Cory

"I can't believe you burned another coat," Miles said.

"I didn't burn it!" I said, "Mikkel did!"

"Why do you let him do that? You know there are better ways to get out blood stains. You don't have to just torch your clothes every time this happens."

"Well, I don't know. Mikkel kept talking about... he seemed to know what he was doing."

"He's a drunk!"

"Yeah..."

I wrapped my arms around me even tighter. My thin sweater wasn't enough to keep me warm. The air was so cold that for the first time that I could remember, I could see my breath in front of me as I walked.

Miles had been yelling at me all the way from the house and it was getting old. It wasn't even about the money or anything, he was just upset for the sake of being upset. "I don't remember it being this cold before," I said, trying to change the subject. "Look at those lights! Those are different." The shop across the street was lit up like I had never seen before. Tiny little lights lined the canopy over the door, with strings of lights coming down on either side of the entry way.

"That's interesting," Miles said. "It looks like they've earned enough money to decorate for Christmas. Their store must be doing really well."

"Decorating for what now?"

"Christmas. You remember Christmas. We even celebrated it in the Underground. ...or were you locked up in the cell at that time...?"

"I don't remember anything called Christmas. What is it?"

"It's a celebration."

"A celebration! I want to do it!" I ran in front of him and stopped him in his tracks to look him in his face. He had had the same lifeless look on his face all day; I didn't know why. If I could just cheer him up...

"No, I—well... okay. We'll talk to the others when we get home." He tried to muster a smile, but it didn't really go through. He just didn't have the energy to deal with me, so I didn't push it. As long as he was done being mad at me, I could take silence.

We passed the store where I bought my first dress. The day I bought it, the store couldn't afford electricity to keep the lights on, but this night it was lit up in white lights, just like the inauguration ball I wore that dress to.

Further down the way, we ran into Steven patrolling the streets right out in front of the coat store, which was lit up with colored lights that lined the windows and looked suspiciously like candy. It made my mouth water. "I thought you worked further north than here," I said to Steven, trying to keep my eyes off the candy-looking lights.

"Normally I do. I'm covering someone else's shift right now. Where's your coat, Cory? It's too cold for you to be out in just a sweater."

"She burned it," Miles said.

"I did not! Mikkel did! He's the pyromaniac."

"Are you sure about that? You seemed to light a lot of things on fire at the orphanage."

"Really?" Miles said with an exaggerated face of intrigue.

"Oh yeah—homework, birthday presents... You even burned our Christmas tree one year, along with everyone's presents!"

"What?" I said, "That's impossible. I haven't even heard of Christmas until just right now."

"Blocked it from your memory, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Then here," he said, pulling his glove off and holding out his bare hand. "See for yourself."

I held his hand, which was much warmer than mine, and dug into his memories. In his mind, I saw a bonfire. Inside it, I could hear the pop, shatter and moan of glass and plastic. I felt the weight of his sadness, knowing that the glimmer of hope and joy wrapped in colored paper was all gone. The other kids cried. Amanda fumed next to him, tightening her grip on his hand and swearing to hate me forever. The matrons shook their heads with a look of shock and horror. And as the blaze died down, I saw the tree branches snap and collapse—their delicate leaves turning to ash and rising above the flames. I let go of Steven's hand.

"Damn, even your memories are dramatic," I said. "Did I really do that?"

"Yup. You confessed to it and everything. Got a spanking and went without dinner for a week."

"Wow, you got off easy!" Miles said.

"Yeah, well, the matrons weren't exactly into the kinds of torture that the Masters liked to deal on me," I said.

Steven smiled in that way that said, 'I'm not sure how to respond to that,' and then said, "You know, I'm actually glad I walked into you two. I got an invitation to the Rea Estate for some kind of dinner party tonight. What's that about? Are you even allowed to throw a party at the Estate?"

"We're doing what?" Miles said. "Where did you get such a letter?"

"It was on my desk at the station," Steven said, pulling it out of his back pocket. "It didn't say who it's from, but... I was assuming you'd all be in on it together... right?"

"I don't know anything about it." I held up my hands to show my innocence.

"It's Mikkel," Miles said. "He's planning something."

"Well, obviously," I said, "He sent out invitations! Why didn't I get one?"

"No, I mean he's planning something bad. This is bad. We need to get your coat and go home."

"Well, it's about time. My fingers are freezing. We'll talk to you later, okay, Steven?"

"Wait... does this mean I shouldn't come? Or..."

"Do what you want," Miles said as he opened the door to the coat shop, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Miles was in a hurry to get home, so we didn't spend long in the store. As we checked out at the front counter, something caught Miles's eye and he stopped cold. "Excuse me," he said to the clerk. "Does that plaque on the wall behind you say 'Mikkel Gore' on it?"

"Why yes!" The clerk said, "The owner of that new gambling house: The House of Cards. Do you know him?"

Miles dropped his face and rubbed it with his hand. Then he recomposed himself and said, "May I ask why you have a plaque with his name?"

"He's our new business partner," the clerk said with a satisfied smile. "I was a little wary of the deal, him being so young and all, but it looks like his business has been booming. He had enough money to help us dig our way out of a pit and keep our business afloat, so here we are!"

