The Angel Tree Read online

  “Hey, Joe,” Cami said, closing her locker and smiling at him.

  Joe looked at her and beamed, joy from the message shining across his face.

  Cami stepped back looking shocked. “That’s the first time you’ve ever smiled at me,” she said.

  Joe realized it might be the first time he had smiled since he arrived in Pine River. And the first time he was thankful to be here, in a place where wishes really did come true.

  Okay, class, let’s settle down and get ready to see, up close and personal, the effects of global warming on the Antarctic penguin.” Mr. Woodward gave Max a solemn nod. Max saluted, then flicked off the science classroom’s lights. He saw Sameera and Liz roll their eyes. Liz sank down on her seat, clearly ready to use the class movie time to take a nap.

  But she needn’t have been worried about being bored: Max had seen to that.

  Mr. Woodward pressed PLAY on the ancient class DVD player, then walked to the back of the room with his arms folded. Just to ensure the fun lasted as long as possible, Max made sure to push his chair out so it was blocking the aisle and Mr. Woodward’s best path back to the DVD player.

  The screen at the front of the classroom was dark for a moment and then, instead of some depressing film about dying penguins, the screen was lit up with a bright title: The Miracle of Life.

  “It’s a miracle!” someone shouted.

  Energy coursed across the classroom. A group of guys cheered, and the girls shrieked and covered their faces as the DVD Max had grabbed from the eighth-grade health class bin in the AV room began.

  Mr. Woodward rushed toward the front of the classroom but caught his foot on the edge of Max’s chair, and tripped.

  “What do you know about reproduction?” a smiling nurse asked, staring into the camera.

  Several boys shouted responses at once as Mr. Woodward untangled his feet and finally made it to the DVD player. He hit the OFF button so hard the machine fell and crashed onto the floor. “Liz, get the lights,” he shouted.

  Once Liz had flicked the lights on, Max could see that his teacher’s face was red and he was glaring straight at Max. He pointed to the door. “Principal, now,” he snapped.

  Max didn’t even bother protesting. After all, who but him would have thought to grab the DVD when the AV room was left open by mistake, and then get to class early enough to swap out the discs?

  The class began chanting his name as Max, in a blaze of glory, headed out the door.

  Max was stuffing books in his backpack when he heard his name later that afternoon.

  “Max, that was too funny,” Sameera called across the crowded hall. The final bell had rung and everyone was eager to get outside.

  Max grinned as Sameera elbowed her way over, Liz following in her wake.

  “I thought Mr. Woodward was going to burst a blood vessel,” Sameera went on.

  “He was so mad,” Liz agreed, giggling as she smoothed her long brown hair.

  A sliver of guilt jabbed Max at the memory of his teacher’s dismay.

  “Did you get in a lot of trouble?” Sameera asked, her face a mask of concern but her eyes lit up, eager for gory details.

  Max leaned against his locker, his eyes downcast. “Ms. Sato doesn’t know what to do with me,” he said with mock sadness. “I’m just a lost cause.”

  In reality Ms. Sato had a lot of ideas of what to do with Max and none of them were particularly appealing. He’d been given the usual detention, the call home to his parents, and a lecture about how his behavior impacted his learning as well as the people around him. “Do you think your parents really want to be hearing from me now?” Ms. Sato had asked, in her sharp, straightforward way.

  “No, ma’am,” Max had said. Sitting in her office, Max had felt a little like a lost cause. Ms. Sato was right — his parents were dealing with the loss of their home and the fact that their insurance wouldn’t cover all the costs of a new house. They did not need calls about Max getting in trouble yet again.

  But this was who Max was: the kid who pulled off pranks and made the long school day more interesting. And standing here now, under the admiring gazes of Sameera and Liz, it was impossible to imagine being anything else.

  “You guys, look!”

  The three of them turned to see Olivia, the third member of the girls’ trio, rushing over, a big box in her arms.

  “What is that?” Liz asked.

  “My Angel Tree wish,” Olivia crowed. “It came true already!”

