The Secret Life of Mary Anne Spier

  Those were just some of the ideas. It was going to be loads of fun for the kids who attended. (And Kristy got the go-ahead to use the elementary school gym.)

  After the meeting, Dawn and I headed home together, though we hardly spoke. Finally, I couldn’t stand it another second. “Dawn, I have to talk to you about something,” I began in a faltering voice.

  “What?” she asked, stopping. The look in her blue eyes was wary. It was as though there were a huge hole in the ground between us that neither of us could cross. I had to try, though.

  “Ever since you’ve come home, I feel you’ve been extremely distant,” I began, not looking at her. Somehow it was easier that way. “It’s like you don’t want to be friends or sisters anymore.”

  The last part was hard to say. Even the very idea of it hurt. What if she told me I was right — that it was exactly how she did feel?

  “Me?” she cried. “Me?”

  I looked at her and nodded. “Yes, you.”

  “You’re the one who’s been acting that way.”

  “Me?” I was truly astonished.

  “Yes! You’ve been avoiding me ever since I got here,” she accused. “You’re never around. You tell Mom and Richard that you’re with the BSC at the mall, but I know for a fact that you’re not. Mary Anne, something is going on with you but I haven’t got the slightest idea what it could be.”

  “You’re right, something is going on … but … but … I can’t tell you,” I said.

  Dawn folded her arms and turned away from me. “You’ve never kept a secret from me before,” she said in a low, hurt voice.

  She was right about that too, but it wasn’t my fault. “How can I confide in you when you don’t even seem like the same Dawn?”

  Her mouth fell open and she looked as if I’d just tossed cold water on her, but I wasn’t going to back down. I felt what I felt. “It’s true!” I insisted. “You act like you’re some superior high school kid now and the rest of us are just twerpy middle school nerds.”

  “I do not!”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You don’t know what I act like. You haven’t been around to know anything about how I feel and what I’m thinking.” She spoke fast and her face was becoming flushed with anger. “You’re so busy with your secret life — whatever that’s about — that you don’t even know I’m here. I might as well have stayed in California.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I began to cry. “Well, you don’t know what I’ve been dealing with.”

  Softening, she put her hand on my arm. “Then tell me,” she said gently. “Why are you shutting me out?”

  “All right! I’ll tell you,” I cried, brushing away my tears. “I’m an elf!”

  Dawn frowned. “What?”

  “It’s true. I’m an elf. I was standing right next to you at Winter World yesterday.”

  A bemused smile formed on Dawn’s lips. “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s not funny,” I said. Then I tearfully told her the entire story. “I’m so tired, Dawn,” I said. “You can’t imagine.”

  “And you didn’t tell anyone?” she asked. “Not even Logan?”

  “Especially not him. It would have been too embarrassing.”

  Dawn put her arm around me and hugged me. “Mary Anne, I had no idea you were such a nut,” she said.

  “I’m not a nut,” I protested indignantly, wiping my eyes.

  “Sure you are. Why didn’t you tell somebody?”

  “It’s embarrassing and I figured I could just handle it myself and no one had to know.”

  “Well, that’s nutty. Your friends might have made some jokes but it’s not that embarrassing. They could have helped you out. At least you’d have been able to talk about it. Look at the trouble your secrecy caused. I was holding back with you because I felt you were holding back with me — and you were.”

  “But so were you,” I replied.

  “I know,” she said. “Things haven’t been so easy for me either. I only realized it the other day, but being with the high school kids makes me feel sort of pressured. I’ve been so relaxed here since I came back that I finally noticed the difference. With the older kids you always feel like you have to act cool and not seem like a twerp. That’s become a habit and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

  “You were doing it,” I said sullenly.

  “I guess so,” she admitted. “But I stopped once I relaxed after the first day or so. Only you weren’t around to notice.”

  I laughed. It was all so silly! And I felt so happy that it had been a misunderstanding, instead of a giant rift between Dawn and me.

