Ex-mas (2 page)

appal ing drawing after another, which her parents apparently thought was cute. So cute that they stil displayed the cards every year in the taupe-upholstered family room, from Thanksgiving through New Year's. The cringe-inducing scribbles were framed and hung at even three-inch intervals along

the mantle.

"How's the card coming along?" her mother asked, appearing in the wide archway in front of her. Mrs. Beckwith had cornflower blue eyes and short, light brown hair that was neatly curled at her chin. She wore a string of pearls around her neck at al times.

Lila smiled innocently, minimizing the IM box just in case her mother had suddenly developed X-ray vision and could see through the laptop to the

screen.

12

"Oh, you know." Lila shrugged. "It's coming." She felt guilty about lying for approximately a second. But then she reminded herself that her parents stil refused to get Lila her own car--despite the fact that she was a
senior
and lived in
Los Angeles,
where there were nothing but vast distances between everything, often with
mountains-
-and got over it. They claimed there might be a car for Lila's eighteenth birthday in January that she could take with her to col ege, and had been dangling the promise ever since she got her learner's permit. It was behind every threat they ever made:
Clean your room before
you go out, or no car for you. Better impress us with those midterm grades, or forget that car.
And so on. But who knew if they'd even keep their word?

The car could just be an elaborate scheme, something they'd read in a parenting book somewhere.
Discipline via positive motivation.
At this point, Lila wouldn't be surprised to discover it was as much an il usion as Santa Claus.

"One of these years I'd like to send the card out before New Year's Eve," Mrs. Beckwith added, with a pointed look at her daughter.

"You can't rush the creative process:" Lila tried to ease her spine back against the plush cushions of the couch.
Relax,
she cautioned herself.
They're
leaving. You can make it.
"Aren't you guys taking off soon?"

"We leave in half an hour," Mrs. Beckwith said, her thin pink

13

lips in a slight frown. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with Cooper?" she asked. Her tone said,
Are you sure you're not going to burn down the
house with our precious little eight-year-old inside?

"Yes, Mom." Lila suppressed an eye rol . "You know, a lot of people actual y
hire
seventeen-year-olds to watch their kids. And here I'm happy to do it for free," she added for a little guilt-inducing effect. Her parents had never left her alone with Cooper. This weekend was a first.

A long-awaited, much-anticipated, seriously overdue first.

"Have you packed?" Lila asked, enjoying the look of confusion that passed over her mother's face. Ultra-organized Mrs. Beckwith had showered the night before and packed days in advance, in sets of color-coordinated separates.

Her mother didn't answer the absurd question, and disappeared back into the kitchen. No doubt to supervise Cooper, even though he was
eight--not

eight months.
Not that Lila's parents seemed to notice that distinction. They treated him like a baby, and like some chicken-and-egg paradox--ta-da!--he acted like a baby.

Cooper had been born early and with complications. Lila could remember what it was like back then, with her parents so freaked out about the surgery

he'd needed. She'd been scared too. But eight years later, he was a happy, healthy, mischievous eight-year-old kid. And yet they
still
treated Cooper like he

14

might break at any moment--al while acting like Lila was a breath away from becoming a juvenile delinquent. When the truth was, she had terrific grades (3.92 GPA, thank you very much), headed up the yearbook committee (how else would she ensure no one ever forgot her?), and played second

doubles on the tennis team (sculpted calves? check). At the very least, she deserved to be left in charge of her own transportation. Was that real y too much to ask?

She maximized the chat window and typed, THINK SOONER BETTER THAN L8R, OK? PARENTS LEAVING SOON AND THIS PARTY NEEDS 2

START ASAP!

Suddenly a grubby, marker-stained hand grabbed her from behind.

"Aaah!" Lila yelped.

"Made you flinch!" Cooper crowed in delight from the back of the couch. Little brat. At least he was over his Indian-burn phase. That had practical y left scars.

Lila gave him her patented Death Glare and slapped her computer shut. "You are a trol ," she told him icily.

