On Wednesday Juliet and Andy had their last tutoring session before Christmas. Their time was spent mostly going over notes before Andy took a practice quiz Juliet had made for him while she did her math homework. She had one of the pencil toppers on her pencil. A dragonfly. Purple and blue and green with little see though wings.
"You're usin' a pencil topper." Andy murmured.
"I am. I think this one's my favorite."
"'S pretty. Like you. Pretty dragonfly." He blushed red when he realized he'd said that out loud.
"Thank you." He nodded and went back to his history quiz. Juliet's face was pink and she was smiling. There was no doubt. She had a crush on Andy. The first crush she'd had in a long time. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have feelings for someone. Especially feelings this strong.

———

Andy almost made it to Christmas break without getting beat up, but Friday, after school he pushed the bathroom door open and hit Justin. Justin wasn't happy. That was worst beating yet. His nose was bleeding and his left leg hurt to the point that he couldn't bend it. He sat in the bathroom and cried until Chris texted him asking where he was. When he got in the car he refused to talk to Chris. It was moments like that that made Chris realize he barely knew Andy. Andy confided in Amy about everything and hardly gave Chris a second glance. And it was no one's fault but his own. He hadn't been there before, why would he be there now. It all came down to the harsh reality that Andy didn't know Chris well enough to trust him like he trusted Amy. So they pretended that the bruises didn't exist, that Andy wasn't limping and that there wasn't blood on his face. At the hospital Andy went and cleaned himself up in the bathroom while Amy shot question after question at Chris, who didn't know anything. Amy's parents were out doing some last minute Christmas shopping. When Andy came back Chris went for a walk, per Amy's request, and Amy had Andy sit down in the chair beside her bed.
"What-happened?"
"H-hit 'im with the door. Didn' mean too. Too. Too. Too. Too." Andy mumbled.
"Hit who-honey?"
"J-j-justin." It was quiet Amy almost missed it.
"Is that- who's been hurting-you?" Andy nodded, eyes tearing up again. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He gasped at the pain that shit through his head when he did that. He was getting a headache. He dropped his head onto the edge of the bed and cried. Amy didn't know what to do or how to help him. When he was little and got upset she would sing to him, but sadly that was no longer a reality. She too began to cry. Without thinking she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. It was greasy and tangled, evidence that he didn't shower as often as he should have. Feeling her finger sin his hair Andy flinched and sat up. Amy pulled her hand away and brushed the tears off his face gently.
"I'm sorry." She said. Andy pulled away from her touch and sniffed again. He began running the inseam of his jeans under his fingernails.

———

Two hours later Andy was in better spirits. Amy had turned on soft, instrumental music and Andy was drawing. Amy's parents had gotten back a short while earlier. Neither of them had spoken to Andy. And Grandma hadn't spoken to Chris since their argument. So it shocked Andy when his grandma sat down beside him and watched him draw.
"You're very good." She said softly. Andy nodded and signed,
Thank you. Grandma looked at Amy, confusion covering her features.
"He said-thank you."
"Ah. You're welcome." She watched quietly as he finished drawing Batman. "Do you have others?" He nodded and flipped to the front of the notebook. A drawing of a castle, albeit not a very good one, filled the page.
"Emerson helped me." He mumbled.
"Who's Emerson?" Grandma asked.
"Friend." She nodded and turned the pages. Drawings filled very page of the notebook. Mostly Batman and things related to Batman, but the occasional building or cartoon character and band logo could be found as well. 
"You're very talented." Andy sighed thank you again. This time adding the word grandma to the end. Grandma stared at him in confusion.
"That was the-word grandma." Amy told her.
"Oh." She gave Andy back his notebook and smiled. "I'm sorry about the other day. I had no right to say those things. I'm sorry."
"'S okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." And no more was said on the subject.

———

Before Andy knew it Christmas was only two days away. The hospital was decorated with trees, lights, tinsel, mistletoe and all sorts of other things. His mom's room had a small artificial tree that sat on the table and was now surrounded with presents. Christmas music played almost nonstop and he, Chris and his grandparents didn't leave unless absolutely necessary. His grandparents left at night to go back to their hotel room, but Andy and Chris slept at the hospital with Amy. They didn't want to leave her alone. Every minute was spent in the hospital with Amy. They watched movies, played games, built puzzles, listened to music. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Amy was dying.

———

Andy spent most of his time drawing and avoiding looking at Amy. He was in denial. He wasn't going to lose her. It wasn't possible. And yet it was very clear that Amy didn't have much longer. No one said anything about it, but they all knew. The knowledge that Amy was dying hung heavy in the air. It filled Andy's lungs like smoke and made him choke when he thought about it. It burned and blistered and there was nothing he could about it.

———

Christmas came like Christmas does. The morning was bright, soft piles of snow covered everything and Amy's room smelled of cinnamon rolls. It was common knowledge that Mercy Health had the best cinnamon rolls in the city. And that was what they had for breakfast on Christmas morning. The five of them ate cinnamon rolls and opened presents and told stories of Christmases past until the afternoon when they had dinner. Not the best Christmas dinner they'd had, by far, but they had it together and they had it with Amy. They watched Christmas movies and ate candy. It was solemn Christmas. As Christmases spent in the hospital often are, but it was filled with memories. Some of the last memories of Amy they would get.
That night Andy gave hugs to every member of his family. No complaints, no fidgeting, no fighting, no flinching. Brief hugs to his grandparents and Chris. But a long hug, one that spoke millions of words Andy couldn't find, was given to Amy. And she held tightly. Trying with everything in her not to cry. Not on Christmas. He kissed her cheek and whispered that he loved her before letting go and curling up on the couch to go to sleep.

———

Late that night, when they thought he was asleep, Chris and Amy talked in hushed tones. Concerns, worries, sorrows, tears were shared between the two. And although they didn't know, Andy had heard it all and cried along with them.