How Nick and Holly Wrecked...Saved Christmas by Carla Rossi Page A

off.”
    I pull the buds from my ears and peek out from under the six quilts she heaped on me to keep me from freezing to death. “I’m awake,” I say and glance at my phone. “It’s 9:00 PM and I’m in bed. I’ve reached a new level of pathetic.”
    She laughs, and I see she’s brought another blanket.
    “Step away from the quilt, Granny. You’ve already buried me so deep in the patchwork avalanche that I’m losing signal.”
    “This entire complex is wireless. You should have plenty of signal unless the snow’s picked up. Sometimes it gets slow when there’s heavy snow on the mountain.”
    I produce a nasally half-snort. The mountain. Hate it.
    I adjust my pink and black flannel bottoms and twist my tank into place.
    She shivers and makes sure the blinds are all the way down. “It’s always so cold in this room. Are you sure you-”
    “Positive.”
    She laughs and pulls away layers of bedding and neatly folds and stacks quilts at the end of the dresser. “How’s that?”
    “Better.” I pat the bed.
    Granny settles in on the end. “Were you talking to Amanda?”
    “Texting.”
    “You know there’s no reason Amanda can’t visit you here or pick you up to go out. I’d be happy to send you for a Christmas luncheon together at the tearoom. My treat.”
    “Thanks, Granny, but Amanda is in Ohio with her family.”
    I imagine my best friend crammed in an SUV with her slutty older sister, obnoxious younger brother, and her over-protective parents. It’s a wonder her head stays attached with all the information she stores. Her sister does this, her parents don’t know that, her brother got in trouble there... No one but Amanda seems to know what’s really going on. But at least she’s with her family at Christmas. Her whole family.
    “Now,” Granny says. “What do we need to do about that nose? Do you need acetaminophen? Or do we need to change the tape? It’s starting to peel around the edges.”
    I growl. I grunt. I groan and flop myself into the deep downy pillows. “There’s nothing left to do,” I wail. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. All this dressing can come off in the morning. As of now, it’s supposed to be healing on its own. I have a decongestant and some antibiotics.” I crawl toward granny and put my head in her lap. “I’m hideous.”
    She gathers my hair in her slightly crooked fingers and runs her red nails across my scalp and through it like a comb. It feels so good I curl into a kitten-like ball and lean into her hand. It is the best feeling.
    My mother never does this.
    “ Mon cheri , you are not hideous. There is no permanent damage and you will heal. The bruising will get lighter every day. You will be good as new when school starts again.”
    “Ug... School. They’ll gawk at me anyway.” I moan and twist. I am so irritated and angry with the whole situation I can think of little else. “I was the only junior with a solo in the holiday show. The only female vocalist with two Christmas classics—and one of them was that duet with Tyler Hallmark.”
    “I was there, cheri . I remember.”
    “Then I’m sure you also remember how that freak-show loser Nick Zernigan, assaulted me with the Baby, It’s Cold Outside set-piece and ruined the show. And quite possibly my life, career, nose, and vocal reputation.”
    “A terrible accident, I agree, but certainly not a career or life-ending tragedy.”
    “Nick and his crew were in charge of set construction and design. They should have made sure that poorly painted piece of plywood was secure. Instead, I get pounded with a falling two-by-four, mid-song.”
    “There was faculty supervision, oui ?”
    “ Oui .”
    “It’s not Nick’s fault. You don’t know for sure what happened, and someone should have been double-checking the work. That’s common safety procedure.”
    “ Oui, mamie ,” I answer again, but my French phrases don’t sound eloquent and natural like my nearly one hundred percent French granny. I sound