Chapter Text
The curtain would soon rise on the big night at Eden Academy. All the students in the cast had been there for hours, with professional makeup artists powdering their faces, dorm mothers helping them don their immaculately tailored period costumes, and the stage crew testing all the lights and microphones and speakers.
As part of the choir, Anya wore the same festive robe as all the other choir kids. She quietly observed the runthroughs of the most important scenes, and took advantage of the sprawling buffet that the school had provided as the students’ meal that evening. During the last break, almost all the kids hurried to the long table to stuff their faces so they wouldn’t be distracted by hunger when it was showtime.
Only one kid stood off to the side, clutching the script and muttering lines to himself. It was Sy-on Boy. If he kept sweating like that, he’d need more makeup, and he hated makeup.
“Hey,” Anya said as she offered him a plate of cookies. Papa and Mama weren’t here to see, so she’d loaded up on dessert. “You should eat something, Sy-on Boy.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” he snapped, but she continued holding out the plate. “Oh, fine, whatever!”
He grabbed the nearest cookie and shoved it into his mouth, munching furiously while studying the script again. Anya watched him in silence for a moment. His mind was filled with an endless list of spoken lines and stage directions and little reminders he’d invented for himself.
“You’re gonna be great. Don’t worry,” she said.
“Easy for you to say,” he growled. “You don’t have any lines at all! Now stop bothering me!”
Normally Anya would stick out her tongue and insult him back, but tonight she just felt sad for him. Like the times in the past when she’d caught him thinking about his papa and mama and how they were never around. More recently, he’d stopped feeling happy about his top marks whenever test scores were posted to the board. He had begun to think that they didn’t matter anyway, because his parents never looked at his grades. He was afraid neither of them would show up for the play tonight, too.
But still, here he was, trying hard up until the last minute to memorize his lines. Which he probably already knew perfectly.
“What?” Sy-on Boy said when she hadn’t moved. He sounded less annoyed than before. Maybe even a little guilty.
“Nothing,” Anya replied, and simply stood there with the plate. He shot her a weird look, but soon went back to his script-reading and pacing. Every once in a while, he snagged a cookie and gave her a brief nod of thanks.
Eventually, the lights flickered on and off as a signal for everyone to get to their places. Sy-on Boy took a deep breath and put away his script and smoothed out his costume. He turned to leave, but paused and clenched his fists.
“Thanks. For helping me,” he said shortly. Anya didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing.
“No problem. Good luck, Sy-on Boy!”
Anya and the rest of the choir kids waited in a designated spot backstage as the curtain rose for act one. The stage lights were so bright that she could barely see past the first row as she tried to find Papa and Mama. She resorted to scanning for their thoughts amid the hundred-odd people within range, but quickly felt overwhelmed.
“Are you nervous, Anya?” Becky whispered. She didn’t have to appear for some time on stage, so she hung around by the choir. She turned her head this way and that, showing off the way her expertly curled hair cascaded around her shoulders. Becky was very happy with how she looked tonight, with tons of makeup and a beautiful sparkly gown.
“No,” Anya said. “I’m just looking for my parents.”
“Oh, how could I forget! My dear Loid is here!” Becky fawned. Anya made a face. “I wonder what he’ll think of my dress! I’ll do my best just for him!”
“Uh…” Anya tried to change the topic. “Do you think Sy-on Boy’s mama will be here?”
“Aw, Anya! You’re worried for Damian! How sweet.”
Ugh, her best friend’s mind was just a neverending swamp of mushy romance!
“I just think it would be nice if she came to see him. Since he worked so hard and he’s the star and all.”
Now Becky rolled her eyes. “Don’t feed his ego, he’s got enough floozies doing that already! You have to play hard-to-get if you want his attention.”
Anya decided to give up and simply watch the play. Sy-on Boy’s thoughts were extremely focused. He was ‘in the zone,’ as Uncle Franky called it.
Soon she got the cue to file onstage with the rest of the choir, to sing in front of Scrooge’s house and ask him to give money to the poor. Anya tried to find her parents in the audience once more, and this time she spotted them with the help of her mind-reading. Her heart jumped at the sight of Papa and Mama right in the middle of the orchestra seats. Scruffy was there too, next to Papa!
And on the other side, next to Mama, was none other than Sy-on Boy’s mama!
Distracted, Anya was late to join the singing, but no one noticed. After only a few seconds, ‘Scrooge’ cut them off with an angry wave, and the whole group retreated backstage to the sounds of his complaining.
