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Mom shook me awake on Thansgiving morning, not bothering to turn on the light in my bedroom, as bright sunlight was already streaming through both of my windows.

"Goodness, Kirby, how could you sleep so late? It's Thanksgiving morning!"

"Hi, Mom," I muttered. "What is it?"

"Someone's here to see you...go on, get up, I'll tell them to wait for you."

"Huh?" A visitor? On Thanksgiving morning? I never even got visitors during normal days. I pulled on jeans instead of my pajama pants, leaving my knee-length, XXL sweatshirt on for warmth (I was drowning in it; it felt nice,) pulling a brush through my hair and brushing my teeth before stepping into the living room.

"Oh, crap," I muttered.

Mom really should have mentioned that my mysterious visitor was a guy. The guy, I might add.

"Morning, Kirby," Evan said as he turned around. Then he frowned. "Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Shoulda been up hours ago," I muttered in response. "It's Thanksgiving morning, Evan, what're you over here for?"

"Technically, it's afternoon now," he pointed out. "It's past noon."

"Don't you have some turkey to eat?" I demanded sleepily, slightly annoyed and very much embarrassed by my flyaway hair (thank goodness it was pulled back) and overwhelming urge to yawn.

"Not really," he answered, avoiding my eyes. Suddenly, understanding pierced through my sleepy haze, and it clicked.

"Okay," I said. "It's fine...Happy Thanksgiving..."

"Yeah, you too."

"Do you wanna..." I cast around for something to do. "I don't know...go visit Tara or something?"

"I did, this morning. They made me go home, but I didn't want to, so..."

"I got it," I said victoriously, my voice sounding vague. "You can come to Thanksgiving dinner with us--yes, you are," I said hastily, before he could protest. "This is what you get for waking me up."

He opened his mouth to rebel, closed it again, and gave me a small smile. I grinned.

"Mom!" I called, drifting off to find her. "Mom, can Evan come to Mimi's with us?"

"No," she said immediately.

"Why not?" I demanded angrily, folding my arms and leaning against the laundry room door.

"Because it's Thanksgiving, Kirby. Everyone has family to go see..."

"Not him!" I objected. "Please, Mom, he wants to...."

She gave me an odd look. "What do you mean, 'not him'?"

"I'll explain later...please?"

She thought about it for an agonizing moment, then nodded slowly. "We're leaving in a minute, get ready."

"Thanks!"

I shot to my room, exchanging my sweatshirt for a turtleneck and a long button-up shirt over it, pulling on socks and snatching my Converses as I dashed into the living room.

"Into the car with you," I ordered Evan. He nodded, a faint crease between his eyebrows; I wondered if he had overheard the conversation between Mom and me. Nevertheless, he said nothing as he slid into the backseat beside my sister and me. She raised her eyebrows at me, but I didn't elaborate, and she digressed.

"Got to warn you," I muttered to Evan. "We're the oldest cousins on this side of the family, the rest of them are like, three--no, four-- and seven and ten, it's going to be total hell."

"That's okay."

"Just...erm...be...you-ish. They're all nice, they'll love you."

He nodded, and he couldn't help but smile at my very strange adjectives as I pulled on my shoes.

"Hey, Kirby," he said suddenly, his eyes focused straight ahead.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell them."

For a second, I was confused...but then I understood. I nodded. "Of course not."

My sweet, adorable Mimi lived in a remote sort of neighborhood, in a small house with a lot of trees that nevertheless had once had room for nine people. Really, old people amazed me sometimes. Most impressive of all was the half-acre plot and five-room house in which my late grandmother, Dad's mom, had raised ten kids. seven of them boys.

We never knocked; we always just barged in with a cheerful hello and were met by welcoming cries from all my smallish cousins. There were the M&M's--Matthew, Miranda, Madilyne, the former twelve and the latter twins of around eleven, and Codi and Connor, six and four, brothers who looked sweet thanks to their half-Japanese dad (no relation) but inside were...well...my cousins. I'm proud to say that all of these cousins, at least, looked or acted (or in some cases, both) exactly like me. I immediately fell into five tight hugs; Evan, I noticed, hung back, as if to avoid the curious glances of my family.

