Tidings of Great Boys by Shelley Adina Page B

Wow.”
    “We would if you’d let it go. Hand it over, girlfriend, so the rest of us can see.” Shani took it, and I saw it was a drawing
     in a frame.
    “It’s us,” I said in wondering tones. “He really drew this?”
    Sitting round a gorgeously colored-in fire was our whole group, comic-book style, plus Kaz himself and Danyel, Shani’s boyfriend.
     And even though I hadn’t been to Lissa’s last summer, I had been drawn in, too, with my embarrassing mop of curly hair, completing
     the circle. Firelight made our faces a study in gold and black, and each person was so uniquely
them
that it was almost scary. Kaz was a far better artist than I’d ever dreamed. No wonder he was trying to get his graphic novel
     published.
    “What are you holding?” Gillian squinted at the picture, then at Lissa, and handed it to Carly. “A torch?”
    “She’s cremating a marshmallow.” Carly handed it over her shoulder to Gabe and Patricia, who made admiring noises.
    “What a talent he’s got,” I said. “It looks exactly like us, only more—I don’t know—
more
.”
    Lissa took the picture again and stared at it as though she could fall right into the scene and be home with him again.
    “How is his novel coming?” Gillian asked. “Any word yet?”
    “Not a thing,” Lissa answered. “He’s on his third publisher, and they’ve had it for almost a year now. He’s basically given
     up.”
    Alasdair leaned over the back of the sofa and looked at the picture. “Very nice. This is a friend of yours?”
    Lissa pointed to Kaz’s self-portrait, complete with shaggy hair and whimsical, triangular half-smile. And an arm casually
     slung round cartoon Lissa’s shoulders.
    “Ah.” That was all he said. And yet I knew that in that single look, he’d just given up the idea of Lissa-and-Alasdair for
     good.
    Now all I had to do was make him see that Lindsay-and-Alasdair was an even better idea.
    And I had a week in which to do it.

chapter 10
    O N CHRISTMAS MORNING, I’m always the first one down. Always. When I’m at home, at least.
    So when I slid down the banister and landed slap on both feet on the bottom stair (because you have to hop off at the last
     minute or crash into the huge finial with the carved badgers), dashed across the entrance hall and into the sitting room,
     I got the shock of my life.
    My mother lay curled up on the couch next to the Christmas tree, sound asleep.
    I swear I couldn’t speak or move for two whole minutes. I mean, I’d been plotting and conniving all this time to get her here,
     but some part of me must not have believed she’d ever come. That was the part that stood in the middle of the Turkish carpet,
     mouth hanging open, completely unable to form a coherent sentence like, “What are you doing here?”
    She opened her eyes and yawned. And then she caught sight of me. “Darling.” Her arms came out from under the blanket and she
     held them open.
    “Mummy,” I choked against her neck, my wild hair and her smooth brown bob mixing together on the sofa cushions as I knelt
     beside her. “You came. You came.”
    Now I was really home.
    “Well, it was obvious you were going to need my help this week if we would have any hope of getting Hogmanay together in time.
     I just hope your father will forgive me for barging in.”
    “Christmas is the perfect time for forgiving,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.
    “Dad!” I flew into his hug and gave him a big kiss for good measure. “You mustn’t blame Mummy. I’ve made a perfect pest of
     myself all week and she’s here in sheer self-defense, I’m sure of it.”
    “I’m sure she’s not.” Dad looked over at the couch, where Mummy surreptitiously patted her hair into place. “Hello, Meg. A
     happy Christmas.”
    “To you, too. I meant it about barging in. I’d never have considered it if Lindsay hadn’t—”
    “Think nothing of it. We’re happy to have you here.” Bother. He sounded as polite as if she were a