Handcuffs or Jail?

Chapter 24

Elizabeth

Lily's room was nothing like I expected.

After seeing her in nothing but dark, baggy sweatshirts, her reserved aura, and blaring rock music headphones I expected a room much like her brothers: black walls, band posters, clothes and papers scattered everywhere. What I was not expecting was pastel green walls, neatly organized white shelves, and a four poster bed covered in stuffed animals.

We'd knocked twice, but she hadn't answered so we let ourselves in. She was wearing a head mike with headphones, like the kind TV crewmen do, and video chatting with a guy who looked like he spent more time in the office for wearing gang symbols at school than he did in class taking notes.

Kent, if he even noticed, did not care who his cousin was talking with, he just told her to come to the living room. She didn't hear him.

The guy on the screen said something and Lily jumped and threw wide, guilty eyes our way. "What do you want Kent?"

He looked annoyed, but repeated himself.

Her eyes widened, and darted to the computer screen before landing on us again. The guy was gone; he had ended the video chat. "I'll be there in just a second," she told us.

Kent spun on his heel and started walking down the hall, I cast one quick look at her before the cuff yanked me away.

**

Once Lily came down, and CJ's dad went up to his room and dragged him down the stairs by his ear, and Kent's mom put on the 'perfect' Christmas song, we started decorating the tree. Well, tried to decorate; there's a limit to how many people can fit around a Christmas tree at once, and none of the kids were very interested in the idea, so it was really only the adults all cramming around and elbowing each other that were decorating.

Kent and I crashed on the couch, he stuck his feet on the table and pulled his phone out, box ornaments cast to the side, and I watched everyone with poker-faced amusement.

Jasper was ducking in and out of people trying to get through, even going as far as to duck under his husband's legs; Kent's aunt would yank one of her brother's back by their collar and take their place; Henry would shoot out an arm every once in a while sticking them in random places; Kent's sheriff uncle tapped people on the opposite shoulder, then slid in front of them; The grandmas tickled people's sides until they moved enough for them to slide through. It was one crazy swarm of bodies and laughter.

CJ sat on one of the arm chairs typing on his phone, in the chair next to him sat Lily, also buried in her phone, with her back to all of us. Those two could win anti-social siblings of the year. I know I don't have much credibility on the subject, but shouldn't they at least be civil towards each other? I haven't seen them talk once over all the time I've been among the family.

Thalia and Tucker, the little angels, had been playing on a blanket in the corner with some toys their dad's had set up for them. I say 'had been' because they'd snuck off not long ago looking rather mischievous.

Looking at them all chatting, moving around the tree with ease and bright smiles on their faces I couldn't help but see the generational difference. How the parental generation could find such joy and comfort in the practice of an old tradition spanning back to when they were kids. But then switching to look at the younger people in the room, they all had their own idea of what family traditions consisted of.

I wonder what Christmas will look like for this family in fifty years. What will the new supposed traditions be?

After about twenty minutes I was starting to get really bored. The tree looked about as decorated as it was going to get, but the adults were still going at it like Christmas joy depended on it. The ornament appears endless. Maybe when they run out branches they'll start decorating each other- and what a site that would be.