Sequel: Earth to Me ›
Generation Why Bother
Hangover from a Miracle
To get back to tradition, that next Christmas morning held one of our own. As usual, the Thompsons came over at around ten in the morning and we had exchanged gifts and sat by the tree, drinking coffee and hot chocolate while a small flurry of snow fell outside. Snuggled up in blankets was the best way to spend that morning. Our two little families always teamed up to form a slightly bigger one every Christmas morning, since our relatives lived too far away for us to visit.
Ms. Tracey and Tegan stayed that whole day, helping my dad cook the turkey he probably couldn’t make all on his own. When we were younger, Tegan and I would huddle in my room and play with whatever cool toys we got, while nowadays, we just gawked at whatever neat clothes our parents bought for us along with all the art supplies I got weighed down with from our extended family.
After the initial hubbub of presents and breakfast – my dad made waffles, which he never did – I happily took my stuff back to my room with Tegan trailing behind me, holding her own stuff to take to her house later. When I put down the endless sketchbooks and colored pencils on my desk, I turned around to face her and she was holding something wrapped up for me. (Well, I assumed it was for me, since she was holding it out to me.)
She smiled expectantly and shoved it into my stomach; it was soft. “What’s this?” I had to ask.
“A little present,” she sang, giving it to me and sitting on my bed. “Open it, dude.”
I followed orders and ripped apart the green paper, and of course, what peeked out of the wrapping paper was something familiar, yet new. A deep red plaid pattern stood out, the fabric comfortable just as it was; I pulled the whole thing out to discover that it was almost the exact same jacket I’d been wearing for years. It even had the same faux-fur-lined hood, only it wasn’t faded with dirt and age.
“The same exact jacket you’ve been wearing since middle school – only new!” she cheered, holding one hand out in a “ta-da!” motion.
I laughed along with her and put it on over the pajama shirt I wore, already warming up to it. It even smelled like brand new laundry detergent, and man, it was a far cry from the old scrap fabric I snuggled up in every mildly chilly day. I thanked her for it and reached over to a comparatively much smaller gift I kept on my bureau, a tiny box that held the gift I’d gotten her back in November in anticipation for Christmas.
Back then, my dad and I were at the mall going shopping for clothes because both of us basically wore our clothes until they fall apart (unless we’re talking about my favorite jacket Tegan found a new version of). And I know it’s kind of sad to be shopping with your dad of all people, but we know how to get into a store and get out before getting too carried away since we’re both guys who don’t really care much about fashion. In the middle of one store, though, I passed the jewelry section, and from the moment I saw a certain necklace, I knew it’d be perfect for Tegan.
It was subtle and symbolic and I hope it was for her as well, even if it had taken her a moment to realize what it was.
She opened up the box and saw a tiger prowling along the chain of the necklace, and she blinked with her eyebrows wrinkled together before she gasped and broke into a huge smile. Tegan threw her arms around my neck and laughed as she did it, thanking me just as I thanked her.
“I kinda even forgot about those nicknames they gave us since they didn’t even have a real purpose,” she had said. “Now I’m definitely gonna remember mine, at least.”
I zipped up my new jacket, already not wanting to get out of my pajamas for the rest of the day, and then I sat in my computer chair while she took up my bed, sorting out the boxes of dresses and skirts and pants she had gotten from her mother. We were in our own worlds for a little while, not feeling the need to fill the void with chatter, when suddenly she gasped and grabbed my arm.
“Oh my God, I forgot! You’re not gonna believe what Shira told me last night!” She looked maniacally happy and it almost scared me.
“What’d she say?” I was curious, obviously.
“Well,” she started, “she pulled me aside when we were all walking to our car and took me out to that door that leads to all the staircases, and for a second I thought she was gonna throw me down the stairs. But then she said I was an attractive earth female! And then she said she was even interested in finding mistletoe so we could stand under it and ‘partake in the human tradition!’”
She was absolutely gushing at that point, cherry-faced and waving her hands all around.
I snorted, “She is so weird,” but man, was that a surprise to hear.
She kept talking at a million miles an hour. “I know right? Then I said we didn’t need mistletoe to kiss and then she was like, ‘Really?’ and then brought up how weird it was that Andy and Anthony were so compelled to kiss under the mistletoe and came up with this dumb theory about maybe a secret chemical that’s released by mistletoe or whatever but I insisted because God dang it, I was so close to kissing her.” She paused and looked off into the distance with a cheesy grin. “And then she asked me if she could kiss me right then and there and I said yeah and then she did, and oh my God, I’m still reeling from it!”
