Riiiiiing! I bolted upright in my seat as the bell shrieked. I had slept through the 6th period. Again. Yawning, I ran my fingers through my now extremely disheveled hair. The classroom was alive with chatter as everyone else packed up. I scrambled to gather my scattered pencils from the floor and stuffed my laptop into my overstuffed backpack. Laleh, my best friend, walked over, shaking her head.

"Noelle! Did you fall asleep again?" she scolded.

"Shhhh!" I hissed, praying Mr. Wallace hadn't heard my snoring from the other side of the room. Detention with him was a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

Laleh shook her head. "How you manage straight A's in every class is a mystery!"

"The extra sleep strengthens my brain," I joked. Laleh winced as I stood and turned to face her.

"You need a hairbrush."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my pocket mirror from my bag. My reflection was a blurry mess. Oops. Donning my glasses, I saw why Laleh winced. My curly hair was even more of a mess than usual—tangled from my nap, with a pronounced cowlick. It would be perfect...if I were impersonating the crazy bird lady from Home Alone.

"Whatever," I shrugged. Laleh looked perfect, as always. She wore a long sweater and freshly ironed slacks, not a speck of dust or even a wrinkle visible. Her hair was glossy, neatly pulled back in a bun, every strand perfectly in place. I shrugged on my jacket and slung my backpack over one shoulder.

We headed out. As we stepped through the door, I saw that the first snow of the year had begun to fall. The first snow of the year. Snowflakes were falling, the sky was a deep blue, and a sparkling blanket of frost covered the school lawn. It looked like the inside of a snow globe. I took a deep breath, intending to enjoy the crisp winter air. Instead, a pickup truck rumbled by, belching thick black exhaust, which I then inhaled. I began coughing, my eyes watering as Laleh patted me on the back, laughing.

"You're a mess!" she exclaimed. I continued to cough, while a nearby group of girls giggled and pointed. My face flushed, especially when I noticed Katie Smith, my ex-best friend, in the middle of the group. She had abandoned me for parties and gossip as soon as high school began. Laleh shot a glare in her direction. I envied her guts; she always told me to stand up for myself, but I would rather keep my head down and let it pass. It was easier that way.

Once my lungs began functioning again, we started our walk home. Everything was coated in a light layer of snow, like powdered sugar. I grabbed a handful and tossed it into the air, watching it swirl gently down. I sighed contentedly.

"I love winter, don't you?" I asked Laleh. She gave me the stink eye.

I smirked. "Oh, I forgot— you hate cold, snow, rain, and think wool itches."

"I do like Shab-e Yaldā," she admitted. Shab-e Yaldā, an Iranian holiday, marks the winter solstice. I had attended a few of her family's celebrations, and they were awesome. I always left Laleh's house so stuffed I was sure I could never eat again. Then I would go back to her house and eat more.

My mom wasn't particularly religious, but we celebrated Christmas. It was my favorite holiday. I loved everything about it: the decorations, the lights, the snow, the presents, the food. There's nothing like the feeling of "holiday spirit". If it wasn't clear yet, I was a bit Christmas-crazy. As I parted ways with Laleh at a stop sign, I pondered which cookies to bake this year. Gingerbread was a must, maybe I could try making shortbread as well. There was still a mile to walk home in the snow, but I didn't mind. The cold was that perfect winter chill— your nose turned icy, cheeks red, while you were almost baking in the thick sweater and jacket your parents insisted you wear. Snowflakes danced around me, my cheeks and nose were rosy and going numb. I pulled out my earbuds and found my Christmas playlist. I refused to listen to Christmas music before December 1st, believing that saving it made the season more special. But once December 1st arrived, it was only Christmas music, all the time. My holiday policy was simple: go big or go home. I decorated everything, even changing my profile picture and lock screen to Christmas-themed photos. Hopping from snowdrift to snowdrift, I made my way home. Suddenly, I remembered that Pablo's annual winter party was tomorrow. Everyone in my grade was attending. No one had asked me to be their date. I hadn't expected anyone to, but it was disheartening. Maybe Emilio would go with me. He'd probably say yes if I asked him. I considered it for a moment but rejected the idea. He likely had plans with someone already. Shaking my head to dispel the dark thoughts of my looming spinsterhood, I turned up the music. I envisioned what the party would look like if I were in charge. It would be like the Victorian Christmas dances of the past. Everyone would wear ballgowns or suits, candles instead of LED lights, an orchestra playing festive melodies as people elegantly waltzed across the dance floor. I closed my eyes and imagined the Christmas ball, where gowns swished across the floor in perfect harmony, accompanied by laughter and music. I sighed dreamily. I would have loved to see something like that. Instead, I had to endure high school parties with blaring music and the smell of sweat and stale air, where jeans and old T-shirts replaced dresses and suits. As I passed by some shops, an old man stood in front, dressed in an old-fashioned suit. In front of him stood a large mailbox labeled "Christmas Wishes".

"Christmas Wishes, 50 cents! Guaranteed to come true!" he said, ringing a silver bell. I bit my lip. What's the harm in making a Christmas wish?

"50 cents, right?" I asked, rummaging through my backpack. I knew it was a bit silly, but sometimes a touch of whimsy was good for the soul. The old man smiled and handed me a slip of paper.

"Write your wish on the paper, while thinking about what you want. Slip the paper into the box and insert the 50 cents in the coin slot." I took out a pen and wrote down my wish. I wished to attend a Christmas ball, to dance the night away in a beautiful gown, to waltz with a handsome boy while snow fell softly outside. I wished with all my heart, so vividly that when I opened my eyes, I almost expected to find myself there. But no, I was still standing on a slushy sidewalk, the snow already melting, in a red coat and earbuds. No ballgown. No handsome partner. At least it was snowing. I placed the paper in the slot and inserted the 50 cents. It made a tinkling sound, and a white glitter cloud drifted out from the opening. I checked the slot; it was empty. At least it was a cool trick. Fifty cents well spent. I thanked the man and resumed my walk home.

"Noelle! Wait!" I heard a voice from behind me. I turned and the old man was running to catch up with me.

"You forgot your pen."

He handed me the pen and I thanked him profusely. Honestly, what was wrong with my brain? My mom always said I would forget my own head if it wasn't attached to my neck. As I began walking again, I realized something. He had called me Noelle. How had he known my name? I turned to ask him, but he and his mailbox had disappeared. Strange. He must have packed up quickly. As I continued walking, I couldn't shake the dreamy image from my mind, the one where my Christmas wish might come true.

Sleighbells ring,

Are you listening?

In the lane,

Snow is glistening,

A beautiful sight,

We're happy tonight,

Walking in a winter wonderland...