Jae Ham
How do you usually spend Christmas Day?
Alone or in the company of your pet? With friends? With family? Or both? Is it such a heinous crime to want to spend significant holidays with people you're not related to?
It is December 22, 2018. Saturday morning. With only three days left until Christmas, the mall has become overcrowded, hundreds of kids, teens, adults, and the elderly hustling and bustling in an ocean of jackets and layers and glossy store bags, like a river of colorful heads rushing left and right, practically shoving and trampling over one another for that big holiday sale at EGG or Forever 21.
"A-T-E-EN-T-ION!" Sage barks out like a military warden or general, which she might as well be, with her deep green beret, yellow hair in a tight ponytail, army green jacket, camouflage shirt, and faded pants tucked into brown leather boots with fake fur trimming. She even has a little whistle dangling from a silver chain around her neck, but she'll never use it, lest she wants to get in trouble with mall security.
Is it wrong that I think she's even prettier when she's acting serious?
While Russell, Sage's moon partner, is smugly standing next to her--also dressed in military prints (he can try to look stern all day but at seven years old, he's not scaring anyone)--the rest of us are lined up like soldiers preparing for war, our posture erect, as if we're training for bloody battle.
The lineup arrangement looks like this:
Me, Emilie Res, Michelle Core, Shane Chess, Preston Cole, Riva
Arrow, Stacey Knox, Faith Flair, Ora Penn, Yasmin Cleo, Mick
Including Sage and Russell, that makes a total of eleven 18-year-olds chaperoning eleven 7 and 8-year-olds, all of us bundled up for a long day inside the chilly mall.
Russell looks up at Sage for some kind of confirmation. "Permission to speak, Sergeant Heart?"
"Permission granted, Cadet Smith," says Sage briskly, hands behind her back while staring ahead. Never mind that several mall-goers and passersby are tossing them strange looks.
I wonder what happened between those two that brought them closer. I've always noticed how Russell gives Sage the cold shoulder every time she visits the orphanage. Now, after three months into the six-month program, it's like they've known each other for years.
All four-six of him, Russell starts pacing back and forth purposefully, slowing his gait as he passes by each of us, a piece of paper in his little hand.
"Each pair will have a name." He stops in front of a specific duo to assign the team's title. "Ate Sage and I will be 'Rage.' Hamlet and Emilie will be 'Jelly'. No interruptions!" he snaps upon seeing me open my mouth to protest the funny endearment. Bro Res and Michelle will be 'Mes.' Bro Core and Shane will be 'Sore.'
Bro Chess and Preston will be 'Press.' Bro Cole and Riva will be 'Role.' Bro Arrow and Stacey will be 'Star.' Ate Knox and Faith will be 'Fox.'" At this, Team Fox high-five triumphantly. Russell continues to pace like a miniature cadet. "Ate Flair and Ora will be 'Flora.' Ate Penn and Yasmin will be 'Yen.' And last but not the least, Ate Cleo and Mick will be 'Click.'"
Russell folds up the paper and tucks it in his right breast-pocket, his face stoic and official as he rakes his brown eyes around the lineup. "Any questions or comments?"
I raise my palm in opposition. "My name is not Hamlet. It's--"
"Didn't think so," says Russell, spinning on his heel to return to his partner's side, the latter suppressing her giggles at my interrupted contradiction.