Her smile was contagious and I high-fived her, congratulating, “Tegan Charlotte Thompson, you player! God, she’s gonna be your sugar momma now.”
“I kissed an alien babe! I’m set for life!” she giggled, ignoring the slight pedophilia.
“Well, now she’d better come back a lot more often or else I’m gonna have to have a few angry words with her,” I asserted, speaking truth. I already had enough reasons to not like her, and her leaving Tegan in the dust would be another huge one.
Her face still bright and her soul still cheery, she thanked me again. The topic had moved on, though, at her next question. “So why did Andy pull you behind after we all left, anyway?”
God, there was no way I could forget about that. I’d been eager to show her the gift Andy gave me ever since the last night, and that’s why I jumped up from my seat and dove into my closet where I stashed it, careful to not let anyone but Tegan see it. I pulled the familiar gift bag out and carefully removed the tissue paper again, gently taking the first print of the first issue of Johnny Cool and the Dudes out.
Tegan gasped almost as loudly as I did upon initially laying eyes on it, reaching out and hesitating after seeing the mint condition of the paper.
“It’s the first ever print of the first issue,” I told her, a little arrogant though not enough to take me off the ground. “I don’t know if it was just Andy being drunk when he decided to give it to me, but he went on a little spiel telling me not to listen to what Anthony told us. About not looking up to something that’s not real, you know what he said.”
She had her hands over her mouth as she stared intently on the comic. “Yeah, I never took Anthony’s advice seriously anyway.”
“I don’t think Andy does half the time, either,” I laughed a bit.
Tegan raised her eyebrows. “Well, if Anthony tried to set me on fire, I wouldn’t take his advice to heart either.” She flipped through the pages oh so carefully, a look of wonder in her eyes. “Man, if he gave you this, maybe I’m not the only one here who’s pushing the age of consent with my crush.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’s not a pedophile. It’s a whole different question, whether or not he’s gay, though.”
“You’re honestly gonna look me in the eye and tell me that if he showed up naked in your bed and said, ‘Do me,’ you wouldn’t take advantage of it? Come on, I see the looks you give him.”
“I – I don’t give him looks!” (At least, none that I knew of.)
She cocked her eyebrows at me in some sort of amused look of incredulousness. “I’m messing with you, Oshie.” A wave of relief washed over me. “God, your nose is so red right now, I’m gonna call you Rudolph. You should see the look on your face.”
I got in touch with my mature side and mocked her in a high-pitched voice with a sneer, poking her in the side of her stomach.
Ms. Tracey and Tegan stayed that whole day, helping my dad cook the turkey he probably couldn’t make all on his own. When we were younger, Tegan and I would huddle in my room and play with whatever cool toys we got, while nowadays, we just gawked at whatever neat clothes our parents bought for us along with all the art supplies I got weighed down with from our extended family.
After the initial hubbub of presents and breakfast – my dad made waffles, which he never did – I happily took my stuff back to my room with Tegan trailing behind me, holding her own stuff to take to her house later. When I put down the endless sketchbooks and colored pencils on my desk, I turned around to face her and she was holding something wrapped up for me. (Well, I assumed it was for me, since she was holding it out to me.)
She smiled expectantly and shoved it into my stomach; it was soft. “What’s this?” I had to ask.
“A little present,” she sang, giving it to me and sitting on my bed. “Open it, dude.”
I followed orders and ripped apart the green paper, and of course, what peeked out of the wrapping paper was something familiar, yet new. A deep red plaid pattern stood out, the fabric comfortable just as it was; I pulled the whole thing out to discover that it was almost the exact same jacket I’d been wearing for years. It even had the same faux-fur-lined hood, only it wasn’t faded with dirt and age.
“The same exact jacket you’ve been wearing since middle school – only new!” she cheered, holding one hand out in a “ta-da!” motion.
I laughed along with her and put it on over the pajama shirt I wore, already warming up to it. It even smelled like brand new laundry detergent, and man, it was a far cry from the old scrap fabric I snuggled up in every mildly chilly day. I thanked her for it and reached over to a comparatively much smaller gift I kept on my bureau, a tiny box that held the gift I’d gotten her back in November in anticipation for Christmas.
Back then, my dad and I were at the mall going shopping for clothes because both of us basically wore our clothes until they fall apart (unless we’re talking about my favorite jacket Tegan found a new version of). And I know it’s kind of sad to be shopping with your dad of all people, but we know how to get into a store and get out before getting too carried away since we’re both guys who don’t really care much about fashion. In the middle of one store, though, I passed the jewelry section, and from the moment I saw a certain necklace, I knew it’d be perfect for Tegan.
