Home for the Holidays (10 page)

“Aha,” Donna said. “Finally. Here comes Tommy.”

Nicky had no idea where he'd been hiding it, but Tommy was dressed in a suit. His hair was slicked back.
He was wearing a dress shirt with an open collar, and shiny black shoes with pointy toes.

“Whoa,” Donna said. “Look at you!”

“What?” Tommy said, and ran his hand over his hair. “Can't a guy get dressed up?”

“I'm impressed,” Donna said. “You look nice.”

“Nice,” Tommy said, and scowled. “That's bad, when someone says you look
nice.
You don't like the suit?”

“I think you look great,” Nicky said. “Were you hiding that in your little bag?”

“What else?” Tommy said. “I brought it with me for the party.”

“Lookin' good,” Nicky said. “So who's it for?”

Tommy's face got red. “None of your business.”

“Okay,” Nicky said, and laughed. “But relax. She's not here yet.”

Then, half an hour later, she was. Amy came through the front door with her mother, Marian. Nicky watched Tommy's face get red again. He also watched his uncle Frankie's face light up.

“Marian!” Frankie said. “Mrs. Galloway! Come and meet my friends from Brooklyn. Guys, this is the lady I told you about. Meet Marian.”

“Hi,” Amy said to Nicky. “By which I mean, can you imagine anything more boring in your life than a grownup New Year's Eve party? They're all going to get drunk. At midnight the lights will go out and they'll play kissy-face for ten minutes.”

“That might not be so bad,” Tommy said, and winked. “Depends who you're kissing, right? Maybe you'll get lucky.”

“Oh dear,” Amy said. “Are you trying to be, like,
sexy
or something?”

“I don't have to try,” Tommy said. “It comes naturally. Come on. Show me how you dance.”

Nicky winced. If there ever had been a girl who would hate being talked to like that, it was Amy. To his surprise, though, she laughed at Tommy and said, “Okay. Maybe I
will”

They walked off together.

The music was thumping. Nicky thought about all the moves Tommy had taught him. He could show them to Donna. But suddenly he was too nervous even to try them.

“I'm kinda hungry—are you?” Nicky said.

“Kinda,” Donna said. “Are those your grandmother's meatballs I see over there?”

“Yeah.”

“Let's go.”

The night seemed to last forever. More and more guests arrived. The house got fuller, and louder. Father David came to the party with three old ladies Nicky recognized as his grandmother's friends from St. Monica's. The wine flowed. People moved out under the tent and started dancing. Some of the grown-ups got a little tipsy. Wild laughter rang out now and then. Sometimes Donna
could tell who it was. “Bobby Car Service,” she would say, or, “That's Oscar the Undertaker's wife. She likes to drink.”

Around ten o'clock, Nicky saw his mother in a corner talking with a man in a dark suit over a dark turtleneck. Nicky realized with a jolt that it was the same man he'd seen talking with his mother in the backyard. What was he doing
here?
Nicky looked around for Tommy, and for Uncle Frankie, and for his father. They were all someplace else. He wanted to tell Donna about it. But he also didn't.

He decided not to think about it. He got a cold drink and went back to where he'd left Donna.

Nicky's friends Chad and Jordan came with their parents. They didn't dance. They didn't eat. They couldn't wait to leave.

Tommy and Amy danced for hours. They danced fast. They danced slow. They danced cheek to cheek. Tommy was doing the box step!

A little while later, he took a break and said to Nicky, “I haven't seen you out there. What's the deal?”

“Just don't feel like it, I guess,” Nicky said. “I've been talking to Donna.”

“Talking
to her? Dance with her!”

“Maybe in a while,” Nicky said.

Around ten-thirty, just as Nicky and Donna were going back to the bar for another cold drink, the door opened. There, with a blast of chilly air, were Peter Van Allen, his wife and their son, Dirk.

Nicky couldn't run. He couldn't hide. He said, “Oh, good evening, Mr. Van Allen, Mrs. Van Allen. Come in.”

“Hello, young man,” Mr. Van Allen said, nodding at Nicky and Donna. “And young lady. We're sorry to arrive so late, and unfortunately we can't stay. We just dropped by to wish your parents a happy new year. Say hello, Dirk.”