"Kirby!" an aunt called, hugging me fondly. "Good to see you! And who's this?"

"This is Evan," I said loudly, so I wouldn't have to repeat myself. "He's a friend of mine."

"Oh," she replied curiously, looking him over. "How are you?"

"Pretty good," he answered shyly.

"And you didn't want to go with your family this year, huh?"

Damn it, I thought, biting my lip as Evan turned his eyes downward. Thankfully--and I love them forever for this--Codi and the twins pulled him out of my aunt's scrutinizing gaze to play with them, all five immediately accepting him and bombarding him with demands and questions and showing him whatever they had brought from their homes in Houston.

Thanks, guys, I said silently, sitting on the arm of a couch. "Evan's mom and dad went on vacation somewhere, but he wanted to stay behind and watch his sister--it was Las Vegas or something and she couldn't go--so they went and he stayed with a friend of his sister's, but I brought him with me so he wouldn't miss out. Is that okay?"

Everyoe within earshot over the age of 18 nodded and smiled, and I could tell that they liked him. Satisfied, I dove into the mass of cousins, staving them off of Evan until Mimi called in her sweet voice that it was time for lunch.

Ah, grandmothers. How do they cook so well? It must be some lost art. There was plenty for me to eat besides the turkey, ham, and stuffing; mashed potatoes, cranberries, fresh bread, broccoli and cheese, sweet potato pie, corn pudding...the list went on, most of it homemade and all of it delicious. It was passed in a continuous circle around the larger table along with bottles of Coke and Dr. Pepper, and I took a bit of everything and poured cheese and gravy over it, laughing at my uncle's jokes and jibes and joining in on their conversations. Normally, I would be sitting with my cousins at the kid's table...well, I'd make it up to them at Christmas.

So, there it was. Lunch was great, and Evan was accepted seamlessly as one of the family; my godfather teased him good-naturedly, my Papa lectured him on computers like he did everyone, and after we were done, we both helped to serve the smaller cousins and later, pecan and pumpkin pie. (I made him eat some on the pretext that he was too skinny; he shrugged and agreed, and I knew he didn't regret it.)

All in all, a very satisfying lunch.

And nothing stopped there.

While the adults sat around and drank coffee and Diet Coke, the grandkids (and Evan) tumbled outside and raced each other around the yard, Matt and I climbing to the utmost peak of the old magnolia tree, Codi, Connor, and the twins playing hide and seek. I lost track of Evan; I think he just sat on the lowest branch and watched the whole time, though when I came down, he was helping Connor pluck a dead bamboo pole frommy Mimi's harvest of them. He waved it around like a sword--wisely, Evan had broken it off to about two feet in length--and challenged his brother to swordfights, all of which had no victor.

It was a lot of wild, meaningless fun. Only when I nearly fell asleep in the middle of a duel with Codi did I stop, choosing to watch them from the porch swing. After a minute or two, Evan flopped beside me, out of breath.

"Got a lot of energy, huh?" he said.

"This is what you get for waking me up," I replied, sticking my nose in the air in mock aloofness.

"I thought you'd be awake around noon," he explained. "Sorry, I didn't know you slept so late..."

"I don't. We got back from our trip yesterday, and I was tired, so I guess I slept for...erm...eighteen hours."

"Wow, tiring trip."

"Yeah..."

"Listen, Kirby..." He struggled with the words for a moment. "Thanks," he said simply at long last.

"No problem." I shrugged off the thanks awkwardly.

"No, really. I mean it."

"Yeah..." I felt my cheeks growing hot again, and hastily cast around for a different subject. "Hey, um, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Well...how did you end up with that foster family?"

His expression darkened at once, and he looked away. "Bad luck."

"But why don't they like you?"

"I don't care."

"And what about your other family? Don't you have any aunts or uncles? Grandparents at least!"

"No."

His abrupt answers disturbed me, and I stopped. I sighed softly, aware that I had probably ruined everything. Again.