Anya’s excitement lasted throughout the rest of the first half. She hadn’t been able to see much of Mama and Papa’s faces due to the glaring lights, but she’d picked out a couple of their thoughts from among the huge crowd. Mama was super proud of Anya, and a little jittery. Papa, on the other hand, was calm and quiet. She had half-expected to hear a thousand thoughts at once about gathering intel from all the ‘VIPs’ surrounding him, but he wasn’t thinking about them. Not even about Sy-on Boy’s mama sitting two seats away.
There was a brief intermission where all the kids milled about backstage in relief that they’d survived so far without any big mistakes. Those who still had to act in the second half hurriedly practiced their lines one last time as the staff fixed their makeup. Sy-on Boy was first among them, but he looked less anxious than before. He was still ultra focused and determined, relentlessly thinking about the next scene. It was the scene he had struggled with the most—the visit from the ghost of Christmas present, where he had to look concerned and compassionate toward Tiny Tim.
Anya debated whether to go up to him again and say something nice, but ultimately decided not to. He must have seen his mama in the audience and felt super happy that she’d shown up after all. Maybe that was how he had gotten over some of his anxiety.
Instead, when Sy-on Boy happened to look her way, she gave him a thumbs-up and a wave. His serious expression wavered for a bit, and he actually smiled back for a brief moment before turning away in embarrassment. Silly Sy-on Boy. All this time and he was still embarrassed about being nice. But it was better than his usual mean and snappish attitude, so maybe he really was learning something from this play.
The lights flickered again, and soon the hubbub of the audience beyond the heavy stage curtains quieted. The second act began, and Anya listened to the joyous sounds of the Christmas party at Fred’s house, followed by the pitiful coughs of Tiny Tim as his parents fretted over him. Even though she had heard and watched these scenes countless times in the past month, they took on a new crispness and color in her mind.
Old memories suddenly surfaced of how she had spent Christmas in the past, before Papa had found her. Neither the lab nor the orphanage had ever bothered with any holidays. One of Anya’s adoptive families, the Roches, had celebrated Christmas with her as their daughter. They had already felt uneasy around her at that time, but hadn’t yet decided to give her up. All the adults had put on happy faces and rushed about getting gifts and setting up a tree and cooking up a storm. Christmas is a time to be happy, they had all thought, like a mantra. Anya had gotten a few nice gifts, all of which she had left behind when they had sent her back to the orphanage later.
Last Christmas was the first she had spent with Papa and Mama and Bond. Uncle Yuri and Uncle Franky had come, too. It was the first time they had all been together at the same table—Mama’s world and Papa’s world meeting in yet another way. Papa had prepared a huge elaborate meal, with so many dishes that they couldn’t all fit on their dining table. As usual he had acted as if it were all easy and fun, while inside he had felt really tired and wished Uncle Yuri would stop yelling and just go home.
For Anya, it had been perfect. She had gotten a ton of presents, everything on her secret wishlist (though it wasn’t so secret after she had shared it with Scruffy). And for once, Papa had not thought of the gifts as a reward to make her study harder. His mission had only crossed his mind in that he needed to avoid suspicion from Uncle Yuri.
Anya had been so tired after playing with her new toys and falling off a sugar high from dessert that Mama had ushered her to bed while Papa cleaned up. Only now did she think back on it and realize that she hadn’t said thank you to him. Not just for the gifts, but for giving her her first real Christmas with family. Even if he had adopted her for a mission, he still treated her better than any of her former parents. And she had seen enough glimpses of his deepest thoughts to know that his heart was better than theirs, too.
As Sy-on Boy pleaded with the ghost of Christmas future to give him another chance, Anya couldn’t wait to say thank you to her Papa as soon as the play ended. She didn’t want to stand by and watch him be sad and worried and gloomy anymore. She would say thank you and hug him and work harder at school and tell him she loved him all the time.
“Let the boy live! I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year. I will in the past, the present, and the future!” Sy-on Boy cried.
The final scene began in a flurry of action as he woke up from his dream and leaped out of bed, running past bewildered townspeople in his rush to get to his nephew’s house, only stopping to press bills of money into the hands of all the needy people he had scorned in the first act.
Anya and the rest of the choir took the stage as Bill Watkins welcomed Sy-on Boy into his house. In a moment she had always found funny in rehearsals, Sy-on Boy hugged Arnold and then George—now no longer coughing and sickly—with a big smile on his face. Somehow, his smile didn’t seem forced anymore.
That hug was their cue to start singing. At the foot of the stage, Mr. Larsen signaled the beat with his hands, and the choir burst into the triumphant melody of Joy to the World.