"Mom said I could help you with the Christmas card," Cooper announced, his brown eyes lighting up as he danced on the carpet. Cooper was smal for his age, with short, light brown hair, a frustratingly cherubic freckled face, and clothing permanently stained with markers, paint, cake batter, even (grr) Lila's Nars foundation--anything he could get his hands on or

15

into. "I drew a picture of Santa! A good one! If I leave it out for him, do you think he'l like it?"

How Cooper had managed to survive al the way to the third grade with his belief in Santa intact was a mystery. MacKenzie Bolton had ruined the whole

thing for Lila in kindergarten, bringing in a time-stamped photograph of the Boltons' dad leaving presents under the tree and even eating the sugar cookies left out for Santa. But Lila's parents found it adorable, and insisted that no one in the Beckwith house ruin Christmas for Cooper.

Because she knew her mother was listening, aka
monitoring
her, from the next room, Lila forced herself to respond nicely. "Nice one, Coop," she said, taking the supposed Picasso from his hands. The drawing was--surprise!--a glorified stick figure, sporting a fur-trimmed red hat. "But how do you know it looks like him? You fel asleep before you could take his picture last year, remember?"

"Everyone knows what Santa looks like, Lila," Cooper said matter-of-factly, like he couldn't believe Lila had said something so moronic. "He's more famous than the president!"

"You know this is Cooper's favorite time of year, Lila," her mother cal ed from the other room. "You don't have to let him help you with your Christmas card, but maybe while we're away you can help him build one of those gingerbread houses he likes, or bake some Christmas cookies."

16

Cooper wriggled around in joy, a mess of freckles and suspiciously stained green sweatshirt and
boy
on the carpet in front of her. Now that the idea of gingerbread houses and cookies was implanted in his little brain, there would be no escaping it.

"But let's make sure Cooper doesn't eat too many cookies, or too much candy," Mrs. Beckwith continued from the adjacent kitchen. "We have to watch his carbohydrate count. Too many carbs can cause digestion problems."

"Don't worry, Mom." Lila tapped her fingertips on the sleek white top of her iBook. She made a mental note to give herself a manicure before people started showing up tonight. "I'l eat al the leftover carbs."

"As long as Cooper doesn't!" her mother singsonged. Lila's digestive system, presumably, could sort itself out.

Lila stared down at her ragged fingernails. Her parents' attitude certainly wasn't doing Cooper any favors. Lila knew, because she'd been almost as

clueless about life at Cooper's age, and look what it had gotten her--years spent closely investigating extreme loserdom from the inside. She'd wandered through middle school with a selection of fuzzy ponytails on top of her head, Ugly Betty's fashion sense, and no idea how to make the right friends. She and Beau had been best friends growing up and had slid into boyfriend-girlfriend territory in the seventh grade, existing in a little cocoon of first kisses and music. Lila had had some Beau Hodges-induced fantasy about wanting

17

to be a professional singer someday--the kind of professional singer, apparently, who didn't care about her appearance, content to look like a frizzy-

haired Labradoodle.

It wasn't until high school that Lila woke up and smel ed the Frederic Fekkai smoothing cream. She'd had the extraordinarily good fortune of being

falsely accused of cheating on a test in a freshman history class. The other suspected culprit? Carly Hol ander. Since nothing could be proven and both girls denied it, they'd escaped the school's harsher disciplinary measures, but had been forced to serve two weeks of detention together.

Those had been the most educational two weeks of Lila's life. She had come out of those detentions with a coveted invitation to Carly's birthday party and a bone-deep determination to completely change her look and her life. Enough with Lila Beckwith, the starry-eyed loser who drifted around the fringes at North Val ey High. It was time to grow up and stop hiding.

Lila had invited Beau to the party. But he'd acted like she was personal y betraying him by wanting to hang out with "the zombies," as he cal ed the popular kids--Carly Hol ander being the Queen Zombie of their class. Their blowup had ended with Lila going to the party newly single--and
leaving
the party with Erik as her new boyfriend. Just like that, she'd grown up.

Something Cooper needed to do, stat.

