Flickering Hope Read Online Free

Thanksgiving, now I would be forced to endure another day with Andrew in his current mood. Unhappiness kept me from looking at anyone as we said goodbye. I pulled Higgins into my lap and buried my nose in his fur so I wouldn’t have to talk to my parents on the way home. Telling a secret before it blew up in my face was almost as difficult as waiting for the explosion.

Chapter 4

The List
    I wrote
Dad
in purple pen across my clean sheet of printer paper and underlined his name in green. Amy Grant Christmas music played, Mom’s favorite. The music reminded me of being three and four, decorating the tree, making cookies, squishing sand-dough into random shapes that I called a monkey or a snowman, which embarrassingly still hung on the tree every year. Christmas season had officially begun.
    “Wish you were here, Pips.” Homesickness panged sharp and sudden, and I realized just how much I missed Pips and my friends back in California. As long as I had known Pips, we had sat up into the late, late night on Thanksgiving, dreaming up our Christmas lists together.
    The first time, when we were six, Pippa’s parents had invited my family over for Thanksgiving dinner. All through the meal, Pips and I begged for a sleepover.My parents hesitated, remembering how homesick I had been on my last sleepover, so homesick they’d had to drive over in the middle of the night to bring me home. But I promised I wanted to stay, even when Mom looked me in the eye at the door and said, “Are you sure, Sadie?”
    Pips and I had charged up the stairs to her room, and she let me wear her Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, which like everything Strawberry Shortcake had that magical strawberry smell. Or maybe that was just Pips’ whole room, overflowing with Strawberry Shortcake characters, cars, houses, puff-stickers, and smelly pens.
    Pips, in her pink striped flannel PJ’s, climbed up onto her bed with those smelly pens and a spiral notebook. “Come up, Sadie.” She patted the bed beside her. “Let’s make a Christmas list. Not for us. Presents we’ll give people. Okay?”
    We made a list of gifts, complete with
trip to Australia to see the kangaroos
for her mom, and
helicopter-car
for my dad. Just like every other game of pretend that we played, we slipped entirely into the world of anything-was-possible and spun our elaborate plans.
    After our pages were covered with red and green smelly swirls, we pushed the markers off the bed onto the floor, snuggled under the covers, and closed our eyes.
    I couldn’t sleep. Maybe because I was homesick, but mostly because that list, lying on the table next to me, had me worried. Helicopter cars didn’t exist, and if they did, I obviously couldn’t buy one.
    “Sadie?” Pips whispered, her voice small and sad. “I can’t really send my mom to Australia. I want to give my parents presents this year. Real presents. Not just something you make in school.”
    All my own worry faded. I had to help Pips. I sat up, fumbled for the lamp switch, and gathered the markers and the notebook.
    “Then we’ll give them real presents,” I said, even though I had no idea how to do so.
    I turned to a fresh page, and we brainstormed presents our parents could use. A calendar with pictures on each page. Stationary sets for our moms, with their names written in bright colors at the top of each page and on the envelope flaps. And my favorite idea, keychains made from metal nuts and washers strung on thick plastic laning.
    With our lists finally done, we switched off the light and fell asleep almost before our heads hit the pillows. Even when Pips and I could buy presents with our allowance, we insisted on meaningful presents for everyone. No generic mugs full of candy from us.
    On my updated list, Dad’s name waited with nothing underneath. I wrote the names of my family and friends. Pips had asked for a drawing, back when I was taking art lessons. Maybe I could give her a drawing for Christmas. I opened the new