"They thought they would like me," he said suddenly, in a low voice. "I don't know why, I guess it's because they heard I was older and could take care of myself. They didn't want Tara, I think they thought it didn't matter anyway, they didn't think she'd come out of the coma so soon, and as long as they didn't sign for her or whatever the hospital bill went to someone else. One way or another, my parent's money went into that--I don't care, it's fine.

"But now Tara's getting better...and they decided that they don't like me at all. I don't talk to them, go near them, or even eat with them if I can help it. They don't get it; I don't think anyone told them that my parents had died recently, they just knew I was free or whatever they call it. I've gotten into fights with them once or twice...I can't help it. It's not really about anything...they keep holding it over my head that they're going to send me to someone else's house, and I wouldn't care if that wouldn't mess everything up with money and custody and all of that crap." I had never heard him sound so bitter.

"And I don't have any family at all, really. My mom's sister lives in Europe, and she's really young, 20 or something, and my dad is...was an only child. I don't know about grandparents...they either live in Canada or something or they're dead. We never heard from anyone else...I have no idea who our guardian was supposed to be. All I know is that Mom and Dad wanted me to go here--it's a really good school, but it was too far away--and they need me to take care of Tara. I'm not sure how, but that's what everything's come to."

I was silent for a long time, digesting this speech with an incredible, aching sadness. His life was so different from mine, and so much more complicated...and yet, to him it was so simple. I don't think I really understood, but I tried my best to.

"What was it like?" I asked after a pause. "Keatonville, I mean."

His eyes lit up. "It was a really small town, you know, but it was pretty cool...everyone knew each other, and we all walked everywhere, so there wasn't any trouble with cars or buses or anything, and everything sort of stopped at night...you could actually see the stars." I was reminded vividly of my sojourn to the wilderness just the night before last. "And there were only fourty or fifty people in my class, and I was friends with them all, and we would all just walk around on afternoons, play soccer or something or just sit around in the park. And Khana..."

He froze, deliberating for a long, painful second before continuing in a slightly choked voice. "Khana was more like my best friend than anything...I mean, I loved her...and I kissed her, and everything...I could talk to her about anything, and she and I would just sit and not say anything and we would still be fine...there wasn't anything to do, you know, except movies sometimes and going for ice cream, but everything just seemed so...content...not perfect, but just okay...Damn, I miss it."



We hauled a** out of there as soon as we could to escape the torrent of energetic family members, grabbing some leftovers, hugging everyone in sight, and diving into the car. Really, family is family, but this could be considered "tough love"--thank you, Connor, for the bruises. Love you, kid.

Evan obviously still didn't want to go home--I didn't want him to either--so to entertain myself more than anyone, I tossed him a Gamecube controller, plugged in Majora's Mask (Collector's Edition of course), and sat back to watch. This was a favorite pastime of mine; not a single one of my friends could handle the stress of saving the world in three days. Evan wasn't bad, though.

"Left," I instructed. "No, that left...yeah."

"What am I supposed to be doing again?"

"What, isn't the obnoxious fairy making it clear? Find the damn ocarina in three days!"

"Where is it?"

I sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Why are you making me do this again?"

"Because it's fun," I replied with a grin.

"You enjoy pain, I see."

"Sorry, it's not my fault you got eaten by a squid...Haven't you ever played a Zelda game before?"

"Yeah, I beat the first few of them, but--"

"The NES ones? Oh, sweet, I have those! Let's play."

"Thank God. How are you supposed to beat the game in three days, anyway?"

"You go back in time and start over, duh." I pressed the restart button, panning around to the original Legend of Zelda and tossing him the controller again.

"Oh, it's so obvious."

"It really is, in Ocarina of Time you did nothing but go back, go forward, go back--in time. But it's not Hyrule, it's Termina, so it works differently. You keep the items and...oh wait, you don't care," I muttered as he skipped the intro and started playing.

"Yeah, I do. Sorta. Crap." I think he died; anyway, the screen went red. He sighed and started over. "I'm not used to the Gamecube..."

"Xbox?"

"No, PS2."

