I wish I could say the holidays are awesome and that Great Aunt Helen’s delightful, but in truth, she’s old and irascible, and she has too many cats. There’s a lumpy sofa with my name on it, and I live for texts from Shane, and What’sApp messages from Lila and Ryan. I’m reading one now, three days after Christmas, and trying not to laugh.

Lila: did she ask you to rub peppermint lotion on her feet yet?

Ryan: please tell me she knitted you something

Lila: was there a cheese log? Please let there be cheese log!

Despite my bad mood, I’m smiling when I curl up on the couch much later. It’s so lame, but I actually go to bed with my phone, just in case Shane sends me something when he gets off work; he’s pulling overtime during the break, giving other stockers a chance to be with their families. I hate that he spent Christmas alone. What was it like? Did he make some real food or just open a can of soup?

Sure enough, my phone vibrates just past midnight. You up?

I text back, Waiting for you. How was work?

Sucked. Miss you.

Me too. I wish I could hear his voice, but then I might wake up the aunts. Or Great Aunt Helen might yell at me for being a rowdy miscreant; she’s always saying that about her upstairs neighbors, and that’s an ordeal best avoided. So texting it is.

Seems like you’ve been gone longer than 5 days.

Tell me about it. There’s nothing to do and I haven’t seen anyone younger than 65, besides my aunt Gabby, since we got here.

Only 5 more days. We’re halfway there.

It makes me absurdly happy to know he’s counting the days, too. Yep.

He texts a little longer, telling me about this guy who came in with nine dollars in his pocket and then he had to put stuff back, which mean Shane had to restock it all. He was apparently an old man, who thought his money should go further than that, so he insisted they call the manager. I decide working at the Curly Q isn’t so bad.

How’s the song coming? I type. He’s been working on a new one since Thanksgiving but he won’t play it for me yet. I’ve only caught strains and snippets.

Almost done. Trying to have it ready by Valentine’s Day.

God, I hope that means he’s writing it for me. Sweet. Bed now. Talk tomorrow?

Definitely. Dream of me.

This is possibly the most romantic text ever. I push out a happy breath and fight the urge to hug my phone. If I was watching my own behavior, I’d probably find it ridiculous. But when I fall asleep, I do dream of Shane, and he keeps the monsters away.

Before we leave, I go shopping. It’s cheating to buy Shane’s present after the holidays, but this isn’t a marked-down item. The one benefit to Aunt Helen’s apartment is that she lives a lot closer to shopping. Though this isn’t a city by New York standards, compared to Farmburg, it’s a bustling metropolis. And it doesn’t take me long to find the perfect gift for Shane. Well, it’s a complement, actually, to something I already have.

By the time the visit ends, I don’t hate Great Aunt Helen, but I’m tired of her cats and relieved to head home. We pack our things, say good-bye, and take the bus to the train station. It’s a lengthy trip, which ends in us walking almost two miles from the bus stop to our house. Joe offered to pick us up, but Gabby knows I won’t go.

“Sometimes your principles are a pain in my ass,” she mutters.

That’s annoying. She can go with Joe; it’s not like I mind. “Call your boyfriend. I can go home alone.”

“It’s fine.” But her tone says maybe it’s not.

And I’m afraid of making her mad, but I’m also unwilling to change. This is one thing I can control. So I’m scared and trying not to get upset, as we drag our suitcases up the sidewalk. “You should get a ride. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t both be walking.” She sounds a little snappish, tired from traveling, probably, and so am I.

Hunching my shoulders, I get my phone out.

Aunt Gabby makes an effort to smooth things over. “Texting Shane?”

“And Lila and Ryan,” I mumble, though I was, in fact, telling Shane I’m home.

“Is he working tonight?”

“Yeah. I probably won’t get to see him until tomorrow.”

“I admit, I was a little worried about how fast you two got together, but you handled the separation well.”

My prior irritation flares stronger. “Is that why we left?” I demand.

Does she think that I can’t function without Shane? I miss him. I might even … Do I love him? I have no idea. There’s no precedent. But … he matters a lot.

“No, it was so my aunt wouldn’t be alone. She can’t travel anymore, and she’s lonely.”

“Your good deed just happened to test how well I cope?” I’m tempted to get mad, but I back off the feeling. I can’t get angry. It’s Hulk-ish, and bad things happen when I do. So I wrestle the feeling into submission and summon a teasing smile. “Anyway, she seemed to enjoy having us.”

“Definitely. And she loves meat, so it was a sacrifice for her to agree to a meal without it on Christmas Day.”

The first thing I do when we get home is get on the Internet. I didn’t bring my laptop with me, so I haven’t checked e-mail and Facebook for a while, and I’m behind on my YouTube channels and Web comics. This is why I don’t miss cable TV. We had it at the group home, where I had no computer and no privacy, but I much prefer controlling what I watch and read. Since my friends talk to me on my phone, I don’t really have any e-mail but I catch up their status updates. Ryan in particular is great about posting funny, stupid things. I take a picture of myself making a weird face and then just type cheese log, and tag Lila with it.

Shane texts me late. Sorry I couldn’t come over tonight. Done with overtime now. Have tomorrow off.

What time can you be here? I send back. It will be Sunday, which means school starts the next day. I feel like a miser, hoarding this one final day of winter break. The snow is thick on the ground, so it’ll be hard for him to get here—they don’t always plow out where he lives—but he must think I’m worth it.

Ten too early?

Nope. My dominant feeling is yay! Though I’m not sure if that qualifies as an actual emotion. So I’ll call it excitement. The prospect of seeing Shane is more thrilling than Christmas, even though I got a few cute shirts and a new pair of jeans, as well as a gift certificate for an online bookstore. I guess that means he’s better than all presents combined.

And he’s writing me a song.

I’m up by eight and in the shower, which is extreme. Usually I stay in bed, read, or watch something on my laptop. Not today. I waffle over what to wear, going back and forth between a couple of outfits, then I remember what Shane said about taking me with no top on, and that makes me laugh. Then I put on jeans, a camisole, and a white hoodie with silver writing. I leave my hair to dry naturally while I have breakfast, then I put on a little makeup, omitting the lip gloss.

Shane’s fifteen minutes early, but I’m smiling as I throw open the door. He hugs me hard, drops a kiss on my mouth, then we step into the house. My aunt’s still asleep. He’s got his backpack, and I peer at it. Surely we’re not spending the day on homework. I had plenty of that while I was gone.

“I brought your present,” he explains. “Since we weren’t together on Christmas.”

Oh, wow. I’ve never gotten anything from a guy, unless you count the valentine I got in second grade. “Yours is in my room. I’ll be right back.”

He looks surprised, like I’d fail to get him a gift. I bring the wrapped package out and we swap them. “You first.”

Shane seems like he might argue, but in the end, he tears open the paper. It’s two things, actually: my iPod, loaded with songs that I think he’ll like … and a package of printed sheet music, so he doesn’t have to draw his own. “Whoa. This is too much.”