18: MY NICENESS DOESN'T EXTEND THAT FAR, JESUS OR NO JESUS

« i realise that i'm the president of this company, the man that's responsible for everything that goes on here. so, i want to state, right now, that anything that happened is not my fault. »

ALLISON'S PHONE rings at precisely two minutes to five on Christmas morning. 

"Fucking Christ," she says groggily, sitting up and fumbling for her phone on the dresser, then answering it without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" she manages. 

"Allison! Merry Christmas!"

"Toby," Allison says, slowly because she's tired and also because she's trying very hard not to lose her cool. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Wishing you a merry Christmas?"

"Could you have maybe saved it for a later time?" Allison hisses into the receiver. "Maybe not five in the fucking morning?"

By this time, Lydia, too, has woken up, and is watching Allison's side of the exchange with sleepy amusement, a slow, lazy smile slipping onto her face. 

"Right," Toby says slowly, as though finally understanding that most people aren't awake in the hours of morning before the sun has even risen. "Uh - yeah."

Allison is tired. "You're ridiculous," she says, but this time there's a lot less bite and a lot more I am still really fucking mad but too tired to do much about it. "Did you wake up your dad like this, too?"

There's a silence on the other side of the line that's long enough for even a sleepy, considerably less observant Allison to catch onto. "Toby?"

"Uh - he's not - I mean - that is -" Toby stops short and takes a breath, a rush of static down the line. "No," he says. "I, uh, I didn't."

"Well, lucky him," Allison says dryly, unable to help the dig even though part of her is already thinking about Toby's strange excuse for an answer, because, sorry, but she is not and never will be in the mood to wake up at five in the fucking morning by Toby Martin, Jesus Christ's birth or not. 

"Look, Toby," she manages to sigh. "I get that this is a very important time for you, but, funnily enough, some people like actually sleeping to a time by which the sun has actually risen, even on Christmas.  So you're going to have to excuse me."

"Right," Toby says again, whilst Allison is busy being pretty impressed with herself for being able to form such coherent sentences at this ungodly hour. 

"Right," she repeats. "Text me later and I might be tempted not to throttle you next time I see you."

"Bye, Allison!" And Allison physically winces, because enthusiasm and very early mornings will not ever be compatible. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Toby," she says monotonously, before hanging up and practically flinging her phone back on the bedside table. 

"I can't do it anymore," she announces to both the ceiling and Lydia, who is still awake, as she slumps back down into a lying position. "He's too high maintenance."

Lydia hums in that way she has that Allison knows means she's thinking really hard, which, no, because it is five fucking am, why is Lydia thinking? "You think he has trouble sleeping?"

"Wait, what?" Allison frowns, trying to push her still sleep slogged mind into functioning even a little.

"Allison," Lydia says patiently, sitting up in the bed. "The guy called you at five am. On a holiday. What does that tell you?"

"That he has no understanding of what is socially acceptable?" Allison tries, watching Lydia as she closes her eyes in concentration.

"No, that he was up at least twenty minutes before, because that's how long people usually take after they wake up before they'll willingly communicate with anyone else," Lydia says. "Has he ever been up this late or early before?"

"I..." Allison trails off, remembering their text game of 20 Questions at three in the morning a few months back that had quickly become a regular thing until the end of the month. "Yeah."

Lydia turns around to look her. "And you didn't ask him about it?"

"He didn't ask me why I was awake," Allison shoots back. "I don't have the right to poke at people's business if they don't poke at mine."

"This isn't people, this is Toby, and he's one of your closest friends, Allison!" Lydia snaps, and Allison blinks in surprise. 

"Okay," she says softly after a few minutes of long, drawn-out silence. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"There's something up with him," Lydia's voice is wavering slightly, and Allison feels a heavy weight settle in her stomach at the sound. She sits up next to her, bringing a hand to her back.

"We'll make sure he's okay," Allison says soothingly, beginning to rub circles in the small of her back. "I promise."

"I know," she manages to sigh. "I know we will. I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"Worried," Allison finishes, and it's like all of a sudden there's something prickling at her skin, concern for Toby spiking across her. "I know. Me too."