"Damn, I am so jealous. Any Final Fantasy games on it?"

"Only the good ones."

I moaned with envy as he beat up a Tektite, actually making progress of sorts like I had never been able to do.

"Where is this alleged PS2?" I inquired. "At your house?"

He frowned. "Yeah, at my house. At my old house a hundred miles away..."

"What, you don't have any of that stuff?"

"Somebody brought me some of my clothes and stuff...they said they'd send it all over when someone bought the house, but I don't think they'll sell it. It wasn't anything special." He fell silent for a moment, apparently to navigate some rough terrain. "It's annoying, actually. I had a lot of stuff that I need...pretty much, my entire life savings was stashed in a place they'll never find, in this...loose floorboard...and there's all my books and stuff, too..."

"That must suck," I nodded sympathetically.

"Really does, I need it, don't I?" He took out his frustration on an Octorok, clenching the controller so hard that his fingers turned white.

"Don't break my controller," I warned him. He sighed, falling back onto the bed; I leaned over him, and he blinked in mild surprise as he found himself looking straight at me.

"Hi," I said. "Do you know how weird this looks?"

He offered me the controller with a grin. "Want to play?"

"Yeah, move over." He obliged, and I sat next to him as I picked up from where he left the game. He gave me instructions in his soft voice, not teasingly as I had done, and so the afternoon wore away.

I don't really know how it came about, but Evan stayed past dinner(leftovers (: ), and long past dusk. It was about eight or nine when we were sitting on the back porch and talking,

"So anyway, I was reading tea leaves the other night..."

He snorted, and I explained.

"No, it works! With exotic tea, right, you just open the teabag, swirl it around--after you drink it--and read the pattern; whatever you wanna know, it'll tell you."

"And?"

"Erm, well, I got a Grim, but then--"

"A what?"

"A Grim, stupid! It's a really bad death omen, supposedly."

He muttered a curse, eyes widening, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Relax, I've gotten them before, they're never right. Or, well that time it applied to a character in my book...but anyway, the time after that, I got an acorn or something--luck and happiness--and I think it meant you, so how cool is that?"

"I thought you said they were never right."

"Well, one of my characters did die...no worries, but that proves that these things are right. Sometimes."

"But you control your characters."

"To an extent. See, it was actually a good thing; I had severe writer's block, and then I had this dream where she died--ick--but that fixed my problem. And she comes back to life, necromancy isn't all that hard."

"If you say so."

Crap, I thought. Bad subject.

"But anyway, expect good luck."

"Whatever."

I glared at him. "What's up with you?"

He didn't answer, watching the moonlight glint off my windchimes. A soft wind blew, shaking the leaves, and the windchimes' music floated to us. It had gotten considerably warmer since this afternoon.

"It's been half a year," he answered quietly after a long silence.

"Half a year? Since wh--"

I thought about it, for once. Six months...that was June...what happened in June?

"Ohh," I said at last. June, summer, road trip to Galveston Island that ended in disaster, Kirby, you idiot. "Oyae," I muttered, using one of my invented curses.

He didn't reply, at least not for a long time. "Half a year..." he muttered to himself eventually. "Half a damn year..."

"s**t," I said aloud, completely unintentionally. It brought him back to reality, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Um, my bad," I murmured sheepishly. That wasn't supposed to come out...

"Can't argue with you, though." He sighed. "I miss my parents..."

"Yeah," I said quietly, "I bet you would..."

He rested his face in his hands, hiding his expression from me; I guessed--accurately, as it happens--that he was trying not to cry.

"Look," I said eventually, aware that my statement would either tick him off to the point of beating me up or cheer him up to no end. "I'm right down the street, all right? If you ever get lonely, you can come over here. Don't worry about waking me up, I'm lazy, and you can just throw something at my window if you want. Mi casa es tu casa, si?"

He didn't say anything. I laid a hand on his shoulder, aware that if I was ticking him off, he'd probably toss me into the holly bushes like a rag doll (ouch, by the way--prickly.) "That goes for my parents, too. You know, my whole family loves you, I could tell...as far as I'm concerned, you're more an Emerson than a Richards. And besides, you like us better, right?"