  “Wow, that was fast,” Max said.

  Sameera was frowning. “That’s not your wish,” she said.

  “Yeah, I thought you asked for a dress to wear to the Christmas Gala,” Liz agreed, eyeing the box. It looked to Max like it was perfectly capable of holding a dress but the girls seemed certain it did not.

  “No, it’s a million times better,” Olivia explained, setting the box down and opening the top with a flourish. “It’s a compact sewing machine!”

  “No way!” Sameera squealed, clapping her hands together.

  Max stepped back as the three of them began shrieking in an alarming manner over the gift but he got why they were so excited. Olivia was the queen of do-it-yourself stuff, from the scarves and hats she crocheted to the tiny cupcakes she baked for birthdays. Max didn’t know why you’d bother making a hat when you could just buy one, but the cupcakes were really good and Olivia clearly liked making stuff. If there was anyone better suited to start sewing her own clothes, Max couldn’t think of who it was. That was the thing about the Angel Tree — the people who gave the gifts really knew the recipients and figured out the ultimate way to make the wish come true.

  For a second he thought of his own wish, but in the light of day he knew there was no way it could ever come true. He’d been dumb to put it up in the first place.

  “Look, there are even some patterns to get me started,” Olivia said, holding up a pile of papers. The top one had measurements and lines that looked like high-level algebra to Max but he glanced at it to be polite. It was copied from a book called Create the Dress, Create Yourself, which seemed like the stupidest title ever to Max. The girls seemed unfazed by it, though, instead going on about styles and fit.

  Max tuned out and went back to piling books in his backpack. He was pretty sure he had everything but still double-checked the homework organizer Zoe had given him at the beginning of the year. Sure enough he’d forgotten his math book, so he rummaged around his locker for it, then stuffed it in on top.

  “So, Max, where are you headed?” Sameera asked as he slammed his locker shut.

  “I have some stuff I need to do,” he said evasively. Only Cami and his teachers knew Max went to tutoring two afternoons a week and Max aimed to keep it that way.

  He slung his backpack over his shoulder and began walking down the hall with the three girls.

  “See you later, then,” Liz said as the three of them headed out into the icy afternoon.

  “See you,” Max said. The girls were hugging their coats tight and hurrying down the sidewalk but Max took his time walking into town. He loved Pine River winters — he found them refreshing, like pouring a cooler of ice water over his head after flag football practice.

  Plus Max, like everyone else in town, loved Christmas and the lead-up to it. Every Wednesday through Saturday night in December, town officials brought cocoa and hot cider to Dobb’s Hill, where there was midnight sledding (it ended at nine but “nine o’clock sledding” didn’t sound as cool, Max figured). And there was a Christmas tradition of lighting a candle and placing it in the window as soon as the sun went down. Thinking of that now made Max’s stomach turn. The candle would not be the same in the grimy window of the crummy rental apartment his family was living in now.

  “Max, how are you?”

  Max turned and saw Alma Sanchez, her curly gray hair falling out of a red felt hat. Max’s mom had been one of the nurses who had cared for Ms. Sanchez’s husband in the last few weeks of his life. After he died, Ms. Sanc
hez had thrown a huge dinner party to thank all of the healthcare providers who had helped make her husband’s last days as comfortable as possible. There had been a lot of teary toasts, which had made Max squirm, but the food had been great and he knew Ms. Sanchez’s appreciation had meant a lot to his mom.

  “I’m okay, thanks,” he said.

  She rested a leather-gloved hand on one of his cheeks. “Your family has been through a lot,” she said, her eyes full of sympathy. “Please let me know if there’s anything at all I can do to help.”

  “Thanks,” Max said. He could tell she really meant it, but it wasn’t like he could ask her for what his family really needed. “We’re okay.”

  “And keep warm in this weather,” Ms. Sanchez added, pulling her coat tight as she walked down the street.