It was subtle and symbolic and I hope it was for her as well, even if it had taken her a moment to realize what it was.
She opened up the box and saw a tiger prowling along the chain of the necklace, and she blinked with her eyebrows wrinkled together before she gasped and broke into a huge smile. Tegan threw her arms around my neck and laughed as she did it, thanking me just as I thanked her.
“I kinda even forgot about those nicknames they gave us since they didn’t even have a real purpose,” she had said. “Now I’m definitely gonna remember mine, at least.”
I zipped up my new jacket, already not wanting to get out of my pajamas for the rest of the day, and then I sat in my computer chair while she took up my bed, sorting out the boxes of dresses and skirts and pants she had gotten from her mother. We were in our own worlds for a little while, not feeling the need to fill the void with chatter, when suddenly she gasped and grabbed my arm.
“Oh my God, I forgot! You’re not gonna believe what Shira told me last night!” She looked maniacally happy and it almost scared me.
“What’d she say?” I was curious, obviously.
“Well,” she started, “she pulled me aside when we were all walking to our car and took me out to that door that leads to all the staircases, and for a second I thought she was gonna throw me down the stairs. But then she said I was an attractive earth female! And then she said she was even interested in finding mistletoe so we could stand under it and ‘partake in the human tradition!’”
She was absolutely gushing at that point, cherry-faced and waving her hands all around.
I snorted, “She is so weird,” but man, was that a surprise to hear.
She kept talking at a million miles an hour. “I know right? Then I said we didn’t need mistletoe to kiss and then she was like, ‘Really?’ and then brought up how weird it was that Andy and Anthony were so compelled to kiss under the mistletoe and came up with this dumb theory about maybe a secret chemical that’s released by mistletoe or whatever but I insisted because God dang it, I was so close to kissing her.” She paused and looked off into the distance with a cheesy grin. “And then she asked me if she could kiss me right then and there and I said yeah and then she did, and oh my God, I’m still reeling from it!”
Her smile was contagious and I high-fived her, congratulating, “Tegan Charlotte Thompson, you player! God, she’s gonna be your sugar momma now.”
“I kissed an alien babe! I’m set for life!” she giggled, ignoring the slight pedophilia.
“Well, now she’d better come back a lot more often or else I’m gonna have to have a few angry words with her,” I asserted, speaking truth. I already had enough reasons to not like her, and her leaving Tegan in the dust would be another huge one.
Her face still bright and her soul still cheery, she thanked me again. The topic had moved on, though, at her next question. “So why did Andy pull you behind after we all left, anyway?”
God, there was no way I could forget about that. I’d been eager to show her the gift Andy gave me ever since the last night, and that’s why I jumped up from my seat and dove into my closet where I stashed it, careful to not let anyone but Tegan see it. I pulled the familiar gift bag out and carefully removed the tissue paper again, gently taking the first print of the first issue of Johnny Cool and the Dudes out.
Tegan gasped almost as loudly as I did upon initially laying eyes on it, reaching out and hesitating after seeing the mint condition of the paper.
“It’s the first ever print of the first issue,” I told her, a little arrogant though not enough to take me off the ground. “I don’t know if it was just Andy being drunk when he decided to give it to me, but he went on a little spiel telling me not to listen to what Anthony told us. About not looking up to something that’s not real, you know what he said.”
She had her hands over her mouth as she stared intently on the comic. “Yeah, I never took Anthony’s advice seriously anyway.”
“I don’t think Andy does half the time, either,” I laughed a bit.
Tegan raised her eyebrows. “Well, if Anthony tried to set me on fire, I wouldn’t take his advice to heart either.” She flipped through the pages oh so carefully, a look of wonder in her eyes. “Man, if he gave you this, maybe I’m not the only one here who’s pushing the age of consent with my crush.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’s not a pedophile. It’s a whole different question, whether or not he’s gay, though.”
“You’re honestly gonna look me in the eye and tell me that if he showed up naked in your bed and said, ‘Do me,’ you wouldn’t take advantage of it? Come on, I see the looks you give him.”
“I – I don’t give him looks!” (At least, none that I knew of.)
She cocked her eyebrows at me in some sort of amused look of incredulousness. “I’m messing with you, Oshie.” A wave of relief washed over me. “God, your nose is so red right now, I’m gonna call you Rudolph. You should see the look on your face.”
I got in touch with my mature side and mocked her in a high-pitched voice with a sneer, poking her in the side of her stomach.