He still did not answer, but I could tell, from some seventh sense, that he was smiling.

"Tomorrow's Black Friday, and dammit, we're going to the mall. Yes? Yes. I'll drop by your house. Don't sleep in, we gotta get moving, all right?"

He thought about it; I swear, that kid thought too much. It was really very easy...

But at last, he raised his head at me, eyes shining. "Sounds fun," he said, with the barest hint of a smile.

True to my word, I informed Mom that I was going to the mall with Evan, and that yes, I had my cell phone, and left for his house. The traffic was pretty bad for this time of day, but it was understandable; everything in the stores would be at least half off today.

Evan's house was very quiet; but then, it was very, very early. I had warned him to get his a** out of bed early, hadn't I? Only, nicely.

It was tough, but I finally took an educated guess at where Evan's room was and lobbed a pinecone at the window. When there was no response, I tossed a harder one. A dim light shone, and the window slid open; an unfamiliar voice muttered curses as some tall, muscular football player--devoid of a shirt, but totally revolting-- leaned out. I hastily flattened myself against the wall, thankful that I was hidden from view even if he happened to look down.

"Damn squirrels," he muttered before pulling his head back in. There were no other voices; either Evan was asleep, or not there. I guessed on instinct that it was the latter, and instead moved to that room with only a couch, a television, and a window seat. This time, I opted for pebbles.

Tap...tap...tap...t-t-t-t-tap!

I lost patience and threw my entire handful at the window. A thin curtain pulled back, and the window opened soundlessly. Evan looked around in confusion, tousle-haired and shirtless; this was so worth it.

"Huh, what...Kirby!" His eyes widened as he ducked behind the windowsill, emerging with a Rock Kills Kid t-shirt pulled on, messing up his hair even more. "Don't scare me like that..."

"Morning," I said brightly. "Ready to go?"

"What the hell..." He glanced behind him, obviously at some sort of clock. "It's five in the morning!"

"I said don't sleep late, come on, we're already behind schedule! And shut up, Zach's awake."

"You call this late?"

"Yes! Shut up and get down here, already!"

He groaned quietly, nodding, and disappeared again. "And keep your hair like that," I called on a second thought. "It's cute."

He ignored me, and when he reemerged, his hair was brushed flat. I sighed. "I'm coming down this way," he informed me. "They have alarm systems set up at the doors."

"I'll remember that if I ever want to rob their house," I muttered, watching as he jumped on the wide window ledge, then dangled off it by his fingertips and dropped to the ground.

"You'd be doing me a favor," he said grimly. "What'd you go and wake Zach up for?"

"Why won't you sleep in your own room for once?"

"I don't want to."

"Well, there you go. It's your problem."

"My problem is that I'm friends with a crazy girl who goes shopping at five in the freaking morning!"

"You'll live, come on. Did you leave a note or something?"

"Yeah, it's fine. They'd just get mad that I went out the window."

"Whatever, it isn't like you care anyway."

"Will the mall even be open this early?"

"Don't know, don't care, come on!"

He nodded and followed me as I slipped away into the night.



Black Friday is hell. No, really, it is. I decided after that day that it was completely unworth the extremely low prices; my soul had a much higher price than that, anyway. But, for the twenty or so dollars left of the Kirby Emerson foundation, I got a ton of awesome crap with room to spare.

Evan was right, as he constantly reminded me; the mall was not open at the moment, though it opened pretty damn early, being the mall. We walked into Starbucks and got a coffee for Evan and Chai tea with soymilk for me, and sat and waited while Evan frowned at me several times, in a bad mood from lack of sleep. But finally, the mall opened, and we entered the gates of hell with our halos loaded and ready to fire, though admittedly, mine was rather tarnished.

To save time and cash, I informed Evan that he needed to pick out a Christmas present while we were here.

"It's okay, I don't want anything," he objected.

"Yes, you do. Now pick something."

"You don't have to--"

"Yes I do."

"But it's--"

"I do, Evan, now get picking, please!"