  Max turned on Montgomery Street, then climbed up to the second story of the big brick building in the center of the block and knocked on Zoe’s door. She opened it a moment later and ushered him in. Colored lights twinkled from the ceiling and the mantel over the crackling fire was covered with fresh pine branches, a bright red ribbon in the middle. Her tree stood in front of the big bay window, sparkling with tinsel and gold and silver balls. Zoe went for simple and elegant with her tree, unlike Max’s family who had made new ornaments every year so that last year’s tree was practically buried under a covering of felt angels, sequined balls, and paper rings. This year his mom and Fiona had baked play dough candy canes, nutcrackers, and angels that the whole family had painted. But they never had a chance to hang them because they, along with the rest of the ornaments, were gone, destroyed in the fire. The tree crammed into the corner of their rental was nearly bare, covered only with lights and colored balls a neighbor had given them. Max did all he could to avoid even looking at it and he suspected that his parents and sister did the same.

  “How’s it going?” Zoe asked Max, bringing him back into her cheery living room.

  “All good,” Max said. He walked over to the table in the corner that had three thick Christmas candles on it and began unpacking his school books. Zoe had been his tutor since second grade and this was the one place where he didn’t have to come up with crazy pranks or witty remarks. Here he could just talk quietly with Zoe, get his work done, and enjoy feeling like a regular, normal kid.

  And as he began to tell Zoe about his day, leaving out the visit to Ms. Sato’s office, he realized what a relief that was.

  Tuesday morning, like she had every day before they got Valentine, Lucy’s mom walked her to school, depositing her in the lobby where Anya was waiting. It was utterly mortifying to be in sixth grade and dropped off by her mom, but there was no getting around it, not until Valentine healed.

  But Valentine would heal and that mattered more than anything. The vet had called Saturday morning to say that the surgery had been a complete success. Valentine was cancer-free and once her body had recovered from the operation, she would be good as new. She had come home yesterday afternoon, tired but cheerful, trotting into the kitchen for dinner and snuggling down with Lucy in bed that night. She would be able to come back to school after a week of rest, and knowing that made everything else tolerable.

  The hallway of Pine River Middle School was packed. Lucy could hear the footsteps of all the kids, heavy in winter boots. She heard their laughter and the little sighs of those who had not completed homework for their first class of the day. She felt the heat radiating off the boys who ran down the hall and the girls who pretended not to be following in their wake, their arms and backpacks brushing against Lucy as they passed. And of course there were the smells: syrup from morning waffles, wooly sweaters, damp mittens, strawberry shampoo, freshly applied lip gloss, and a thousand others that blended together into a potpourri that was fully and uniquely Pine River Middle School.

  “Bye, Sweetness,” her mom said, sneaking a surprise kiss onto Lucy’s forehead. Lucy groaned and linked arms with Anya, who smelled like violet soap and peppermint toothpaste.

  “I feel like I’m back in first grade,” Lucy said as they started off down the hall, her walking stick clicking in front of her. Despite the stick and Anya’s arm, she felt vulnerable, like she might accidently walk into an open locker or fall down a flight of stairs. It was only with Valentine that she felt safe walking down the crowded halls of the school.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Anya said as they turned the corner. “No one even noticed.”

  Of course they had but it was nice of her friend to say that.

  A group of boys yelling and smelling of sports socks and sweat ran by. Lucy cringed a little as one of them bumped into her.

  “Sorry,” he called as he sped past.

  “Jerk,” Anya muttered, pulling Lucy in closer to her. “How’s Valentine?”

  Lucy felt her shoulders, which had clenched up, relax at the thought of her dog. “She’s great,” she said. “Dr. Lazarus said the surgery went even better than she had hoped, and it was barely invasive so the recovery will be quick.”

  “And the prognosis is good?” Anya asked, stopping as they reached their lockers.

  “It’s terrific,” Lucy said, a smile blooming across her face. “Valentine’s going to be fine.” She felt around the front pocket of her backpack for the lanyard with her locker key.

  “That’s so great,” Anya said. Lucy could hear her rustling about in the papers that always covered the bottom of her locker.