The sound of hundreds of shoes clicking against the floor temporarily drowned out their voices as the entire audience stood to their feet. Then, as if someone had turned the volume dial on the radio way up, the song swelled to fill the whole auditorium, all the parents joining their voices to the chorus. On a whim, the stage crew brightened the lights a bit so that the kids could see their families and how joyously supportive they were.
Anya found Papa and Mama and Scruffy once more. Scruffy met her eyes and raised his two thumbs high in the air. Mama had her arms around Papa again, leaning against his shoulder happily as she sang along. And Papa…he was singing too. He looked straight at Anya and his face changed.
Anya had seen Papa’s face change many times since she had become his daughter. Both his real face as well as the masks he wore. The expression she loved most was when he was relaxed and happy, or as happy as he could allow himself to be. Even when he tried to relax, though, there was always some lingering tension, like he was one step away from frowning.
But now, every part of his face had lightened. He was smiling a real smile, all the way to his eyes. Anya couldn’t help it. She stopped singing and laughed in delight.
The song drew to a close to thunderous applause even though the play wasn’t exactly over yet. Eventually George and Sy-on Boy got to say the final lines— Merry Christmas! And God bless us, every one! —and the applause came roaring back with cheers and whistles and roses being thrown onto the stage.
As part of the choir, Anya was among the first to bow. Mama had raced to the front among all the other eager parents and held up a small bouquet of flowers for her. Anya happily took it and bent down to give Mama a kiss before the next wave of students had their turn.
As the star of the play, Sy-on Boy was the last to bow and got the most applause. His own mama handed him a big fancy bouquet, and Anya could tell he was fighting not to cry. Before he could pull back and bow a second time to the unending applause, his mama reached up and hugged him.
Fat tears trailed down his face, which he tried to hide by ducking his head behind his bouquet. Arnold stepped forward and offered a handkerchief with an encouraging smile. A new round of cheers rang out at the kind gesture, and Sy-on Boy stopped looking embarrassed even as his face had flushed bright red. He smiled through his tears and took Arnold’s hand and raised it high. All the dozens of kids still on stage quickly formed a chain, hand in hand, and bowed together one last time before the curtain dropped.
“We did it! We did it, Anya!”
Backstage, Becky took her hands and they both jumped up and down, caught up in all the excitement of a successful play. All around them, their classmates high-fived each other and hugged, and Mr. Larsen and the other staff went around congratulating everyone.
“Amazing performance, Chairman’s son Damian!” Bill praised, shaking Sy-on Boy’s hand so hard that his whole body bounced up and down. For once, the shorter boy didn’t grimace or protest, and congratulated his ‘nephew’ back.
“Seems like it’s a Christmas miracle,” Becky muttered as she watched the exchange. Her eyes turned coy again when she looked at Anya, but before she could say anything mushy, Anya went toward the exit. After so many hours cooped up back here, she wanted to see her family.
“Wait!”
Anya stopped, because it wasn’t Becky who had called after her. It was Sy-on Boy.
He ran up to her, bouquet still in hand, lips pressed together firmly as he ignored all the surprised whispers and stares that followed him.
“You did great! I knew you could do it,” she said cheerfully as he fidgeted with the paper and plastic wrapping around his flowers.
“Yeah. Well. Thank you. Here,” he mumbled, and pulled the largest flower out of his bouquet. He held it out to her, flushing as red as its petals, and looked down at his feet.
Anya accepted it with a wide grin and threw her arms around him. He spluttered and stumbled backward as both their bouquets fell to the floor. Becky gasped and giggled next to them, and Anya could hear the jealous thoughts of several other girls farther away. She ignored them all, because she could actually hear something coherent in Sy-on Boy’s mind. He was thinking about how nice she was to him even when he was mean. He felt bad that he didn’t know how to be nice.
Strangely, it felt sort of like Papa when he thought about their family versus his mission. Ever since the play she and Scruffy had put on at home, though, Papa’s mind had started to change. It wasn’t so stormy or foggy anymore. It was more like a rolling sea. There were still some choppy waves, and it still ran deep with tons of hidden thoughts. But there was sunlight shining over it, warming the water and chasing away some of the shadows. Pushing back the sadness, day by day.
She had to follow through on her promise to herself and run to him right after this. She couldn’t wait to tell him how much she loved him. She wanted him to stay forever.
But first.
“Merry Christmas, Sy-on Boy,” she said brightly as she let go of her friend. “Let’s go find our families!”