They sit like that for a few minutes in silence. Allison can tell that Lydia's still thinking, calculating, theorising and creating alternative theories - practically solving a Math problem; What is wrong with Toby Martin? Show all your working below.

"You gonna go back to sleep?" she asks eventually in a quiet tone of voice. 

"In a bit. You sleep," Lydia says, even though her voice is tired, and Allison nods, deciding to leave her to it. She can still hear the cogs in her best friend's head whirring, and she knows it'll be a while before they stop. 

 ✦

"Allison! Come help with breakfast!"

Such is how Allison is awoken for the second time on Christmas morning. 

"Allison!"

She groans, rolling over and away from Lydia, who clearly fell back asleep eventually. The curtains are already allowing some light to stream through from the window. "No," she mumbles into her pillow, and she's just letting her eyes flutter shut when her mother's voice rings out once more.

"Allison! Get your ass out of bed and come help with breakfast!"

Allison groans once more, but this time manages to lift her limbs off the bed, throwing off the comforter as she does so. 

"Merry Christmas to you too, Mom," she grumbles as she pads into the bathroom. Lydia's still asleep, which is something of a Christmas miracle with all the yelling her mother is doing and considering how she's a light sleeper anyway. Allison is almost jealous. 

"I won't ask again, Allison!"

"I'm coming," she calls out of the bathroom door. Scratch that, she thinks. She is so totally jealous of Lydia. 

"Morning," Allison yawns once she reaches the kitchen to the sight of her mom already frying eggs on the stove.

"Is Lydia still asleep? I've put out the ingredients for pancakes already, and I'm expecting you to work your magic."

"Mhm," Allison moves to where the aforementioned ingredients are, bending to retrieve a bowl from the cupboard below the counter before beginning to sift together the flour and sugar with practiced ease. "She didn't sleep well, so I didn't wanna wake her up."

"Sure," her mom's voice is gentle with understanding, and neither of them talk further on the topic. Instead, her mom finishes off the eggs and slides them on a plate, watching as Allison takes her place in front of the stove and starts preparing a fresh pan to fry in.

"You know, it's actually pretty embarrassing how much better you are at breakfast than me," her mom comments as Allison flips a pancake. "One of the only worthwhile things you got from your father, huh?"

Allison laughs, surprising even herself. "Yeah, I guess so," she grins, slipping the now finished pancake onto a place. "Don't pretend you're not happy about our Pancake Sundays though."

"Well, yeah, there is that perk," she agrees with a matching smile. "There are worse things you could've picked up."

Allison didn't think she could really put up with any mentions of her dad today, after the disaster that was last night's phone call, but she's pleasantly surprised when not much more than an accustomed, almost fond exasperation blooms in her chest at the thought of him. Maybe it's the Christmas spirit.

She finishes off the stack of pancakes soon enough, and begins to fry bacon and simultaneously brew a pot of coffee.

At her mother's raised eyebrows - Allison's never actually liked coffee - she only says: "For Lydia."

The bacon is followed by hash browns and grilled tomatoes. It's always been weird, but it doesn't make it any less true - like her dad, Allison is lousy at almost every form of cooking that involves anything more elaborate than microwaving or possibly putting pasta in boiling water - but she cooks a mean breakfast.

Allison starts on an omelette because both her and Lydia prefer them to the scrambled eggs that have already been made, and her mom starts laying the table. They work in comfortable, calm silence for a while, before something occurs to Allison.

"Mom," she begins thoughtfully, still with her back to her as she beats the eggs.

"Hm?"

"You know how we're having lunch today. And stuff."

"And stuff? But yeah."

"Just  - stuff. And how Lydia's having lunch with us."

"Yes..."

"And stuff."

"And stuff. Yes, Allison, I am aware of the fact."

Allison sighs. "I was wondering if..."

"If..."

"Well, if, uh, if Toby could come over," she says in a rush. "Like, if he's not busy. Or anything."

There's a beat of quiet, the only noise in the kitchen being that of the omelette sizzling in the pan. Allison keeps her gaze fixed on it, already feeling stupid for even bringing the whole thing up.

"Well," her mother says eventually, "he's welcome here, of course. But remember, Allison, Christmas is a - "

"- time for family," Allison recites. "I know. Still. Lydia's here, isn't she?"

