DEFEATISM

20

Even though lunch has hit, people are still being social. The little fake tree has been decorated with ornaments, and everyone agrees that the best gingerbread house was made by Tempest, Callie, and Marcellus. With all of the food together, they make an actual meal. They make pasta for them all, with the pasta sauce on the shelf, and even the people who don't like tomatoes don't complain about the new change.

Elodie and Tempest do most of the cooking. They laugh over pasta sauce, wondering what their grades were on the community psychology exam, which would surely be out if they had access to the internet.

"It might not even be the storm anymore," Elodie laughs. "Fucking campus WiFi."

Tempest wears the softest of smiles, one that feels all too familiar. It's an old friend who felt lost in the blizzard, who through the white snow she thought might not return. The friend lives on even through the cold and the storm.

"Yeah, terrible campus WiFi," she agrees.

In the other room, people are taking turns letting Jerry teach them how to play the bucket drums. Now it is Moonie's turn. After trying the pattern Jerry explained to her, Moonie flips the drumstick around her fingers just as he does, and it clammers to the ground. Maverick smiles at them as Jerry scoops up the drumsticks.

"I think I'm starting to get the hang of it," Moonie smiles.

Jerry's brows furrow. Moonie is doing anything but getting the hang of it. Other people outside of Jerry might be surprised to know that one can be bad at the bucket drums. Surely those people would be convinced if they had spent a second with Moonie. She grips the sticks as if they are rockets she's worried will shoot out of her hands. Her natural feel for tempo is as steady as a baby's first steps, and in some ways just as nerve-wracking. Jerry is worried she's going to knock him in the face every time she goes to hit the garbage can.

"It's getting there," Maverick agrees, his eyes looking from her to piercing Jerry, praying he won't say a word for once.

Jerry obliges, albeit reluctantly.

The other musicians, Marcellus and Benedict, escaped to a back corner of the room to avoid the sound. There, Callie and Marcellus have talked Benedict into playing a pin the nose on the reindeer game. With Benedict up first, Callie and Marcellus have spun him around two times too many.

Benedict juts into the table as he stumbles, trying to find his way, "very funny."

"It is," Marcellus smiles. He and Callie subtly props each other. Benedict gets to the wall, and their jaws drop.

"No way," Callie moves over in front of him, peering at the blindfold. It isn't see-thru as far as she thinks. At least, when she mocks poking Benedict in the eye, he doesn't flinch the way he should.

"What?" Benedict takes off the blindfold, to see the nose perfectly positioned on the reindeer. He laughs.

Not wanting to join in on any reindeer games, Darlington and Galilee sip their hot chocolates on the couches. It's pleasant, Galilee thinks, to be here. Even if these kind of events are too much unless she is behind the lens of a camera, people seem to be okay today. Tomorrow is going to be harder for a lot of them. Galilee imagines that's why the big day was planned for today. People are going to need their peace tomorrow.

Darlington smiles too. In August training, in addition to the fish bowl, they talk about a tandem bike model of leadership. It is not Darlington nor the others to be in front steering. This thing, this looking at maps and calling out directions, this nudging an arm to get the bike going down the right path, this thing he does isn't here today. The idea was Tempest's, the organization of activities was Moonie's, and the décor was Callie's. He just pedalled a little harder.