"I real y want cookies
and
a gingerbread house," the little monster was saying now, digging his Heely sneaker into the

18

thick beige carpet. "Don't do that thing you do where you promise stuff because Mom's here and then don't do it. I hate that."

Lila braced herself, expecting her mother to come charging in from the kitchen in a righteous fury, outraged that precious Cooper might suffer so much as one second of disappointment at Lila's hands.

But somehow, it didn't happen. A Christmas miracle.

"She went to the laundry room," Cooper explained. "But me and Tyler found this cool website that shows you how you can make any gingerbread house you want if you upload a picture, so we can take one of our house and make--"

"Cooper, you need to shut up for five seconds," Lila snapped. Like she wanted to hear anything about Cooper and his dorky BFF, Tyler, who happened to be Beau's little brother. Cooper and Tyler had gone to preschool together--the same preschool Beau and Lila had attended, way back when. Back

when she was too young to real y know how to make friends.

"But we could make it as a surprise for Mom and Dad--"

"God!" Lila groaned, cutting him off again. "We'l bake cookies or something, but
not
if you're going to be this annoying, okay? It's my vacation, too. Go away."

Cooper just stood there and stared at her, looking like he'd been kicked. With a steel-toed boot. Final y, he scampered off, his shoulders slumped in

disappointment.

19

Lila heaved a sigh. She didn't have time to worry about his little eight-year-old feelings--she had a party to plan. Her delivery of booze was supposed to come in an hour. She checked the delicate gold watch Erik had given her when he left for col ege.
So you'll always know how long until we see each
other again,
he'd said. She felt herself calm down at the thought of his broad, confident smile.

Twelve thirty-two.

T-minus twenty-eight minutes to her parents' departure time.

And then the games would begin.
Finally.

20

Chapter 3

***

LOS ANGELES

DECEMBER 22

1:05 P.M.

****

Beckwith paused in the act of wrapping a gray scarf around her neck to frown directly at Lila, as if the point needed extra emphasis. Lila shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other, flexing her arches against the glossy hardwood floor of the front hal .

"It's clear, Mom," Lila said, her eyes actual y hurting from the effort of not rol ing them to the back of her head. "I'l give Cooper rides." She was actual y more than happy to give Cooper a ride to Tyler's--at least tonight, to get him out of the house. Sleepover for him, party for her.

Her cel phone was vibrating like crazy in her pocket, with everyone no doubt wanting to confirm plans. Yet, her parents

21

were hanging around like they didn't have somewhere else to be. Come on, come on, come on, she chanted silently, urging them out the door.

"That goes for you too, Lila," her father chimed in, frowning as he adjusted his Detroit Tigers basebal cap on his balding head. He'd grown up in the Midwest and stil proudly supported his hometown sports teams. "Don't think this means you can have Erik up to your room. You know the rules."

Her parents actual y loved Erik, despite al the rules. They'd treated Beau like a ticking teenage time bomb. If they were stil together, her room would probably be equipped with a nanny cam.

"Erik isn't home from col ege yet," Lila assured her father, trying to sound trustworthy. She focused on the T-shirt he wore beneath his button-down, featuring a giant pi sign. God, her father was a dork. "So no need to worry about any of that."

"Don't let Cooper stay up al night or gorge himself," Mrs. Beckwith continued. "You can have pizza or sugared cereal tomorrow, but not both. And do not let him watch scary movies! He'l have nightmares for weeks."

"You guys, I live here," Lila pointed out. Her stomach tightened at the identical frozen glare her parents both aimed at her. She shrugged. "I mean, I know how to take care of Cooper. I'm going to be eighteen in, like, five minutes."

"You are not eighteen yet," her father said. A smile played at

22

the corners of his mouth, like he found her funny. "Adulthood doesn't just happen because you want it to. And I'd mind your attitude if you ever want to see that car."

Lila wanted that car. She could
taste
that car. She didn't care what it looked like or what kind it was--she only cared that it had four wheels, an engine, and locks to keep the rest of them out.