But no matter how much I persuaded him, he stubbornly refused to say anything but "I dno't want anything." Even the threat of dragging him into Victoria's Secret was to no avail. I thought with a sigh that I would be forced to find something myself, and, disheartened, suggested leaving. Evan agreed, but not before I stopped by my favorite store, The San Fransisco Music Box Co. Everything shiny and moving caught my eye as I moved about here and there, but soon, finding nothing at Black Friday prices besides the Buddha keychains, I chose to leave.

"Come on, Evan...Evan?"

I looked around, spotting him standing before a shelf, mesmerized.

"Evan!"

He looked up, blinking in confusion. "Huh?"

"Whatcha looking at?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Did you want to leave?"

I thought about it. "Hold on one second."

Playing for time, watching him out of the corner of my eye, I turtled up the the cashier and said, "Um, hi..." No response from Evan-- "I was wondering if..."

There! for a brief second, Evan's eyes flashed to a mahogany music box, open to reveal something moving that I could not see.

"I was wondering, how much would that box there be? The dark one...with the design on the lid."

"Forty."

I winced. "Can I put it on hold for a few days?"

He nodded. "Certainly."

I took a few moments to work out the details, then led the way out of the shop. On my treat, we grabbed a pretzel and a smoothie from the nearest store before heading into the brght sunlight.

Thanks to the traffic, we could only go home, back to the mall, to the movies or something, and to the park. Drained of cash, I suggested the last option, and Evan agreed. I sat on a swing and polished off the smoothie, while Evan stretched out on a park bench, closing his eyes.

"Hey," I said sternly. "No falling asleep."

"Five in the morning, Kirby," he muttered. "No human being should have to get up that early."

"I did."

"Exactly my point."

I glared at him. "What are you saying? What am I, then?"

"A devil in disguise," he said sleepily.

"Don't use my Elvis against me," I warned with a frown. "Not when I love him so."

He did not reply; I suspected he had fallen asleep. I let him, singing to myself the song he had gotten stuck in my head:



Bored again, I stood and leaned over Evan until he opened his eyes.

"You know what?" I told him, smiling.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "What?"

"You have some pretty nice abs."

He frowned. "You know, you really shouldn't wake people up so early..."

"And maybe you should wear a shirt...or, not." I grinned. "I might have to come over more often to see that..."

"Shut up," he muttered, closing his eyes again. Sighing, I leaned against the back of the bench.

"I had fun."

"Mmhmm."

"We should do this again sometime."

"Mmm."

"Isn't it a shame, I've never gone to Black Friday shopping in my own town? Just in Houston. and never with a guy."

"Heaven forbid."

"Especially not a guy who can dodge crowds so well..."

"Yup..."

"...when he's half asleep..."

"Mm."

"...and I drugged your coffee."

"Mmhmm."

"You know, you're not very interesting at all."

"Great, can I be asleep and not interesting?"

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"My own reasons. You're boring."

"Okay."

"Let's go back to my house!" I said enthusiastically. "Mom said we're picking out a Christmas tree today, you can come if you want!"

He sat up, nodding, stifling a yawn. "Okay, just stop talking so fast..."

"Fine, just come on!"

As we walked back home, I asked, "Why are you so tired anyway?"

"Five in the morning..."

"But you had plenty of time to sleep."

"No, two hours..."

"What? You were up till three?"

"Yeah...couldn't sleep..."

"Insomniac attack?"

"If you say so."

"You're no fun tired."

"...I know."

Mom and my sister were out shopping somewhere, and Dad was working outside, so we pretty much had the house to ourselves. Hastily kicking yesterday's discarded outfit under the bed, I turned on some music, Hinder and Cartel mix, and danced around while Evan sat sleepily on my bed and watched.

"What d'you want to do?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Erm...hrm...I know! Mom rented V for Vendetta while we were away, wanna watch? It's rated R, but who gives a crap?"

"Okay."

"Cool, I'll--Oh, wait a minute," I interrupted myself. "VCR isn't plugged in...um, stay here, I'll be right back."

