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Light beamed in from the car window. It flickered in and out across the seats and directly into Noelle’s eyes as they passed by tree after tree, their forms stretched like taffy by the speed of the car.
Noelle shut her eyes tight in an attempt to block out the glare, but it continued, dancing in hues of orange and red across her eyelids.
The seatbelt across her chest was tight, and it cut into her neck just slightly enough to be uncomfortable but not painful. She was too short for the seatbelt to fit properly, but not young enough to use a car seat. Still, she sat up straight and proper, like her mother had always instructed.
Lacing her fingers together, Noelle breathed in and out. She had never particularly liked car rides—not the cramped, trapped space, nor the lights, nor the heavy silence they brought. It was prickly—uncomfortable, like clothes too tight or a blanket too short.
The car hit a particularly big bump, and Noelle’s head smacked into the seat in front of her. From the seat beside her, Dess snickered, breaking the silence that suffused the space. Internally, Noelle felt relieved.
Rubbing her forehead, she shot a faux-annoyed look at Dess. “Stop laughing, it’s not funny.” Although not meaning to, it came out sounding whiny. Dess only laughed harder.
“Girls.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Noelle said straight away.
“We literally weren’t fighting,” argued Dess at the same time.
Mom turned in her seat, setting her icy gaze on Dess. She opened her mouth, surely to reprimand her for talking back, but the car came to a hasty stop before she could.
Noelle peered out the window. They had reached the Dreemurr’s house.
Dad twisted the key out of the ignition cylinder, and Noelle let out a quiet breath of relief once the sound of the engine shut off. The keys jingled like altar bells in his hands as he tucked them into his jean pocket. She itched to exit the car, to unbuckle her seatbelt, but stopped herself. She knew what was coming before they could leave.
“We’re here!” Dad said, with a tad too much cheer to sound natural. Trying to diffuse tension, Noelle supposed.
“Sweet.” Dess sucked her teeth with a carny grin. She made a few attempts to open the locked door, increasingly more rough, until Noelle was anxiously sweating and Mom cleared her throat. Dess stopped, irritatedly turning back to face the front with crossed arms.
“Both of you,” Mom hissed, “especially you, December—will remember to be polite today. It is Kris’s birthday party, not your own. You will act with decorum.” She noticed Dess rolling her eyes, and leaned closer. “If I catch either of you acting up, you will be grounded for a very long time. Do not disappoint me, and do not disrespect Miss Toriel’s household.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Noelle and Dess said in unison, although the latter with more sourness than the former.
Finally, the car doors clicked unlocked, and Noelle was able to unbuckle her seatbelt and exit the car.
The outdoor air was warm and dewy—it had just rained a few hours before. She breathed it in, relishing it over the stale car air. Although an air freshener dangled from the rear view mirror (in the shape of a tree and scented like pine), it had long-since lost its smell. Even its color had dampened; once forest green, now mostly snow-white from wear. Only sundry flecks of green were visible.
The sun was setting now. Only a semicircle was visible; a glowing top half whose bottom was obscured by far off rolling hills. It was a moment until Noelle shifted her stare from the scenery to the quaint house of the Dreemurrs.
It was one of the typical houses one might see around Hometown—two-storied, with traditional scalloped roof tiles and curtains by every window. As Noelle approached, keeping pace beside her father who carried a large gift box in Christmas wrapping paper, she noticed a pie on one of the windowsills. Steam rose from it in sweet, wispy clouds, wafting over an inviting cinnamony scent.
It seemed that Dess caught sight of it too; she pumped her fist in the air. “Yes, yes, yes! Toriel’s pies are so freaking bangin’!”
The door to the house opened before they could knock. Miss Toriel stood in its frame, the warm yellow light from the inside casting her shadow across the welcome mat. “Come on in, everyone! It is so good to see you!” She turned her head and shouted back into her house, “Kris, Asriel! The Holidays are here!”
Then she stepped out of the way, ushering everyone inside with questions about the drive, directions for gifts, and where to put shoes. As Noelle walked through the door, Miss Toriel patted her head. “It is very nice to have you over, Noelle. How has second grade been in Mrs. Boom’s class? I want to hear all about it!”
Noelle beamed. She missed having Miss Toriel as her teacher. “It’s been really good! We’re learning to do takeaways right now!”
