“She’s got the magic touch,” said the mother.
The phone rang just then, and Lester went to the kitchen to answer. When he came back he said, “That was Mr. Watts downstairs. He wanted to wish us all a Happy New Year, and he says if we want to turn up the music, it’s okay with him, because he’s taking out his hearing aid and going to bed.”
We laughed and one of the men offered a toast to Mr. Watts and his wonderful house.
“I called home and left a message on the answering machine in case Dad and Sylvia get home first and wonder where you are,” Lester told me as people circled the table, filling their plates with tacos and chips.
That meant I could stay as long as I wanted! That I was part of the group. I belonged. I’d forgotten all about my braces. In fact, I’d smiled with my lips apart and hadn’t even thought about it.
“Thanks for inviting me, Les,” I said.
“Hey, somebody’s got to stick around and help with the dishes, right?” he said, and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
The evening went so fast—just talking and listening to music and holding the baby and eating—that we were surprised when someone said it was midnight.
We could hear horns honking down the road and fireworks going off in the distance. I went to a window and saw snowflakes drifting down in the light of a streetlamp. The tops of cars were dusted with white.
“Hey, everyone! It’s still snowing!” I said. “That just about makes it perfect!”
Lester opened the French doors at the back of the apartment, and we all stepped out on the upstairs porch to welcome in a new year.
Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Including Alice
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