He nodded, and I left. Some genius had unplugged the VCR, you see, and I needed to hook it up before we could watch V, so I took a few mintues to hook it back up again, tossing in the DVD and pressing Play.

"Evan!" I called as I threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave and pressed a few buttons. He did not answer, and when the popcorn beeped, he was still not there.

"Evan, get your a** in here!" I said loudly. No response. Muttering to myself, I went in to go get him...

And I froze...and I smiled.

This would make such a cute Christmas card, I thought, shakig m,y head in amazement.

Evan was lying back on my pillows, fast asleep on my touseled bed.

Oh, the blackmail, my evil self cackled as she flew in from the Wicked West. Go on, my pretty! Take a picture!

No! her Dorothy-esque counterpart cried. He's your friend, and also a guy--Oh my!

What the hell? I asked myself in bemusement.

Don't do it!

Do it!

Errr... I picked up my camera. I like her idea.

Shiick, snap! The picture was in my camera in a flash.

No, you mustn't! Dorothy self sobbed. I rolled my eyes--at myself, oddly.

Shut up, Dorothy, you really aren't in Kansas anymore, I said tritely. This is the grand MGM world of color. I'm not blackmailing him, I'm just keeping it...It's funny.

Well, sure it is, she conceded. Wicked Witch frowned.

Now, go on, go away.

I'll get you, my pretty, the Witch muttered as she and Dorothy abated and disapparated.

Okay, that was weird.

I watched Evan for a minute, my arms folded and a smile lifting my lips. He was kind of cute asleep...

"You're hopeless," I said quietly, pulling the blanket over him. "I kinda like it."



When Mom got home, she found me lying on the living room couch, munching on my popcorn an a root beer and reading a battered book. At once, I glanced at her and put a finger to my lips.

"Don't be too loud, okay Mom? Please?"

"Why?"

I giggled. "It's really funny, actually. See, I woke Evan up early, and he was tired, so when I turn my back for five minutes he falls asleep on my bed...kinda weird, huh?"

Mom nodded mutely, struggling to find her voice. "So there's been a boy...on your bed...for how long?"

"Two...no, three hours."

"There's been a teenage boy sleeping in your bed for three hours?"

"No, just Evan. The teenage boy left. Kidding, Mom," I added hasstily. "You knwo Evan, it's not like he meant to..."

Mom frowned, biting her lip, and I pleaded, "Please don't be mad, Mom...it was my fault, I sent him home late and woke him up early and I was boring..."

"I'm not mad," she said. "Oh, by the way, Whitney called for you earlier."

"Sweet! Thanks." I picked up the phone and dialed Whitney's number, pacing outside my room instead of inside it like I always did.

"Hola, chica, ?como estas?"

"Hey, Whitney, you called?"

"Yeah, I was going to invite you to Black Friday mall-whore with me, but your mom said you were out..."

"Yeah, I went shopping with Evan."

"With who?"

"Ev-an."

"You player, Kirby," she teased me. "So?"

"It was great. So it's four-thirty, right, and I want to get going, so I throw a pinecone at Evan's window, and this huge football player sticks his head out of the window and says, "damn squirrels," and I'm like, oops, wrong house. Then I found Evan's room and Whitney, it was the funniest thing ever...his hair was all messy, and he wasn't wearing a shirt..."

"Ooh..."

"Yeah, I know...talk about cute. and then he ducks below the window when he sees me and pulls on a shirt, right, and I tell him to shut up and get down there--"

"Typical Kirby."

"Well, nicely. And he fell from the second story, Whitney...effing hilarious."

"He fell?"

"Well, dropped. And it gets better!"

"Tell on, Kirbette."

"Okay, so we go to Starbucks, right, and them to the mall, and then we come back to my house and he's all tired...like you, on no sleep and no caffeine."

"Ouch, poor Evan."

"And the best part is, I turn around to make some popcorn and when I get back he's passed out on my bed. How funny is that?"

"Oh my God, there's a hot guy in your bed. What now?"

"I know, I'm such a whore. Well, I feel like one. But he looked so cute...I have pictures."

