiletries you think she and Maria will need. Oh, and there's a guy called Alex there. Can you explain to him what's going on, extend the invitation to him, and then take him to his place to get his things. Thanks."

Max hangs up and smiles at me again.

"Sorted," he states. "And I uh... only said a couple of days just in case. Please don't think you have to stay or anything."

I think I already covered that.

"I'll stay as long as you let me, Max." I take his hand and pull him close. "Where were we?"

Max dips his face down to mine, and as our lips brush, I know that I am finally going to get my lipstick smudged. And I will be spending the night in his house. I bet he will offer me my own room, but you know what? I just know that Maria has brought those condoms. And even though I just discovered they have been watching over me all of this time, tonight, I hope my Mom and Dad look the other way for a while.


* * *


I'm Liz Parker. I have just found out that it doesn't matter how you calculate things, no one is a zero. And although I may only be one person to the world, I know that I have been the world to one person for such a long time. Oh, and guess what? I totally love Christmas.

Have a good one, everyone! I know I will.


* * *

True love doesn't have a happy ending:
True love doesn't have an ending.
~ by Anonymous ~





I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a Happy and Prosperous New Year!

Wayne