“Oh, takeaways, huh? Kris was just telling me about that! I would bet that you are doing very well—you are quite a smart cookie!” She reached down and gave Noelle’s cheek a squeeze.
Noelle felt her face warm. “Um, thank you, Miss Toriel!”
Beside her, Mom’s posture grew a tad tense. Sensing that she would like to talk with Miss Toriel now, Noelle gave her a quick side hug, then followed Dess to sit on the couch.
The old TV was on, playing some cartoon that Noelle didn’t know but Dess seemed to, seeing as she was pointing to the screen and calling out—what Noelle assumed were—names of the characters.
From the kitchen came Asriel, and behind him Kris. Asriel approached slowly, a hand on Kris’s back, encouraging them forward.
Officially, this party was for Kris’s birthday, but in reality it celebrated their first full year in the Dreemurr household. They must’ve not known their birthday when they were taken in. Adopted? Noelle wasn’t exactly sure what their position in the Dreemurr family was.
From what Noelle had gathered by listening in on Mom’s late-night phone calls with Miss Toriel, Kris had a difficult time settling in with the family, and an even harder time making friends. Something about feeling out of place. This party was to help introduce them to more people in town without it feeling awkward. Only the Holidays were invited—they hadn’t wanted to overwhelm Kris.
Noelle could understand why. They were the only human in Hometown, and were often singled out by the other children. Not exactly bullying, but definitely teasing.
Kris only entered her class late last year, and they wound up not moving onto the next grade with their class—instead staying with Miss Toriel for second grade.
Noelle still didn’t really understand where Kris had come from, only that one day, without any notice, the family of three became a family of four.
Even though Kris’s facial expressions were a challenge to discern (something to do with them being human), Noelle could see that they were apprehensive about greeting her and Dess. Their eyebrows were drawn up together, and they gnawed on their bottom lip. Their choppy bangs obscured their eyes, but Noelle was sure that if she parted their hair, their eyes would be locked onto the floor.
Either oblivious to Kris’s discomfort or indifferent to it, Dess sauntered up to greet Asriel in her usual riotous tone.
“Yo, Azzy! I feel like I haven’t seen you outside of school in so long!”
Asriel scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry! We’ve just had a lot going on, you know?”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go play some Dragon Blazers.” Dess turned to Kris, “You can come along too, if you want. And you, too, Noelle!”
All eyes fell on Kris. They turned their head downwards, angled slightly towards Asriel. Slowly, they nodded.
“Sweet! Let’s play in your room, Azzy. I don’t want to play with…” she cast a sidelong glance at Mom, “…adult supervision.”
The group made their way from the living room, through the kitchen, up the stairs, and finally into Asriel and Kris’s room.
It was split in half—one side very obviously for Asriel: decorated in posters, Spelling-Bee trophies, gold stars, and report cards; and the other for Kris: empty, except for a framed crayon-drawing on their dresser.
Noelle studied the drawing for a few seconds, trying to make a picture out of the crude, scrawling lines. Black scribbles consumed the better half of the page—some parts allowing the white of the paper to show through, others so thick with crayon wax that they shone in the dim lamplight. Layered overtop the black were two shaky parallel lines of red that branched off and extended until coming to a stop just before the page’s edge.
Before she could fully work out what it was, though, Noelle was distracted by the opening song to Dragon Blazers II. She scampered over to crowd around Dess and Asriel, leaning over their shoulders to get a better look at the game. In doing so, she caught eyes with Kris, who was also angling themself for a better view.
She offered them a smile.
They broke eye contact immediately. Noelle watched as their hair fell back to cover their eyes.
For some reason, she couldn’t remember even seeing them in the first place.
“Happy birthday to youuu! Happy birthday to youuuu! Happy birthday dear Kris… happy birthday to you!”
Everyone at the table clapped. Dess, of course, had sung the loudest—her voice rose above even Asgore’s deep tenor, and she ended the song with thunderous applause that lasted just a tad too long to be comfortable. Normally, Noelle would be bothered by this—it’s Kris’s birthday, so they should have all the attention, after all—but she got the feeling that Kris didn’t exactly appreciate the focus on them.
Noelle shifted back her gaze to the center of the table, where upon it sat a freshly cooled pie atop a floral trivet. Neatly in the center of the pie, eight candles, all the color red, were pushed into the crust.