"Yes, I want to see those."

"Well, nice self said no...meh, why not?"

"So, what then?"

"Nothng, he's still asleep. I left him alone..."

"Wow, so you drag him out of bed, drug his coffee, lead him unsuspectingly to your room, lure him to sleep...and then, you leave him alone. Great."

"Yeah, I was going to push him out, but then I thought, hey, why don't I just go to sleep anyway and ignore him? Guess how that woulda turned out."

"Cruddily for all involved."

"Yep."

"Anyway, we're gonna watch V for Vendetta, wanna join us?"

"What us? I thought he was sleeping."

"He'll stop with that pretty soon. It's been like, three hours."

"Damn."

"Anyway, we're going to go treehunting, and then we'll pick you up and have a movie fest, bueno?"

"Souds good, chicadee."

"I guess I'll see you in about half an hour...I gotta go find something loud and obnoxious to wake up Sleeping Cutie over here...wish me luck."

"Good luck, later girl!"

"Thanks, byee."

I hung up, placing the phone in its cradle, and pushed my bedroom door open. Evan was still asleep, as if he hadn't moved since I had left. I considered multiple strategies on reviving him...there was this wind-up toy that made very, very loud music I could send in...but in the end, I chose something both ten times funnier and twenty times meaner. I slipped in and rifled through my closet--I could not do anything until iw as properly dressed.

I hastily exchanged my sweatshirt for a familiar white turtleneck, glancing at Evan to see if he had seen--no. As I grabbed another shirt to put on over it, my foot "accidentally" kicked my closet door, creating a nice loud bang and bringing Evan back from the dead. He stirred, opening his eyes just as I began to button my shirt.

"Huh...? What...where am I?" he murmured dazedly.

"As if you didn't know," I replied sweetly, with a coy smile. "After all that happened last night! Though, you were much too tired...really," I finished in exasperation.

His eyes widened, and he sat up at once. "Oh s**t."

"You really shouldn't say it like that," I reproached him petulantly. "Even with that, I had fun! We should definitely do that again sometime."

"Damn, what the hell did I do?" he muttered to himself, standing at once and making for the door. "Crap--"

"Where are you going?" I called. He groaned, striking himself on the forehead--I decided the joke wasn't funny anymore.

"Evan, get back here," I demanded. "I was teasing."

He froze, stiffening. "Teasing?"

"Yup. Had to get you up somehow, and this was the funniest way--for me."

"You were...teasing." He let out a breath, fists clenching. "Don't do that!"

"Damn, your reactions to these things suck. You need to practice."

"For what!"

"Acting, like me. How great was I?"

"You know that wasn't funny, don't you?" he said sternly.

"I know," I digressed. "Okay, game plan: treeshopping at Wal-Mart--classy--then we pick up Whitney and watch V for Vendetta.
?Tu quieres?."

"Fine with me."

I smiled as I passed him at the door. "Oh, and by the way..."

"This never happened."

"What never happened?" I replied innocently.

"Exactly." I grinned.

As it turned out, Black Friday ended pretty well. We found a nice eight-foot tree, and Evan and I together carried it and set it up, and then we all sat down with more popcorn to watch the movie. There were several opportunities to clutch at the nearest convienent arm; namely, Evan's. He didn't seem to mind.

Whitney spent the night; Evan went home, promising to return the next day. I was pleased that all had ended well--Whitney got to see the picture like I had promised, Mom forgot and Dad never fuond out about the whole Evan-falling-asleep-on-Kirby's-bed-thing, and I knew, though I could not have said why, that I had found the perfect Christmas gift for Evan.

All was well. And all would remain well.

DAMMIT, KIRBY. I SHOULD BE WORKING ON MY ESSAYS. THERE ARE THREE LEFT TO WRITE AND THEN ONE TO EDIT.

PHIT. *kicks story*

PS Forty.

The poll is up. I like the whole "large adorable throw pillow" option. I have met teddy bear guys, and they are tons of fun to hug.

If not, I'd probably just sit there and watch until I fell asleep too. And then, that'd be when option B comes into play O.o