  We started walking again. For the first time in days I felt light and happy. I apologized for not taking Dawn into my confidence, then told her about life as an elf. “It sounds like fun,” she commented.

  “Sometimes it is and sometimes it’s not.” I told her about the heat and heaviness of the mask, about Ms. Cerasi’s watchful eye, about having to comfort the crying kids who were freaked out by Santa.

  I told her, too, about Angela. “I think of her walking around alone on Christmas Day and I feel so terrible.”

  “Invite her to our house,” Dawn suggested, as if the idea should have been obvious.

  And it should have been. My brain was so worn out and muddled I hadn’t thought of it, though. “What a great idea,” I cried. “Do you think Dad and your mom would mind?”

  “Why should they?”

  She was right. “I can’t wait to get home and ask them,” I said, picking up my pace.

  Luckily, when we arrived home both Dad and Sharon were in the living room on the couch, reading the greeting cards they’d received that day. Without mentioning my secret job, I told them I knew a girl who’d been kicked out of her home and that I’d like to invite her for Christmas. “She’s not a problem kid or anything,” I explained. “Her parents just don’t understand her.”

  “I don’t know,” Dad said. “There must be some reason her parents are unhappy with her. I’m not sure I want you associating with someone who can’t get along in her own home.”

  “Mary Anne and I really want to do this,” Dawn said. “Don’t you think it’s the right thing? I mean it’s Christmas, after all.”

  “Richard,” Sharon began, “do you remember how my parents felt about you when you were young? They sent me all the way to California just to get me away from you.”

  Dad grew slightly red at the temples. “Yes … well … in that case, they happened to be … misguided.”

  “Angela’s parents are … misguided too,” I said.

  “It can’t hurt to be kind to someone with nowhere to go on Christmas,” Sharon said. She held out a greeting card to him that read: PEACE ON EARTH AND GOOD WILL TO ALL.

  “Oh, all right. It is Christmas,” Dad said, with a smile. “Invite your friend, Mary Anne.”

  “Yesss!” I cried, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you. I feel so much better about everything now!”

  In fact, I felt wonderful!

  Angela wouldn’t spend a lonely Christmas. I couldn’t wait to get to work tomorrow and tell her.

  But more than anything, I was happy I’d told Dawn the truth. I had my sister back, and that felt so good I couldn’t stop smiling.

  On the day before Christmas Eve — while I was putting in my final shift as an elf — the BSC members busily set up for Santa-Hanukkah-Kwanzaa Town. I’d promised to help out the minute I could get to the elementary school. (I’d told a small lie and admitted I’d taken a part-time job at the mall, only I said I was working in the office.)

  As you might imagine, Kristy was in hyper-drive mode, determined to make everything perfect by the time people entered the gym. While everyone else was setting up their booths, she raced around, a one-girl decorating committee.

  She tacked up tissue-paper wreaths she’d made with her stepsister and stepbrother. Over the doorway she looped paper chains that she’d made with the Barrett-DeWitt kids one afternoon.


  She was surprised when her stepdad and her mother showed up early, carrying a big Christmas tree between them. “We wanted to donate this,” Watson said, propping up the tree in a stand he’d bought. “We have a box of ornaments in the car. Your mom and I will put them up.”

  “No, let the kids do it when they get here,” Kristy suggested, always thinking. “They like doing that.”

  At exactly four o’clock, the moment we’d said we’d open, people began to arrive. Soon the booths were bustling. Jessi scurried back and forth between her two booths. One gave out information about Kwanzaa and sold raffle tickets to win a decorated basket of fruit, vegetables, cheese, and crackers. The basket had been assembled from donated items. It represented the aspect of Kwanzaa that celebrates the harvest. We also put Kwanzaa candles in the basket to go with the lighting of the kinara, a Kwanzaa tradition.

  Jessi’s second booth was the cloth-doll throw. Mallory was next to her with the block knock-down. She also ran the car race (a last-minute idea), at which kids tried to push some of the donated toy cars into a long cardboard tube and out the other end first to win a prize.