"Lydia is family," her mom says quietly. There's another few seconds of silence, before Allison exhales gently.

"Yeah," she agrees. "She is."

"I'm just saying," her mom moves to stand beside her, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. "Toby probably has other plans with his own family. Keep that in mind, okay?"

Allison thinks about it, of Toby Martin calling her at five am just to wish her a happy Christmas, sat alone in a too big house that's decorated head to toe a painstakingly deliberate manner that no one will be there to appreciate.

"I'll keep it in mind," she says.

 ✦

"I'm gonna ask Toby if he wants to come over," Allison mentions over breakfast.

Lydia only nods and sips at her coffee, smiling like she's proud of her. They're settle into an easy state of quiet for a while after that, Allison's mom finishing first and excusing herself.

"Hurry up, you two," she says just before she disappears into the living room. "It would be nice if we could open the presents sometime this century."

Allison rolls her eyes and mutters an affirmation. Lydia only continues to hide a smile behind her mug.

"So," she says finally, once Allison herself is almost done, and she's pretty sure that Lydia's about to bring up and tease her for all eternity, but for once Allison is wrong, because instead, she asks: "Did your mom make the coffee?"

"No," Allison mops the remaining grease of the bacon with the half of the hash brown that remains on her place before taking a bite. "I did," she says once she's swallowed.

"You hate coffee," Lydia observes.

"Yeah," Allison rolls her eyes. "It was for you, genius."

There's a moment of silence, then Lydia says: "I didn't know you know how I take my coffee."

"Yeah, well," Allison stands up, piling her plate on top of Lydia's and carrying them both to the sink. "I live only to serve, Your Majesty."

"Girls!"

"C'mon, let's go open presents before Mom goes into cardiac arrest," Allison snorts. When Lydia doesn't respond, still staring thoughtfully at her coffee cup, Allison frowns and crosses over to her.

"Lydia? You okay?"

"Hm? I - yeah."

Allison holds out her hand, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head in the direction of the living room expectantly. "Shall we?"

"Girls!"

Lydia can't suppress a huff of laughter through her nose at the stress that practically drips off Allison's mom's voice, as though the world will end if they don't go and open their presents this very moment. She takes Allison's hand, allowing her to haul her up.

"We shall."

 ✦

13.07, Allison Reed: Toby?

13.08, Toby Martin: ALLISON

13.08, Toby Martin: HAPPY CHRISTMAS

13.08, Allison Reed: Yeah, you too.

13.09, Allison Reed: So, I was wondering

13.09, Allison Reed: I mean, you're probably busy and stuff so it's okay if you can't

13. 09, Toby Martin: ...?

13.09, Allison Reed: I was just

13.10, Allison Reed: fdgdfjkghjwwjqaskfjdkj

13.10, Allison Reed: adlsak;;fdsl

13.11, Toby Martin: uh...allison??

13.12, Allison Reed: She's asking you to come over for lunch with us. - Lydia

13.12, Allison Reed:Sorry

13.12, Allison Reed: But yeah, basically what she said

13.13, Allison Reed: I mean, you're probably definitely busy. And stuff. But the offer's there.

13.13, Allison Reed: If you feel like taking it.

13.14, Toby Martin: no no i'd love to!! are you sure your moms okay with it and stuff i mean i dont want to impose or anything

13.15, Allison Reed: Toby, she loves you.

13.15, Allison Reed: She really does. - Lydia

13.16, Toby Martin: well in that case, i'd love to :)

13.17, Allison Reed: Three o'clock. Don't be late, Martin.

13.17, Toby Martin: when am i ever?? ;) OH i can bring how to succeed in business without really trying and we can watch it!!

13.17, Allison Reed: Jesus Christ

13.18, Allison Reed: You know what fine I am literally immune by now

13.18, Toby Martin: :))  see you at 3!!

13.18, Allison Reed: See you, Toby.

13.20, Toby Martin: allison?

13.21, Allison Reed: Yeah?

13.21, Toby Martin: thanks :) 

  ✦

Allison is having a shower when the doorbell rings at precisely 2:58. She can hear her mother answering the door and greeting Toby, both her voice and Toby's far lower one distorted by the rushing water. A few seconds later, there's a loud knock on her door, and Lydia's voice comes from the other side of it.

