As asked, I filled out the form and returned it early the next morning. The whole day passed in me taking notes, talking with a friend and catching up with the newest drama. You know your average school day. Around mid-afternoon, a student who belonged to the 4H club returned saying the Benton PTA Board had approved my request and informed me to wear a nice dress, but not too nice. Again the rumor mill started to turn, this time the rumor centered on the going ones at the old Lomond Farm.

Once Joan and I finished our little talk, I kind of started to look for Ben. Once more I had to wade through the crowds of people, somewhere dancing and others where chatting, boys flirted with girls and girls flirted with boys. All in all, it was your average dance. Finally a few minutes of searching, I found Ben by the refreshment table. He offered me a small smile as he passed me the paper cup.

“Have a nice talk with Joan?” He asked as he raised his paper cup to his lips and closing his eyes he took a small sip of the punch.

The gymnasium was filled to the brim with people. Colorful streamers hung down from the ceiling, romantic music filled the air with a loud tempo. Toward the back, there stood at least two dozen men, all dressed in coat and ties. Each one refused to look each other in the eyes as they shifted their weight from one foot to the other. Some played with the cuffs of there suits, other kept playing with there watches. Others just stood there, their arms folded over there chest and their eyes firmly glued to the dance floor. No doubt they were passing around small brown bottles of bourbon around.

Thanksgiving follows Halloween. While Halloween is all about the spooks, Thanksgiving is more about family and sharing the fruits of the earth. It was also the time of year people start playing Christmas music and every shop puts up a tiny Christmas village in there display windows. And considering that was in the south, I think the fake flakes of snow that piled high on the display tables, is the closest thing we’ll ever see to a “White Christmas”.

The bleachers on both sides of the field where filled to the brim with people. The whole school had turned out, with dozens of people waving small flags that had the school’s mascot on them. The cheerleaders where busy whipping the crowds into a frizzy. And thereby the side, My eyes firmly fixed upon the strawberry blonde girl being lead to our side of the field by three Manchester cheerleaders. Lily, Joan, and Mindy were there. The three talked with the other three and finally, Joan escorted the girl from Manchester over to a waiting table where our homecoming court sat.

Once the shockwaves from Linda’s little outburst settled down. Lily reached over and took me by the hand and guided me toward the bathroom. While the other cheerleaders scattered, each one having last minute chores that needed be done before the big show. Her hand wrapped around mine, she pulled me into the staff bathroom. She handed me the gym bag, I blinked and unzipped the bag and there in the bag was the old cheerleading uniform I first wore.

With daddies money in hand. Mom, Lily and I headed to Johannes Malt Shop, Benton favorite and only mom and pop burger joint. Once we walked through the door, the smell of beef patties being grilled on a open flame hit us like a ton of bricks. Once we were inside, mom guided Lily and I toward a table. Once we were seated a women around Lily age appeared. She had honey blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She smiled toward each of us and placed a small paper menu down upon the table.

Lily did my hair and makeup. She wanted to do more, but the chime of the front door filled the air. Mom and dad were home early it seemed. Lily blinked and stood me up, and took me by the hand and guided me down the hallway and then down the stairwell and finally we reached the foyer. And there in the doorway stood mom and dad, see mom and dad worked together, my family was.. I guess you would call us bourgeoisie. We owned and operated a store in downtown Benton ‘Potter Mercantile’. It was among the oldest businesses in operation. And my sister and I attend Benton Academy.

It was the week before homecoming. All of Benton Academy was in full swing, the school was bustling with activity. It seemed every club, no matter there social ranking was doing something to contribute to the festive air filling the hallways. The football players were kings of the school, having just handed St. Katherine’s Episcopal Academy a crushing defeat. If the football players were the kings of the school, then the cheerleader’s where princess. If the cheerleader were princesses that made my sister chief-princess because she was the captain of the varsity cheerleaders.

The leafs on the trees had turned from green to orange and brown. The last of the soybeans and cotton was being harvest and the air was starting to become cooler. Pumpkins where starting to appear in the produce department of Sunflower, and sweaters, long skirts and leggings where starting to replace tank tops, sundresses and bikini bottoms.

The next day was Monday, that meant a few thing. One it meant that my sister had a fresh list of chores that needed to be done by the end of the week. Beside each chore there stood a little dollar sign followed by a number. It also meant I was one more day closer to starting school. Soon those endless days of exploring would come to a end, and once more I’ll find myself chained to a desk.

It was already a hour into my shift. When I was informed by Lily that somebody else wanted a go. A friend of hers, a girl by the name of Robin. That being said my shift had been cut from three hours down to just two. Which in all honesty was fine with me. It was pushing ten and the smell of fresh fried chicken from the deli across the street was making me hungry.

“Just one more hour girl.” Lilly called out to me. “Then you can go and enjoy the rest of the day.” She said taking a deep breath. “Man, you can smell that chicken frying. And it's really making my mouth water too.”

Saturday came soon enough. A hazy mist hung over the whole town, the air was hot and humid. Stepping outside felt like one was stepping into a steam bath. The sickly sweet smell of magnolia blooms and blooming flowers scented the air. Across the street Ginger’s Bakery was putting out some fresh donuts in the display window. A few people were milling about the front of the local Post Office and finally a lone bagboy was gathering up some stray shopping carts in front of the Local Sunflower.

I was halfway through my hot chocolate when the door to the my room swung open. There in the doorway stood my older sister. Now, Kayla was a full fourteen years older than me. Growing up, I rarely saw much of her, save those rare visits around the holidays. So, around three times a year if I was luck, those three times of course being Easter, Thanksgiving and finally Christmas.

Pale moonlight streamed through the window and bathed the floor of my hospital room. Through the haze of the painkillers dripping down into me, I thought the full moon reminded me of a ghostly ship, cut adrift in a sea of darkness. My name is Mark Brewer, I just turned fourteen. Two weeks ago, I was in a horrible car crash that killed my mother and has left me a ward of the state. I’m told by a case worker that my older sister.. Kayla Brewer, who lives in Benton and owns and a operates a Christmas Tree Farm has agreed to take me in. Okay I lied a little.

Chapter 2- Merry Christmas, I Couldn’t Care Less

--- Alexis, December 24rd, 2022. 9:07 AM ---

“Please, don’t leave me.”
The voice that spoke was hollow and frail. It was empty, the voice of someone who had lost everything, trying desperately to hold onto something they knew they could never have.

Chapter 1- The Boy Next Door

--- Alexis, December 23rd, 2022. 7:53 AM ---

“Class,” our teacher’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos and anarchy that is an elementary school classroom the day before Christmas vacation. “Before we begin, I’d like to announce our new transfer student, Gabriel Morris.”

The rest of the room started up in hushed whispers, and even I couldn’t help it.

“Who moves at this time of year?” I had asked the question quietly and rhetorically, only to get an answer back anyway.

“Seriously?”

Inspired by my own "Ballad of the Sailor Suit" and Lainie Lee's Suit Your Self:
 

Pretty Soldier Suit
 

 
by Erin Halfleven