Turning Points

I heard Kit take off her shoes. She slipped under the blankets beside me, and hugged me from behind. "I'm here, Karl."

And just like that, racking sobs consumed my entire body. Kit wrapped her arms around me, making soothing noises all the while.

After a while, my sobs quieted. I felt drained and spent. Only Kit and her warmth were holding me together.

"Don't you have to go back?" I asked, my voice hoarse. It was Christmas Eve after all, and Kit's family always spent the holidays together.

Mrs. Contreras, Kit's mom, had invited me to spend Christmas with them, but I'd declined. Somehow, it didn't feel right—like I was erasing all my memories of Lola Pacing in one go. I'd wanted to uphold the traditions she held dear.

But instead of doing things, I'd stayed in bed the whole day. I hadn't even gone to mass because I was afraid I might start bawling in the middle of the celebration.

So much for tradition.

Kit shook her head. "They know that you need me more tonight."

I did. And I was grateful that Kit knew it without my having to tell her.

"Guess what? I've a surprise for you!" Getting up, she gave me a big smile. "Give me five minutes then come downstairs." Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped and frowned. "Karl? Shower."

I bit back a laugh. Seriously, Marikit Contreras was the best thing that ever happened to me.

+ + +

Five years ago

"Hi! I'm Kit Contreras."

The girl smiled as she pulled out the chair at my table. Flipping long, shampoo-commercial-worthy hair behind her shoulder, she adjusted the pleats on her skirt before she sat down. Hands folded on her lap, friendly brown eyes twinkled at me as she waited for me to introduce myself.

"K-Karl Olivares." Hating the stammer in my voice, I pushed my glasses up my nose and resisted the urge to start mopping my brow.

This was a nightmare.

Interact soirees were a requirement at the all-boys high school I attended. Every quarter, we had an activity with a neighboring all-girls school. It was supposed to be fun. But for a socially awkward introvert like myself, it was pure torture.

I'd been in the same school since kindergarten, so I hadn't any female friends. And I guess that was the purpose of these soirees—to ease us into interactions with the opposite sex. After all, there weren't any all-boys universities. That is, unless you decided to enter the seminary.

During junior year, I'd endured the hours of stilted conversation with the partners I'd been assigned. Dutifully, we plowed through the ice-breaker questions the nuns had provided as a guide. The disinterest and boredom on my partners' faces had been enough to scar me for life.

I knew I'd have to endure it again this year. And over summer vacation, I'd steeled myself to deal with a girl—a regular girl.

But this was no ordinary girl.

Frankly, her model-perfect face and bright, confident air terrified me. Around me, I could see my classmates eyeing her with interest and I knew they'd all pester me for details later.

"So . . ." she smiled encouragingly.

"Uh. So." In a panic, I scrambled for something to talk about. As seconds ticked by in silence, I grabbed the sheet of questions that Sister Alona had handed out earlier.