"Hurry your ass up, Allison! Toby's already here!"

"I'm almost done," Allison lies, sighing as she starts washing the shampoo out of her hair. She figures that her shower's just going to have to be cut a little short, by the looks of things. 

Letting out yet another sigh, she administers shower gel and washes it off at record speed, clambering out of the shower and wrapping a towel around herself. She can hear someone on the landing outside the door, but guesses it's Lydia, so her slightly skimpy towel won't matter all that much, and opens the door. 

It's not Lydia. 

"Hey, Allis - oh," Allison can already see a flush beginning to creep into Toby's cheeks, and has no doubt that her own are also beginning to colour. "Uh, hi?" he says, voice a little too high.

Allison closes her eyes and takes three deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she opens her eyes, Toby is sadly still there. She can feel water beginning to drip off her hair and down her back. The entire ordeal is wholly uncomfortable. 

"Hi, Toby," she sighs. 

"I was just - uh, getting, um, something for your - for your - I mean - for Lydia, so I, uh, I came up, um, uh, I came up here -"

"Yeah, I can see that," Allison says wryly, pausing to adjust her towel. "Did you get what Lydia wanted?"

"Uh..." Toby looks like he can't even remember what Lydia wanted in the first place, let alone whether he managed to retrieve it. She can tell that he's trying very hard to keep his gaze fixed on a point slightly above her head, and it's working, for the most part, but she's pretty sure his eyes have strayed a little once or twice during their exchange. 

"Okay, well, I should probably get out of this towel," Allison says, nodding her head in the direction of her room. Toby only stands in stricken silence, and it's a few more beats before she realises the implication of her words. 

"I mean, get out of it and into something, um, else," she hastens to add. "You know. Like. Clothes. And stuff."

Toby nods slowly. Allison hates her life. "Right," she says awkwardly. "See you downstairs?"

"Uh huh," he nods again, the agreement still pitched a little too high to be normal. She watches as he swallows thickly and moves his gaze even further away from her. 

"Okay," Allison takes the few steps towards her bedroom. "Yeah." 

She goes inside and shuts the door, leaning back against it, and starts to count slowly to ten. By the time she reaches seven, her cheeks are at least a little less warm, and when she's at nine, she hears Toby begin to retreat back downstairs. 

Allison watches as her hair drips onto the carpet. "Shit," she mutters, and she doesn't even know what she's referring to. 

  ✦

By the time Allison arrives downstairs, this time with clothes and a little more dignity, Lydia is checking on something in the oven while Toby lays the table and chats animatedly to her mom, who is cutting up vegetables, about something that she can't even begin to keep track of. It looks strangely natural; the three move around each other as if they've been doing so all their lives, and something about the whole thing throws Allison completely off kilter whilst simultaneously curling her toes with warmth. 

"Allison, stop standing in the doorway, come help," her mom chides without even looking up from the chopping board. "Sorry, Toby, what were you saying?"

Toby resumes his monologue without the slightest bit of hesitation, and Lydia grabs Allison's arm, pointing at a bowl sitting on the counter filled with what looks like very dark cake mix. 

"Stir," she orders, and Allison does so, poking a finger in it and tasting. "Is this cake mix?" 

"No," Lydia rolls her eyes. "It's the Christmas pudding."

Allison continues to stir, but frowns. "Aren't you meant to do this part the day before, or something?"

"Your grandmother never did, and hers always turned out just fine," her mom asserts from the chopping board. 

"Okay..." Allison sings. "But if we're pudding-less, I'm blaming you."

Toby laughs and Lydia just rolls her eyes; her mom points the knife in her direction and says, "Watch it, young lady."

For the first time in five years, Allison feels like she doesn't just have a mom and a dad who lives across the country; she has a family. 

And yeah, it's kind of weird, but it's also really good. 

  ✦

"Allison, you might as well just let him put it on," Lydia sighs almost exhaustedly over lunch. "You know it's going to happen, anyway."

"See!" Toby is triumphant. "Lydia's with me! Besides, when I texted you you were okay with it!"

"Yeah, I was trying to be nice, it being Christmas and all," Allison shoots back, spearing a roast potato with her fork. "Following the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, all that."

