“Morning-time!”
“Uh? Erh?” A
fumbling of blankets. “Jay? ‘s time is .... 2 am?”
“Did you know
that kids wake people really early on Christmas?” I bounce a
Jay-bounce on Charlie’s motel bed, which isn’t a good bouncing
bed at all.
She sits up. I can
feel warmth from her gaze, the god inside her a burning at the back
of her eyes. “One, not Christmas. Two, it’s two.”
“I’m
practising,” I explain, but wisely hop off the bed before she can
throw me off, because I am all about being smart. “I’ve been
listening to movies about Christmas, and kids always get up early in
them.”
“Kids also get
coal if they’ve been bad.”
“But I haven’t
been! I’m even getting presents from followers on tumblr and –.”
“Believe me, this
is counting against you.” I hear Charlie fling covers back over
herself. “Get back to bed.”
And she doesn’t
say it as a request at all. I thump back onto the other bed and
figure she doesn’t want to do gift-practise before Christmas
either. Humans get so weird sometimes.
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