“Hello, Nicholas,” Dirk said in a singsong voice. “Are you having a happy new year?”

“The best,” Nicky said. “I'll go get my mom and dad.”

Nicky got his mom, found his dad and told them that the Van Aliens were there.

Tommy was standing in the living room, staring at Peter Van Allen. Nicky whispered, “What's wrong?”

“It's so weird,” Tommy whispered. “Like, we might be looking at a killer. He doesn't look dangerous at all.”

“Well, stop staring,” Nicky said, and then noticed Peter Van Allen looking at them. He cleared his throat and said, “I'm going to see if Donna's okay.”

He found Donna again and was about to ask her if she wanted to try a dance when he saw Dirk Van Allen coming across the living room. Dirk looked angry. Nicky turned to see where he was going. He was heading for the backyard. Through the window, Nicky could see Amy and Tommy slow dancing under the tent.

Nicky got there about the same time Dirk did. The music had just ended. Tommy and Amy were clapping.

Dirk said, “You. You're a dead man. And you, come on. You're leaving.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Amy said.

“You're leaving
now,”
Dirk said. “And I'm taking care of
you
later.”

“Anytime you want, including right here and right now,” Tommy said. “But she's staying.”

“Listen to me, you little Brooklyn—”

“You've tented the whole thing!” a loud voice said behind them.

They all turned. Nicky's father and mother were leading the Van Aliens on a tour of the tented backyard.

“Are the heaters electric?” Mrs. Van Allen asked.

“Gas,” Nicky's father said. “Very powerful, too.”

“I
feel
it,” she said. “And look at everyone dancing! What a marvelous party!”

“We were just going inside, actually,” Nicky said. “We're going to get a little more punch.”

“Yeah, Dirk,” Tommy said. “How'd
you
like a little punch?”

“None for me!” Peter Van Allen said. “We've already drunk the legal limit. Come, Dirk. Any more ‘punch’ and
you'll
have to drive us home. Say good night to your friends.”

Dirk turned to Nicky and Tommy. He gritted his teeth and made a sound like a dog growling.

“Good night, Dirky,” Tommy said. “See you soo-oon.”

Midnight came. The adults all grabbed hats and hooters. They held hands. They turned off the music. They all started counting down: “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six …”

Tommy and Amy had disappeared. Nicky smiled weakly at Donna, who reached over and took his hand.

“Three! Two! One!”

The lights went out. Horns blew. Hooters hooted. Someone screamed. Music started: “Should old acquaintance be forgot …”

And there, in the dark, in the crowd of yelling, hooting adults, Nicky felt something warm and sweet on his cheek. A kiss! He almost fainted. Instead, he hugged Donna. Soon they were dancing to “Auld Lang Syne.”

8

E
arly the next morning, Nicky was in the kitchen helping his grandma Tutti make
zeppoli.
They were rolling out the dough when Uncle Frankie stumbled into the room.

“Happy new year,” he said in a grumpy voice, and gave Grandma Tutti a kiss.

“You're here early,” Grandma Tutti said.

“I'm here
late,”
Frankie said. “I stayed up half the night and slept on the couch. You got coffee?”

“I'll make coffee.”

Nicky went outside to get the newspaper and came back clapping his hands together from the cold. Frankie sipped his coffee and read the headlines.

“Look at this,” he said. “Your old man made the news. There's something about his real estate thing.”

Nicky's heart began to pound. Then he looked at the headline: REDEVELOPMENT PLAN FOR FAIRPORT. He relaxed and read the beginning of the story: “A team of investors headed by Peter Van Allen and local lawyer Nicholas Borelli has obtained financing to turn historic downtown Fairport into a haven for artists and middle-income metro families. By Monday, the new condominium project …”

Frankie, reading over his shoulder, said, “You know what's interesting? They say who your dad is, but they only give Van Allen's name. Why's that?”

“Nobody needs to be told who Peter Van Allen is,” Nicky said. “You just say the name.”