"So we should watch it!"

"My niceness doesn't extend that far, Jesus or no Jesus," she says darkly. 

"Allison," her mom chides.

"I wasn't using His name in vain!" she protests. "I was being serious!"

"If Toby and Lydia both want to watch the film..." her mom trails off in that way she has when she's practically screaming Do the Right Thing aka what I'm telling you to do without actually saying anything. Allison scowls.

"Fine," she relents. "But I'm not doing the log. You are. And I have half a mind not to even give you your Christmas present -"

"Allison!"

Allison rolls her eyes. "I was kidding, God," she mutters, maybe a little childishly. "I swear, no one even has a sense of humour in this house -"

"Says you," Lydia snorts. 

Allison's eyes narrow. "Shut up, Lydia."

"Make me," Lydia retorts with a smirk.  There's a few moments of long, drawn-out silence, before the two of them start sniggering with laughter. 

"I don't understand," Toby says, frowning confusedly.

"Don't worry, honey," Allison's mom sighs. "It's been four years and I still don't understand."

 ✦

 "Took him long enough," Allison snorts at the screen once J. Pierpont Finch has realised how in love he is with Rosemary, spread lazily out on the couch with her head resting against Lydia's thigh. Toby, who's sitting in the armchair across from them, shrugs. 

"Give the guy a break. He was busy trying to succeed in business," he says, smile playing at his lips.

"You literally just said that so we could call you out with the title of the musical," Lydia retorts. She's alternating between paying attention to the television and reading a fifty-something page article on some very high-level physics that Allison probably couldn't even begin to understand. 

"Guilty," Toby's smile has widened to a full out grin. Allison realises with a jolt that even since the opening credits started rolling, she's been paying more attention to him than to the film itself, and the knowledge makes her shift more uncomfortably. Feeling the movement, Lydia removes her eyes from the paper in her hands to shoot her a quizzical glance. 

"Sorry," Allison mutters, glancing back to the screen as Rosemary is proposed to and the happy couple start singing in unison. The song ends, eventually, and it's at that moment that her mom pokes her head through the door. 

"Allison? A moment?"

"Hm?" Allison sits up, but her mother just moves her head in the direction of the doorway. She gets up and follows her out.

"What's up?" Allison says once they're in the hall, raising an eyebrow. 

"Okay, firstly, I don't want you to get mad," she notices for the first time that her mom is holding an envelope in her hands, and Allison's curiosity peaks. "But God, Allison, all those folders you have on your laptop and all these theories you have and you don't even show them to anyone -"

"Wait," Allison frowns, "what?"

"Your...your science stuff. Biology research. All that - all that hypothesising you do when you...I just...I thought..." she trails off, clearly running out of words, and instead holds out the envelope to Allison, which has already been opened, and has, for some reason, the Google logo emblazoned on the front. Still frowning, she slips out the letter inside and casts her eyes over it.

Miss Reed, 

Congratulations! We're extremely pleased to inform you that you have won the 17-18 age category in our annual science fair. We received hundreds of thousands of entries this year in the category, with this one being the most hotly contested due to the ages of the entrants, but yours is the one we considered to have the most scientific merit - 

"I don't understand," Allison glances up at her mom. "I didn't enter anything."

- the details of your prize are attached overleaf, it reads in the final paragraph. Our publicity team will be contacting you soon. Congratulations again on your placing. 

"You entered for me," she murmurs, turning the page and letting her gaze flick down it. The list is long, but what attracts her attention first is the words $50,000 Google scholarship to further the prizewinner's education.

"I haven't seen the prizes," her mom says slowly, "but - I mean, Allison, honey, you have entire portfolios for this stuff, and experiments and presentations all drawn up and you don't show them to anyone, and when I spoke to your Biology teacher and showed her the one about flu vaccines -"

"You showed Dr. Ellis and she - oh my God," Allison's eyes dart between her mom's face and the letter in her hands, as though she can't quite decide where to settle them. "Mom, there's like - you - I..." she trails off, then, after a moment, she whispers, "I won."

"You won," her mom repeats, and she's wearing a smile that Allison isn't quite sure how to mirror yet, still in a complete state of shock. 