  “Yeah, it’s huge,” Lucy said. “I really thought I was going to lose her but thanks to the Angel Tree I’m not.”

  “The tree is awesome,” Anya said. “I’m going to put up a wish for a brother swap, to see if I can trade in Theo for a brother who doesn’t mess with my stuff all the time.”

  Lucy laughed; four-year-old Theo was a total terror.

  “I wish I knew who set it up and makes sure all the wishes are granted,” Lucy said. “I want to thank them, you know?”

  She heard someone stop behind them for a moment and caught a whiff of bubble-gum lip balm. A girl scouting out the jock boys down the hall, no doubt.

  “Yeah, but that’s not how the tree works,” Anya said, her voice muffled. She was digging deep in her locker. “Whoever is behind it doesn’t want to be found out. They like the mystery of it.”

  It was hard to imagine someone not wanting to take credit for the fabulousness of the Angel Tree. It nagged at Lucy not to be able to do anything in return but she knew Anya was right. And really, what could she do anyway?

  “Ready?” Anya asked, slamming her locker shut.

  Lucy linked arms with her friend, set down the tip of her walking stick, and headed down the hall to homeroom.

  When the bell for lunch rang, Anya guided Lucy to her locker before running off to her Robotics meeting. Lucy assured Anya that it was fine — and it was — but it still made her kind of anxious to navigate the halls with just her walking stick.

  As Lucy popped open her locker, she could hear the crowd thinning out, a few girls talking as they walked by, and then a lone set of footsteps that stopped next to her. Lucy recognized the smell of the bubble-gum lip gloss from the morning.

  “Hi, Lucy,” a familiar voice said. “I’m Cami. We have language arts together.”

  They did, though Cami didn’t speak all that much in class. The real reason Lucy remembered Cami was her violin playing at school assemblies and last year’s Christmas Gala. Cami had made the instrument sing and her playing gave Lucy shivers of joy.

  “Hi,” Lucy said, carefully closing her locker. She figured Cami had stopped to see if she needed help and Lucy planned to politely turn her down. She was going to make this walk on her own.

  “So, um, I heard you,” Cami said. “Talking about the Angel Tree and how it helped your dog.”

  “Yeah,” Lucy said, unsure why this was of interest to Cami.

  “I have this idea,” Cami said. Lucy could hear her shifting from one foot to the other and realized that Cami was nervous. “And Max is into it too. We want to
find out who’s behind the Angel Tree and give them the biggest, best thank-you ever.”

  “Oh, wow,” Lucy said. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “I’m glad you think so because I was hoping you might want to help us, you know, with finding out who’s behind it and then planning a big surprise celebration to say thank you.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to say. Right now she could barely walk down a hall on her own. How was she supposed to help uncover the secret angel behind the tree and then run around town planning a big thank-you party? Even with Valentine it was more than Lucy could imagine, way more than she had ever done on her own.

  Camilla seemed to mistake her silence for disapproval. “I mean, I know the person behind it is supposed to be a mystery,” she said hurriedly. “But he or she has been doing it for over twenty-five years. Don’t you think it’s time they got something in return, some kind of celebration to show how grateful we all are?”

  Lucy definitely agreed but now another thought was occurring to her. Cami had to have other friends, friends who could see and be a hundred times more helpful than Lucy. So why was Cami here, asking her for help?

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Lucy said. “I’m just not sure how much I can help you. I mean, obviously I can’t see anything and I don’t get around easily. Don’t you have other people you could ask, people more helpful than me?”

  Cami coughed uncomfortably. “Well, actually right now I’m taking a bit of a break from my friends because pretty much all them except for Max are in the orchestra and I’m not —” She paused. “I’m just not hanging out with them right now. And anyway, the fact that you want to thank the person behind the tree — that matters way more than being able to see.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Lucy said.

  Cami laughed easily. “Believe me, if you want to help we can find all kinds of ways you can be part of it. That will be easy.”

  Lucy had to think Cami was mistaken. She had no idea of all the challenges that faced Lucy in a day.