where are you, christmas?

[Lola Rose]

My world is changing,
I'm rearranging,
Does that mean Christmas changes too?

Lola was freezing when she woke up, and for a moment she lay in the dim light shivering, unsure exactly why or what was going on. Then she sat up and realised that she'd tossed all the covers to the floor, that she was lying hunched and shivering under only a sheet after some half-forgotten nightmare, her teeth chattering so loudly that for a moment she worried about what her dormmates might think or say, should she wake them in such a strange manner. Then she remembered that it was Christmas Day, that everyone else was gone. Lola stood and crossed to the window, curling her hand around the sill. In the early light of dawn, it was snowing. Lola tilted her forehead against the freezing glass and closed her eyes.

After a few moments she spun around – pulling a jumper over her head and slipping on a pair of boots – and left the dormitory. She stopped suddenly when she reached the common room though, hiding in the shadows of the staircase as she watched several students sit around the fire, unwrapping presents and reading cards with smiling faces. Lola frowned quickly before moving away, passing without even acknowledging their presences.

This time, Lola didn’t head to the Great Hall immediately. There would be celebration, she was sure, more presents and letters, and while she could easily deny it being her own pride that stopped her from going there, a part of her probably already knew. Instead, she walked a different way. Has no one here outgrown the childish habit of waking early on Christmas Day, Lola thought to herself crossly as she wandered the crowded corridors.

When she reached the staircase leading up the Owlery, she paused, already dreading it as she saw the ice that clung to the steps. She shivered slightly, and pulled a black beanie from her pocket, at which she put on enthusiastically, tugging her plaited hair to one side. Then slowly, she began the climb, slipping a few times, but – guided by the rail – eventually making it to the top. Owls hooted dolefully inside, and Lola ignored them, walking to a window on the far side, and assembling the straw so as to sit comfortably.

She was a little surprised when one owl swooped through the window to drop something in her lap. Lola blinked, glancing back up at it, but she recognised the shape of her own name written on the front, and she recognised the handwriting, too. A small, hurting sort of hope insinuated itself in her chest, even as she swallowed hard, thinking about the one secret she had never told Charlotte, the secret that meant she wouldn’t be able to understand the contents of the envelope.

Except when she opened it, she found a strange concoction of glitter and collages on the front, and inside, an amalgam of pictures littering the inside, rather than words. For a moment, Lola blinked, but then she concentrated, and began to piece it together – the top image was of a deer, clipped from a magazine, and then a tiny picture of herself, scowling into the camera. Dear Lola, she realised with a start, and oh, god, Charlotte had always been so much more perceptive than she let on. The letter was pieced together with images, a language Lola could understand: hearts and Christmas trees, people waving handkerchiefs out windows and teary faces as clear I miss yous, Charlotte telling Lola she loved her the only way she could.

Lola smiled brightly, and hugged her knees to her chest, wondering how a simple girl, a child of only fourteen, could make it feel so much more like Christmas when she wasn’t even here.

Where are you, Christmas?
Do you remember?
The one you used to know,
I'm not the same one,
See what the time's done,
Is that why you have let me go?