"But this is - oh my God," Allison doesn't even know whether she can say anything else, and her mom isn't even bringing out the Lord's name in vain thing, and Allison's won something, Allison's actually won something for what she's pretty sure is the first time in her life; she's won a lot of things, the most important being fifty thousand dollars for college. "I won't even - that's money that'll help me out with college," Allison says slowly in disbelief. "I won."

Her mom tugs her into an embrace, huge and warm, and Allison feels like she's floating. "I'm so proud of you," she whispers. 

"I did that flu stuff last summer," Allison mumbles, fully aware that she's already beginning to ramble. "Got bored in Cali. Dad let me use all the tech they had in the labs at his office. I mean, it's not that complicated, honestly, you just...look at what the viruses have in common...then you...you start to, uh, try and identify potent endonuclease inhibitors that can be developed into anti-influenza- "

"Allison?" Lydia's voice cuts off her monologue, which, honestly, wasn't going anywhere very soon, anyway, and Allison pulls away from her mom to see her standing hesitantly in the doorway of the living room, as though unsure as to whether to approach them or not. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Allison says slowly, looking first at the letter still grasped tightly in her hands and then at her mother, who's grinning ear to ear. "I think I am."

 ✦

"I knew you'd win," Lydia beams when Allison's telling her later, up in her room. 

Allison stares at her for a few brief seconds, before rolling her eyes. "Of course you knew," she says, but it doesn't have much bite.

"How'd you think your mom got to those password protected folders?" Lydia replies with a raised eyebrow. "Also, you need to start being less predictable. Do you even use different passwords? I could probably hack into every account you own."

"Like you haven't already," Allison snorts, and Lydia colours a barely noticeable pink, which is always a sight to see. 

"Whatever," Lydia brushes off. "It was freshman year and I was curious."

"Yeah, okay," Allison lets it slide, even though she's pretty sure the last time Lydia hacked into her email was three days ago. "How'd you know I'd win, anyway?"

"I read through your project?" Lydia says, as though it's obvious, which, maybe it is. "I was curious. I mean, computer aided discovery of new endonuclease inhibitors? I wanted to see how you did it."

"And what did you think?" she asks hesitantly. It's a stupid question, really; the project is clearly worth something, since it won first prize at the Google fucking Science Fair (something which is still extremely weird and most likely a very surreal dream), but Lydia's opinion has always mattered most to Allison, and since her best friend Certified Genius Lydia Huntington, it's not like she's not qualified to give it. 

Lydia crosses the room to stand right in front of Allison and look her straight in the eye. 

"Absolutely fucking amazing," she says softly, and Allison's eyes widen, because she's probably heard Lydia swear about two times ever, and one of those times was twelve days ago when she was throwing up because of a funfair rollercoaster. "Ridiculously, atrociously, stupidly..." Lydia grabs her hands. "Smart. And I almost wish I came up with it."

Allison lets out a laugh, because Lydia probably could have, and in half the time, and she tells Lydia so. 

"Nah," Lydia shakes her head. "Bio's not really my thing, anyway."

"Really," Allison says, eyebrows arched.

"Yeah, I'll leave that to you, Google Science Fair Champion," Lydia teases, squeezing her hands. "And you call me a nerd."

"Shut up, Lydia."

"Make me."

Allison manages to huff a laugh through her nose, and Lydia grins widely. 

So yeah, maybe she was woken up at five am, which is never ideal, but whatever. The rest of the day, Allison thinks later as she stares at her bedroom ceiling and listens to Lydia's quiet snores, was pretty damn good. 

 ________________________________________________________________

a/n: yeah the allydia tension is intensifying but then again so is the alliby.........................also fuck april i want it to be christmas again

shoutout to mister eric chen who actually did the whole flu vaccine shebang and won grand prize and the google science fair last year the smartarsed motherfucker i basically just lifted phrases from his project thingy but it's super cool so check it out!!

dedicated to katie because she's hella rad and she ships allydia also she just finished 3b of teen wolf and is currently joining us in mourning (it's ok. you literally cannot deal with it worse than i have. it's physically impossible.)

vote comment make me happy!! the support for this book has literally rocketed since i started in september which means a lot, because it's very close to my heart. i love you all!!

- mariam