"Yes," Miles said, "'So here we are.'"

"Apparently, we're not the only ones that he's doing business with," the clerk continued. "You can tell which businesses he's in with because they're the ones that can afford these pretty lights, like this." He pointed to the lights in the window.

"I see," Miles said. "Come on, Cory, we need to go. This whole thing is looking worse and worse."

It took us a little longer to get home because we had to wait for one of our friends from the Midtown Station to drop us off at the front gate of Rea Estate. Miles was panicking by the time the car pulled to a stop. Behind the house, we could see smoke rising up to the low-flying clouds overhead.

I could feel the frustration and anger grind together inside Miles like gears in a machine that was about to break. I thought maybe if I could touch him—hold his hand—I could make him feel better. But he pulled away from me and jumped out of the car without even looking back. After that, I had to chase after him as he ran past Steven's police car and around the house to see what was on fire.

"Merry Christmas," Mikkel said from beside a bonfire near the hedge maze. Beside him, Markus sat in a wicker chair holding a glass of wine. Anna stood beside him with a horrified look on her face, and beside her, Steven mimicked the look.

Miles stopped cold, and for a minute, I thought he was going to collapse on the ground. He didn't say a thing, he only stood there, gaping at the scene.

"What's burning?" I asked on his behalf. I directed my question at Anna, figuring she'd probably give me the straightest answer.

Her wide eyes turned to me without blinking. "He's burning all your clothes," she said in a voice that was neither quite nor loud.

"Now you can give the gift of business to this dying city," Mikkel said, "and the gift of warm clothes to each other. Isn't that what Christmas is all about? Hmm, Steven? Isn't it?"

"Isn't what what? You just burned the shirt my wife picked out for me for an anniversary gift!And how the hell did you get inside my house?!"

"And now she will have the pleasure of giving you another one. It's the season of giving, Steven, I'm pretty sure that's what your religion says."

"I'm pretty sure you're drunk and you don't know what you're talking about. You just burned my clothes! Are those my underwear? And my wife's bra! You burned everything! We won't have clothes to wear tomorrow!"

"Happy holidays!" He said above the roar of the fire. "By the way, Cor', I like your new coat. It looks warm." I smiled for him and approached him cautiously from the side. It was clear no one else wanted to get near him, but Mikkel had always taught me that when you put so much space between you and your enemy, it just shows that you're afraid, which gives them a bigger sense of power. Not that I was counting him as my enemy at the time, but he certainly wasn't making friends like this. So I came and stood beside him like a good sister might. He had one last object in his hand, but it wasn't a piece of clothing. It was a book.

"What's that?" I asked him, pointing to the book in his hand.

"This? It's a book I took from Marcel. I thought it'd be useful. And I guess, in a way it was, but not in the way it was intended to be."

"What's it about?" I asked.

"Economics," he said.

"What's that?"

"Money," he said.

"Oh. Well are you going to give it back to him?" I asked, knowing full well what he was planning to do with it. I started to reach for the book, looking to save just one thing from the fire.

Mikkel smiled down at me and pulled the book away. His arms reached much further than mine and no amount of stretching would help me win this battle. "Marcel doesn't need it anymore," he said. And with that, he threw the book onto the fire.

I let out a sigh of defeat and walked back toward where the others stood a safe distance away from him.

"I think I might just cry," Steven said. Turning to me, he added, "Are you sure you and Mikkel aren't blood relation, Cory? Because I'm having flashbacks to our days in the orphanage."

"Don't look at me!" I said, "My clothes are burning in there, too!"

From behind me, Miles came and spoke in a low voice. "Just go take some of Mikkel's clothes, Steven, consider it a gift from him."

"Are you sure he didn't burn them?" Steven said.

Miles started to answer, but then stopped. His face pulled into a look of serious consideration. Then, with a quick glance at Mikkel, whose attention was consumed by the burning clothes, Miles slipped in the back door and ran up to Mikkel's room. I followed behind him, and behind me, Steven came to see what we would find. Markus must have seen us go, because he followed in after Steven, pulling Anna in with him, who complained that the fire might spread.

We all piled into Mikkel's room and started searching his closet and dresser for clothes, but with no luck.

"Maybe he hid them," I said, "He'd do that, you know."

Behind us all, Mikkel filled the room with manic laughter. "We're all going shopping tomorrow!" He said. "New clothes for everyone! Now let's go eat!"

"I don't want to celebrate Christmas any more," I said as Mikkel headed downstairs for dinner.

"This isn't Christmas," Miles said. "This is just Mikkel being an asshole."

"He's not an asshole," Markus said. "He's saving businesses. And we can afford to help."

"Sure, but what about Steven?" Miles said. "He's so poor he gets his clothes on his anniversary."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true," I said.

"Cory! How can you say that?"

"Truth is truth no matter who says it. But don't worry, Steven, we'll help you get clothes for you and Amanda. Mikkel can pay for them."

"I can't believe I have anything to do with your family," Steven said.

"Neither do I," I said. "But here we are."

"Yes," he said with just a hint of despair. "Here we are."