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again how lucky I was. Then he asked me if there was anything else I wanted .
    I told him I wanted Mom to be with us, too. And he didn’t blink. He said he’d see what he could do. And I believed him. I believed I was lucky, and I believed two Christmases were better than one, and I believed even though Santa wasn’t real, my parents could still perform magic. So that’s why it was my best Christmas. Because it was the last one when I really believed .
    Ask a question, get the answer. I figured if Lily couldn’t understand that, there wasn’t any reason to continue.
    I found the spot on the second floor where they were selling the personalized Christmas stockings, making a wide bertharound the Santa stand and all of the security guards. Sure enough, there was a hook of Lily stockings, right before LINAS and LIVINIA . I’d leave the red notebook there …
    … but first I had to go to the AMC to buy Lily a ticket to the next day’s 10 a.m. showing of Gramma Got Run Over by a Reindeer .

four

(Lily)
    December 23rd
    I have never gone to a movie by myself. Usually when I see a movie, it’s with my grandpa, or my brother and parents, or lots of cousins. The best is when we all go at once, like an army of interrelated popcorn zombies who laugh the same laughs and gasp the same gasps and aren’t so germ-phobic with each other that we won’t share a ginormous Coke with one straw. Family is useful like that.
    I planned to insist that Langston and Benny accompany me to the 10 a.m. showing of Gramma Got Run Over by a Reindeer . I figured it was their responsibility to take me, since they started this whole thing. I woke them up promptly at 8 a.m. to let them know and to give them enough time to figure out their ironic T-shirts and tousled I-don’t-care-but-actually-I-care-too-much hairstyles before we headed out for the day.
    Only Langston threw his pillow at me when I tried to get him up. He didn’t budge from bed.
    “Get out of my room, Lily!” he grumbled. “Go to the movies by yourself!”
    Benny rolled over and looked at the clock next to Langston’s bed. “ Ay, mamacita , it’s what o’clock in the morning? Eight? Merde merde merde , and during Christmas break, when it’s like the law to sleep in till noon? Ay, mamacita … GO BACK TO SLEEP!” Benny rolled over onto his stomach and placed his pillow over his head to get started right away, I guess, on dreaming in Spanglish.
    I was pretty tired myself, since I’d gotten up at 4 a.m. to make my mystery snarly friend a special present. I wouldn’t have minded taking a nap on the floor next to Langston like when we were kids, but I suspected if I suggested such a thing on this particular morning, in this particular company, Langston would repeat his standby refrain:
    “Did you hear me, Lily? GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”
    He actually did say that. I wasn’t imagining he might say it.
    “But I’m not allowed to go to the movies by myself,” I reminded Langston. At least, that was the rule when I was eight. Mom and Dad had never clarified whether the rule had been amended as I’d aged.
    “Of course you’re allowed to go to the movies by yourself. And even if you’re not, I’m in charge while Mom and Dad are gone, and I hereby authorize you. And the sooner you leave my room, the sooner your curfew gets bumped from eleven p.m. to midnight.”
    “My curfew is ten p.m. and I’m not allowed to be outside alone late at night.”
    “Guess what? Your new curfew is no curfew, and you can stay out as long as you want, with whomever you want, or be alone, I don’t care, just make sure your phone is turned on soI can call you to make sure you’re still alive. And feel free to get wasted drunk and fool around with boys and—”
    “LA LA LA LA LA,” I said, my hands over my ears to block out Langston’s dirty talk. I turned around to step out of his room but leaned back in to ask, “What are we making for pre–Christmas Eve dinner? I was thinking we could roast