Kris sat before it. Beside them, Miss Toriel and Asriel were sneaking excited glances at each other.
Miss Toriel smiled kindly. “Are you ready, Kris?”
They nodded.
Miss Toriel then snapped her fingers together, and all at once with a sharp crack the eight candles sputtered alight. Kris jumped back, mouth open just slightly in surprise.
Appearing unsure, Kris looked towards Asriel. He gave a nod.
“Go on, blow them out,” he encouraged.
Kris faced the pie again, staring at the flickering candlelight. They took a deep breath, held it, and at last blew out the candles. Eight flames puttered out and died.
Everyone cheered, including Noelle. She felt a little sorry afterwards, though—by the end of the applause, Kris was flushed a bright, embarrassed red.
As Miss Toriel went about serving each guest a slice of pie, Asgore and Dad left to grab gifts.
A plate of dessert slid in front of Noelle. The pie looked delicious… Its crust was flaky and golden brown, and the filling was the perfect mix between gooey and solid. A dollop of whipped cream melted halfway onto the slice; there was enough to have a bite of it with each bite of pie.
Noelle longed to have a taste, but she didn’t want to be rude. She peered towards Kris’s plate, which…
was already empty?!
Horrified, Noelle watched Kris hold up the plate in front of their face, and then lick it clean.
Huh, Noelle thought. Humans are weird.
Sweaters, building blocks, various toys, and drawing supplies piled high on top of each other beside Kris. Shredded wrapping paper was strewn all about the dining room—Kris tore open each present like a starving hound to a rabbit; madly, hungrily, like they thought the gifts would leave if they didn’t open them fast enough.
From Noelle’s family, Kris received a battery-powered Santa Claus toy (the same brand as the ones inside Noelle’s house), and a personalized Christmas Ornament. It was in the shape of a heart, but given a smile and appendages that dangled from string and ended in clay hands and feet. A wreath encircled it like a scarf, covered in tiny blinking lights.
Kris had looked at that gift for a long time before moving on. Noelle wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Having finished opening all the gifts in sight, Kris began to push themselves out of their chair.
“Wait, wait!” said Miss Toriel, waving her hands in front of herself. “Kris… we have one last gift for you tonight, okay?”
Kris tilted their head.
Miss Toriel ruffled their hair. “Asgore, could you bring it out please?”
For all the fuss, Noelle found the present to be relatively unremarkable. It was a small, flat, rectangular box. When Asgore set it in front of Kris, it made a quiet thunk-ing sound, like something small and featherlight was rattling inside.
Slowly, Kris moved to pull the lid off.
Although Noelle couldn’t yet see the contents, judging by Kris’s reaction, they must have been amazing. Immediately upon seeing the inside, they rushed up and pulled Miss Toriel into a hug.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Miss Toriel. “I am glad you like it… You–you do like it, yes?”
Kris nodded into her front.
Noelle sat forward, craning her neck in hopes of seeing what had caused such a reaction from Kris. Squinting, she caught a glimpse of carmine plastic. It was too far to make out the details.
After a few moments, Kris pulled away and approached the table. They reached inside the box, hands somewhat shaky, and pulled out… a pair of fake horns..?
Dess took in a sharp breath.
Noelle looked at her oddly.
By the time Noelle looked back at Kris, they had nestled the headband on their head. Cautiously, they felt the tips of the horns.
For the first time since Noelle had met them, Kris smiled.
Not for the first time, Noelle stared at the back of Kris’s head in class. Their hair was messy, but not knotted—frizzy and slightly tangled from sleep.
The two didn’t talk much. Not anymore, at least. Not since Dess.
But…
Noelle reached out her hand, a touch away from Kris’s hair.
She shook her head. After they’d first met, it had taken considerable time for Kris to warm up to her and Dess. But once they had…
Noelle sighed.
Looking at Kris now, she could almost still imagine the horns on their head—artificial, made of shiny, flimsy plastic. Noelle remembered the day Kris got their horns. But clearer than that, she remembered the day they were snapped in two.
She supposed it wasn’t just the headband that was broken that day.
Her fingertips nearly grazed a strand of Kris’s hair. She drew her hand back, her fingers curling in on themselves, tucking protectively back into her palm.
Like always, Noelle let her hand fall back against the desk.
It seemed that she’d always be a coward.