“So your old man gets second billing,” Frankie said. “Hey, there's also something in here about that dance of yours, that Snow Cone thing.”

“Snow Ball,” Nicky said. “It's Sunday night.”

“You got a date?”

“Donna, I guess,” Nicky said, “if her parents will let her.”

“And what about Tommy?” Grandma Tutti asked. “Who's he gonna ask?”

“He's going with Amy Galloway,” Nicky said.
“She
asked
him
, last night, at midnight.”

“Whoa!” Frankie said. “These Carrington girls are pretty fast!”

“Not all of them,” Nicky said. “Just Amy.”

“And her mother,” Frankie said. “She asked me.”

“To the Snow Ball?”

“Yeah. I said yes.”

“So you can double-date,” Grandma Tutti said. “Now get up and come help me, Nicky. The oil's hot. We gotta fry the
zeppoli.”

“I'm sorry to miss 'em, but I gotta go,” Frankie said. On his way out, he added, “Hey, Nicky D, don't let your folks be late tonight, right? They get there after seven, all the food'll be gone.”

“Okay,” Nicky said.

Tommy got up a little while later and came downstairs. Grandma Tutti served him a
zeppoli
and said, “You boys take that in the other room. I have a lot to do in here.”

Nicky took Tommy into the breakfast room. He said, “Look at this,” and showed him the newspaper story. “It says ‘by Monday,’ right?”

“So?”

Nicky looked up to make sure no one was listening. “So if that's when the Fairport thing is going to go down, then my dad could be in danger
now.”

“Why?” Tommy said. “Oh! You mean, like Van Allen might try to get him out of the way or something.”

“Yeah,” Nicky said. “Or something. I think we have to try to talk to that newspaper reporter. Like, now.”

“He said you could call, right?”

“Or go to the paper.”

“Call, then,” Tommy said. “See if he's there.”

Nicky's mother came through the library as he was dialing. She said, “Where's your uncle?”

“Gone, I think,” Nicky said. “He said goodbye.”

“Who're you talking to?”

“I was leaving a message for Chad,” Nicky said. “He's not there. I'm going to call Jordan now. We're going to ride the bus to the mall.”

“All right,” his mother said. “But remember, you have to be back this afternoon early enough for us to go to Newton. And don't stay on the phone too long. I'm expecting a call.”

Nicky finished dialing when she left, then said into the phone, “Mr. O'Farrell?”

Two minutes later, he put the phone down. He went back to the breakfast room.

“So?”

“I left a message. I left my cell number.”

“Cool,” Tommy said. “Now we can hang out!”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don't know. Whatta you got?”

“We could play laser tag.”

“All right!” Tommy said. “What's laser tag?”

“Let me see if Clarence can drive us to the mall, and I'll show you.”

An hour later, Nicky was showing him.

“You put on this vest. It's got these electronic things on it. If someone shoots you, it lights up. You're dead, and your gun won't work for, like, fifteen seconds. Then you can start shooting again.”

Nicky handed Tommy a vest and put on his own. “So what's the point?” Tommy said.

“It's like this giant dark room,” Nicky said. “With stairs, and walls, and fake boulders. You and me are a team. We have to defeat the other teams.”

“Who's the other teams?”

“Whoever's in there already,” Nicky said. “Come on!”

It took a second for their eyes to adjust to the dark. At first, Nicky and Tommy could see only red laser blasts around them. Then the shapes of walls and rocks and stairways appeared.

“C'mon,” Nicky whispered. “Follow me.”

They were ambushed in the first room. A voice said, “Get 'em!” and the air was filled with red laser blasts. Nicky's and Tommy's vests lit up, and the voice said, “Blasted!” Nicky and Tommy dropped to the ground and waited fifteen seconds for their vests to stop blinking.

“Okay,” Nicky said. “Let's crawl around this way and get them.”

For an hour they ran, hid, blasted, got blasted in return and shouted until their voices were hoarse. At the end of the hour, their lasers went dead. Nicky said, “Time's up. C'mon.”

They turned in the equipment and went out to the food court. “We can steal some more of that lemonade,” Tommy said.

“It's free refills, actually,” Nicky said.