  Claudia ran the food concession. Her sister, Janine, offered to help her. They dished out the chili and ziti we’d prepared. Buckets of ice kept the sodas cold.

  Shannon Kilbourne and her younger sisters, Tiffany and Maria, ran a ring-toss game with a set they brought from home. Logan’s game consisted of throwing a football through a tire.

  Abby enlisted Anna to play her violin. Anna, in turn, asked some of the kids from the orchestra at school to join her, so there was live holiday music.

  In celebration of Hanukkah, Abby conducted a dreidel craft table, where kids made dreidels from clay.

  Kristy and Stacey ran around and helped wherever they were needed. Stacey was in charge of money (of course). She ran from booth to booth collecting it. She also assisted kids with placing ornaments on the tree.

  Kristy set up a toy-donation box to collect the unwrapped new toys. Later she told me that for her this was the most surprising, inspiring part of the fair. Practically every person who came brought one or more new toys. Her donation box filled up so quickly that she had to run to the cafeteria for another box. “Wow! Everyone is being so generous,” she commented to Stacey. “Maybe they can have a party with the money we’re earning since I don’t think they’ll need to spend it on toys.”

  “Here comes Dr. Johanssen,” Stacey pointed out as she spotted Charlotte and her mother crossing the gym toward her. “Wait until they see this.”

  Dr. Johanssen was truly impressed. “I wonder if we could send some of these new toys to the homeless shelter. Believe it or not, we have more than we need,” she said.

  Claudia hurried to them, looking excited. “The guy who owns Pizza Express was just here with his kids. He told me he’s going to send a delivery of fifteen pies for us to sell.”

  “Awesome!” Kristy cried. She told me she felt so overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity.

  “I guess sometimes people just need a push in the right direction,” she said to Stacey.

  Stacey grinned at her. “Well, leave it to you, Santa’s helper,” she said. “You’d have made a great head elf.”

  Kristy beamed and gazed around. Then, noticing that the tree was decorated, except for the star, she hurried off to find a ladder.

  The mall was jam-packed that Thursday afternoon, but Winter World was oddly quiet. “I guess all the kids have already seen Santa,” Marv surmised as he stood up from his throne and stretched. Every now and then someone would trickle in for a visit. Not often, though.

  By the time I’d arrived at the lounge that afternoon, Angela was already at Winter World. I was so eager to invite her for Christmas that I asked her about it as soon as I stepped onto the Winter World platform.

  It was odd. At a moment like that you look for someone’s expression. Is she pleased? Surprised? All I could see was a grinning elf mask in front of me. Adding to my suspense was the fact that Angela didn’t reply.

  “It’ll be fun,” I coaxed. “My family is nice. You’ll like them.”

  Then I heard sniffing from behind Angela’s mask. “Are you crying?” I asked.

  Her head bobbed up and down.

  “Did something happen?”

  She stepped closer so that our masks clunked lightly against each other. “No. I’d love to come. No one has done anything this nice for me in awhile, that’s all.”

  What could it possibly be like to be so alone?

  Ms. Cerasi approached us and I expected her to scold us for standing around chatting. Instead, she handed us each an envelope. “Here’s your last pay,” she said. “You girls can leave now if you like.”

  “I was scheduled to work tomorrow,” Angela protested.

  “Sorry, we won’t be needing you. It’s slower than we anticipated.” I knew Angela was counting on that money, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  Ms. Cerasi, chilly to the end, didn’t say good-bye, or good luck, thanks, or even happy holidays. She simply turned and walked away. “And so we say a fond farewell to the Ice Queen of Winter World,” Angela joked as Ms. Cerasi departed.

  Marv said good-bye warmly, though, and so did the women who took the pictures. Then Angela and I bopped upstairs and yanked off our elf heads for the last time. “You know, now that it’s over, I’m going to miss this goofy costume,” I said sincerely.

  Angela kissed her mask on its wide forehead. “Me too,” she agreed. “Exploring the elf side of my personality has been very interesting.”

