Jay Asher - What Light

Oh, I’ve been anticipating a lot with this boy. “I’m watching you,” I say to Caleb.

“Figure out something to do until dinner,” his mom says.

Caleb looks at his sister. “Apparently I’m supposed to disappear this afternoon. What should we do, Abby-girl?”

“Figure it out now or later,” their mom says, “but I’m going inside. I don’t want to sit in the balcony like last time.” She gives me a hug and then walks inside the church.

Abby tells Caleb to get me a flyer for the candlelight Christmas Eve service. She says, “You should definitely come with us. It’s so beautiful.”

Caleb asks me to wait right here, and I watch him jog toward the glass doors.

Abby looks me directly in the eyes. “My brother likes you,” she says quickly. “Like, really likes you.”

My entire body tingles.

“I know you’re not here much longer,” she continues, “so I wanted you to know that in case he’s being a total guy with his feelings.”

I don’t know how to respond, and Abby laughs at my silence.

Caleb walks out holding a red flyer. He offers it to me but it takes a moment to stop staring at his eyes. On the printed side is a drawing of a lit candle surrounded by a wreath and information about the service.

“Time to go in,” Abby says. She loops her arm through Caleb’s and then the two of them head inside.

Yes, I say to myself, I like your brother, too. Like, really like him.

Monday morning, I call Elizabeth to ask how Rachel’s show went.

“She did fine,” Elizabeth says. “You should really be asking her, though.”

“I tried!” I say. “I called; I texted. You guys are giving me the cold shoulder.”

“Because you chose a guy over her, Sierra. We get that you like him. Great. But honestly, you’re not going to be down there forever,” she says. “So yes, Rachel’s upset with you. But she also doesn’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

I close my eyes as I listen. Even when they’re mad at me, they still care. I groan, flopping onto my tiny bed. “It’s ridiculous. It is. It’s a relationship that can’t go anywhere. We haven’t even kissed yet!”

“Sierra, it’s Christmastime. Put a stupid mistletoe over his head and kiss him already!”

“Will you do me a favor?” I ask. “Can you stop by my house? On my dresser is the cutting from my first Christmas tree. Will you mail that to me?”

Elizabeth sighs.

“I just want to show it to him,” I say. “He’s such a traditionalist, I think he’d love to see it before I…”

I stop myself. If I say it, I’ll obsess over it for the rest of the day.

“Before you leave,” Elizabeth finishes. “It’s going to happen, Sierra.”

“I know. Feel free to tell me I’m being stupid.”

She doesn’t respond for a long time. “It’s your heart. No one else gets a say in that.”

Sometimes it feels like it’s not even up to the person holding the heart.

“You should probably kiss him, though, before you make any bigger decisions,” she says. “If he’s horrible, it’ll be so much easier to let him go.”

I laugh. “I miss you both so much.”

“We miss you, too, Sierra. We both do. I’ll try to smooth things over with Rachel. She’s just frustrated.”

I fall back onto my bed. “I’m a traitor to the girl code.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Elizabeth says. “It’s fine. We’re just being selfish about sharing you, is all.”

Before starting work, I sit at my laptop and video-record myself describing—in French—everything that’s happened since I left home, from planting my tree on Cardinals Peak to walking Caleb to church. I send the video to Monsieur Cappeau to make up for all the phone calls I’ve missed.

I grab an apple and head to the Bigtop to help Mom. It’s winter break for most of the schools now, and because the tree procrastinators are running out of time, the lot should be busy all day. In previous years I worked ten-hour days this week, but Mom tells me they hired a few extra students to help so I’d have more time for myself.

Working side by side with her, we restock supplies when not helping customers. Dad wheels in two more trees sprayed with fake snow. In a break between customers, all three of us huddle around the drink station. I mix myself a cheap peppermint mocha and tell them I’m making more cookies to go with Caleb’s next few trees.

“That’s great, honey,” Dad says, but instead of looking at me, he looks outside the Bigtop. “I need to go check on the workers.”

Mom and I watch him leave.

“I guess that’s better than putting his foot down,” I say. Dad has taken the wait-it-out approach to my relationship with Caleb. On the upside, after witnessing my confrontation with Andrew, Dad asked him to apologize to me. Rather than do that, he quit.

Mom clinks her mug against mine. “Maybe Caleb will save some of his tips and buy a Christmas gift for you, too.”

When Mom sips her coffee, I tell her, “I’m thinking about giving him the cutting from my first tree.”

Her silence is deafening, so I raise my Easter mug to my lips as I wait. Outside the Bigtop, I see Luis carry a tree out to the car lot. I take another sip, wondering why he’s here if he already has a tree.

When I look back, Mom says, “That’s a perfect gift for someone like Caleb.”

I put down my mug and hug her while she tries to keep from spilling her drink on us. “Thank you for not being weird about him, Mom.”

“I trust your judgment.” She puts down her mug and holds my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. “Your father does, too. I think he just decided to hold his breath until we leave again.”

Over her shoulder, I see Luis walk back into the lot with work gloves on. I point him out to Mom. “That’s Luis,” I say. “I know him.”

“He’s one of the students we hired. Your dad said he’s a good worker.”

At the next break between customers, I warm up the mocha with some regular coffee. A voice behind me says, “Want to make me one while you’re at it?”

“That depends.” I turn toward Caleb. “What are you going to do for me?”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and draws out a green knit Christmas tree hat with felt ornaments and a puffy yellow star. He pulls it tight onto his head. “I was going to save this for later, but if a mocha’s at stake, I’ll put it on now.”

“Why?” I ask, laughing.

“I bought it at a secondhand store this morning,” he says. “I’m in the full sartorial spirit of the season.”

My mouth drops open. “I don’t even know what that means.”

He dimple-grins and raises one eyebrow. “Sartorial? I’m shocked. Maybe you should put a vocab app on your phone like me. There’s a new word every day and you give yourself points each time you use it.”

“But did you use it correctly?” I ask.

“I think so,” he says. “It’s an adjective. Something about clothing.”

I shake my head, wanting to both laugh and snatch that horrible thing off him. “Mister, sartorial just earned you double candy canes.”

Caleb offers to help bake the cookies at his house, and Mom tells us to go have fun. Actually, she says I should go have fun without asking Dad, which is motherly advice I’ll take.

“Abby says she would love to join us,” Caleb says when we get in his truck. “You can invite Heather, too.”

“Heather, believe it or not, is frantically putting together a gift for Devon,” I say. “My guess is it’ll be a Christmas sweater.”

Caleb opens his mouth in mock-horror. “Would she do that?”

“She totally would,” I say. “She’ll also get him something good, but if I know Heather, she’ll give him the sweater first to see how he reacts.”

After we shop for ingredients, Caleb ushers me into his house, each of us carrying a bag of groceries. Abby is on the couch tapping rapidly on her phone.

Without looking up, she says, “I’ll join you in a minute. I have to make sure my friends don’t think I fell off the earth. And take off that ridiculous hat, Caleb.”

Caleb sets his knit hat on the kitchen table. He’s already set out cookie sheets, measuring spoons, cups, and a ceramic mixing bowl. “Will you send me messages like that from Oregon,” he says, “so I know you haven’t fallen off the earth?”

My laugh comes out sounding forced, which it is. In less than a week I need to figure out how to say goodbye.

I pull items from the grocery bags and set them on the counter.