Page 48 - The Muse 2019-20 Issue

A Holly Jolly Christmas
by Jay Calvoz
8th Grade
Blue Ribbon
A woman named Mary hung the last of her decorations around the house while a catering company finished setting tables. She walked over to the fireplace and started it. Then, she went outside and confirmed that the men she had hired were shoveling snow.
Next door, Mary saw that kids were playing, throwing snowballs and making snowmen. A frown formed on her face. Quickly, she walked back inside.
As she did, she heard the oven timer beeping, and she ran to the kitchen.
“Shoot! The gingerbread cookies!” She opened the oven, quickly grabbed mitts, and removed the two trays, setting them on the counter. She took a bite out of one cookie and sighed in relief.
Mary looked down at the cookies, and tears welled in her eyes. Gingerbread cookies had always been Georgia’s favorite cookies. After all, Christmas was her favorite time of year.
An hour later, the house was full of guests.
The doorbell rang.
“Hello, Mary!” a woman said as she entered a house that was overflowing with Christmas
decorations.
“Hello, Samantha! Glad you could make it,” Mary responded. Music was playing and people
were talking. The Christmas tree stood tall covered with ornaments and vividly colored tinsel.
“Excuse me, Ms. May,” a teenage voice behind Samantha said. “Where is Georgia?”
“She’s up the stairs and to the right, Syndey,” Mary replied. The young girl slowly walked up the
stairs with a Christmasy bag in her hands.
The two women watched Syndey go.
“Oh, Mary. How is sweet Georgia doing?” Samantha asked, her voice turned all syrupy.
Mary shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s hard. The doctors say her chances are...”
Mary stifled a sob. Samantha reached out and enveloped the tearful woman in a big hug.
At the top of the stairs, Syndey turned right and came to a closed door at the end of the hallway.
She took a deep breath in, exhaled, and then knocked on the door.
“Hello? Georgia?” Syndey asked.
A weak voice replied, “Come in.”
Syndey entered the bedroom. The shades were drawn. It was dark but for the light given off by a
small lamp in the right corner. The center of the room was occupied by a large bed. In it lay Georgia. Syndey could see that she had lost most of her hair. Just a few wisps remained. The room smelled of medicine and sweat.
“Hi, Georgia,” Syndey said tentatively. She felt like she was going to gag. Her throat was dry. “Hi,” Georgia replied. “It’s okay. Come closer.”
Sydney reluctantly took two steps forward, then stopped, shifting her weight from one foot to the
other.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, completely failing at sounding cheerful.
“Ho. Ho. Ho,” replied Georgia ironically.
Syndey laughed nervously, then cleared her throat, and stammered, “I... I just wanted to come
by... and... you know... say sorry... not that your sick... I mean, I’m sorry that you’re sick, of course... but, I wanted to say sorry.... for what I did... for how I was... how I treated you, in the past, during middle school... like when... like that time I cut a chunk of your hair in the middle of science...” Syndey looked at Georgia’s raw scalp and felt like she wanted to run away.
“It’s okay,” Georgia said. She looked down at her hands, then furtively glanced at the left corner of the room, and added, “Everybody makes mistakes.”
As Sydney looked at the left corner, she heard someone, an older voice say, “So, this is the one?”
Syndey peered into the dark corner, and now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see someone sitting there. Maybe a nurse?
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