  As we changed out of our elf suits, I invited her to join me at Santa-Hanukkah-Kwanzaa Town. She declined, saying she had something to do at the shelter. “Okay. Come to my house as soon as you can tomorrow.” I wrote down my address and gave her directions to Burnt Hill Road. “You can stay over tomorrow night so that you’ll be there Christmas morning.”

  “That sounds great,” she said warmly. “Thank you so much, Mary Anne.”

  I was happy Ms. Cerasi had let us off early since I wanted to hurry to the school gym. But after I’d dressed and Angela was gone, I realized I didn’t have a gift for Angela. I didn’t want her to watch my family exchange gifts without getting any herself.

  As I rode down the escalator I wondered what a person on her own could really use. She was on her way to California, so she didn’t need warm clothing. What, then? I tried to imagine myself in her situation. What would I most want?

  I noticed a phone store that had opened in a formerly empty space just for the holiday season. Suddenly inspired, I ran inside and bought a phone card equal to twenty dollars worth of long-distance calls.

  I’d decided that what I’d want most would be a connection to the people I cared about. I assumed it was what Angela wanted most too. A phone card might at least help.

  By the time I arrived at Santa-Hanukkah-Kwanzaa Town, it was after six, and things were beginning to wind down.

  Janine had gone home, so I sat with Claudia at the food booth. It was fortunate that Pizza Express had sent the fifteen pies or she’d have run out of food an hour earlier. “Mary Anne,” she said casually as she popped open a soda. “Is everything all right with you?”

  “Why do you ask?” I replied.

  “You seem … different. I don’t know. I’m worried about you.”

  It was time to be honest. I don’t know why I hadn’t been truthful all along. I told her about my job.

  “Wow! That’s a relief,” she said. “I thought something terrible was happening. You looked so tired and faraway. Everyone’s been concerned.”

  I felt happy. Despite wearing a mask and keeping a secret, I hadn’t been invisible to my friends, not for a moment. They knew me and they cared.

  Looking across the gym, I made eye contact with Logan, who was still running his football toss. I pushed my chair back. “I want to tell Logan before he hears it from anyone else,” I said to Claudia.

  “You haven’t even told him?” s
he asked.

  “No, and I think he deserves an explanation.”

  Logan was pleased that I’d finally been honest with him. Like my friends, he’d been concerned about me. “Not telling me was dumb,” he said. “Sure, I’d have teased you, but you can tell me anything. You should know that.”

  That night I made the hardest confession of all. I found Dad and Sharon having tea in the kitchen and I sat down with them. “The good news is I’ll be able to pay your credit card bill when it comes in,” I said, after I’d told my story.

  “And the bad news is that you lied to us,” Dad said.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied sincerely. I was truly sorry I’d lied to any of the people I love. It was something I’d try never to do again.

  “It’s Christmas,” Sharon said to Dad. “And the job is finished, and nothing bad came of it. Why don’t we forget it for this once? If Mary Anne hadn’t told us, we’d have never known.”

  Dad’s face remained unreadable. A terrible quiet hung in the air while I waited for his response.

  “This once,” he agreed finally. “But the next time I learn you’ve done something behind my back, I won’t let you off so easily.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” I assured him.

  The next day was Christmas Eve. I awoke filled with holiday spirit.

  Angela arrived at noon. Everyone else was out doing last-minute shopping, so I was alone waiting for her. “Don’t worry,” she said as she dragged a large suitcase through the front door. “I’m not moving in. I’ve earned enough for a plane ticket. After I leave here tomorrow, I’m headed for the airport.”

  “Great!” I cried. Then my smile faded. “Except, I won’t see you anymore.”

  “I’ll write,” she promised. “The phone gets expensive.”

  I ran to the tree and pulled out an envelope with a bow on it, in which I’d put her phone card. “I just can’t wait to give you this.”

  “I don’t have anything for you,” Angela said. “I didn’t have the money. I’d have liked to get you something.”