Christmas 2002

They were back in their shared bedroom grinning impishly at each other from behind the closed door. Roger had been surprisingly resigned about the whole escapade. He hadn\'t even attempted to tell them off, beyond a wearily stated, "That was very wrong of you, It Matters." Mello and Matt had rushed upstairs the second the old man had returned to his office.



"He couldn\'t have me for that." Mello concluded. "There was no proof at all that I was involved and I was very helpful to Ann out there. I brought you down when you went hyper and I entertained you when you got bored. That freed her to look after the other kids."



Matt blinked at him through his orange goggles. "Can I have my game now?"



"No! It\'s for tomorrow." Mello hunted through the bags until he found the game and gave his friend the rest of his things. "Now, I need to wrap this up, then work on what we are doing in the Revue. Matty, I need you to stay in this room until it\'s time for Mass. I\'ll nip down and get us something to eat and bring yours back up here."



"Why?"



"Because that way there\'s less chance of you being naughty and consequently being banned from coming with me." Mello pointed to the PlayStation. "You can play that."



"I don\'t know if I want to go to Midnight Mass."



"You do." Mello replied airily, in that tone he got when his decision was not to be questioned. Matt pulled a face at him and went to suspect his things. He half suspected that Roger would have been in and taken something, but it was all intact. Matt smirked, then reasoned that Roger couldn\'t punish him. There would be no-one to watch him in a detention, as all of the staff would be needed for the festivities, while banishment to his room would simply play into Matt\'s hands. In fact, the worst punishment that Roger could enact was making Matt participate in the so-called fun with all of the other children. Mello interupted his thoughts. "Can I look at my calligraphy set please?"



Matt frowned. "You can only look at your calligraphy set if I can have my game."



Mello pouted. "Ok, but just a quick look and you can\'t take it out of the wrapper."



"Neither can you then. Your set is in a box."



Mello bowed his head. "It\'s not worth having a look then. We\'ll just have to wait until tomorrow." Matt determined that Mello was just trying to guilt him into showing his present without handing over the game. It wasn\'t going to work. Instead, Matt up-ended his carrier bags all over his own bed and quickly shoved the calligraphy set under his quilt. The rest of the items lay there like a treasure trove of greatness. He didn\'t know what to open first. The anticipation of opening anything was too delicious. He selected the \'Pokémon 4Ever\' DVD and began avidly reading the back cover. Behind him, there was a rustling of plastic. Matt tore himself away from his own things to see what Mello was up to. He was trying on a white jacket in the mirror, pulling his bobbed hair up so it draped over the small collar. He caught Matt watching and flashed a smile in the mirror. "Do you think it suits me?"



"I think you look really good!" Matt gushed, then coloured quickly. He didn\'t even know why he was blushing. He hurriedly turned back to his bed and stared down at the Harry Potter luminous wand keyring. It supposedly lit up when you touched it and that was really cool. Matt opened the pack. It wasn\'t a bad thing to think your best friend looked good, he reasoned. It was just being a good friend. After all, he would tell Mello if he looked bad. He would be able to think that without it being an issue, so the opposite reaction should be fine too. Matt felt himself burn crimson again, so quickly shook out the wand and tested itagainst his hand. It didn\'t light up, so he looked for an on switch.



"Thank you." Mello whispered suddenly, so quietly that Matt barely heard him.



"Huh?"



Mello span around, posing in his new jacket. "Right, enough of this. We need to work on our part in the Revue."



"Awww, Mello. I don\'t want to be in it."



"You have to be." Mello picked up a pad and pen. "Everyone has to be." The Revue was part of the afternoon festivities on Christmas Day in Wammy\'s House. Every child contributed something. Some sang; some gave a reading; some acted out a play or a monologue; but it could really be anything. The emphasis was on seasonal and entertaining. The only real rule was that it was in the English language. Mello loved the event. Matt detested it with a passion. "We have to think of something spectacular. It has to be better than anything that the others could come up with."



Matt had returned his attention to the horde on his bed. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that a response was required. "Why?"



"Because Mr Wammy might be watching via a webcam and who is Mr Wammy with? L."



"I doubt the Revue will count towards the rankings." Matt replied distantly.



"This is Wammy\'s House. Everything counts towards the rankings." Mello commented darkly. "Are we doing something separately or together? If it\'s together, you have to put some effort into it."



"Separately then." Matt wondered precisely how many years they would have to go through this charade. Every year, he put less and less thought into his part of the Revue and still he was expected to participate. It must be as excruciating for those watching as it was for him being there. Common sense ought to have prevailed by now. Mr Wammy should just have ordered Roger to take Matt off the bill for everyone\'s sakes. He was vaguely aware of Mello pacing and wasn\'t sure if his room-mate was thinking or just showing off his new jacket. "I might just go on stage with my Gameboy and play a level of Digimon and come off. At least one person in the room will be entertained, which is one up from every other year."



Mello paused to look at him. "You will not."



"I might."



"Just sing a carol or something, Matt. One verse of \'Silent Night\', it will suffice. Ok?"



"I can\'t sing."



"Yes, you can. No-one can hear you because you do it quietly, but I\'ve heard you." Mello was smiling when Matt looked at him. "I\'ve heard you sing lots. You sing along to the theme song for Pokémon and other stuff. You only sing when you think no-one is listening or you\'re so carried away that you forget to be yourself. You have a nice voice."



Matt chose to ignore him. This line of conversation was going to end in Mello trying to talk Matt into singing something that complemented whatever the blond was planning to do for his own section. Singing! Matt would rather slit his own throat live on stage. It would be seasonal. Many winter solstice celebrations had their roots in ritual sacrifice. Red blood in the white snow, appeasing the Gods to make summer come again. It was alright now, in proper houses with supermarkets down the road, but humans beings remembered their ancient history deep inside in primal fears. Their instincts recalled a time when midwinter meant exposure to freezing conditions and scarcity of food. It was death or the last desperate acts of those about to die. That\'s was midwinter was. He was not going to sing in front of anyone.



He sorted through his new screensaver and skins pack and his spirits gradually rose again. Matt chose Mario, of course, because that was where his first loyalties lay. It felt somehow treacherous to pick another character to adorn either his computer or his game players. He pulled off the protective layer and carefully applied the skin to the top of his GA, smoothing out the air bumps before they could be forever trapped. It looked great and Matt grinned. He picked up the wand again and moved the little switch. It glowed between his fingers. It was the coolest thing that Matt had ever seen. He tried it a couple more times, delighting in the way it worked.



"You could read a poem."



Matt blinked. "What?"



Mello sighed. "In the Revue. How about I find one for you?"



Matt tried to hold onto the feeling engendered by his new things. He felt it slipping underneath the dull coldness of reality. He closed his eyes and nodded once. "Yes, find me a poem." It was too late. The wand was just a three inch piece of plastic in his hand.