Page 35 of Enter if you Dare: Part Three

“I want everyone to know that this is the best Christmas Eve of my entire life. It even trumps the one where Mom accidentally invited both her parents on the same night after they’d divorced, and Grandpa threw mashed potatoes at Grandma, and us kids thought it was a food fight and joined in.”

Ignoring Noa’s revelation, I close my eyes and listen to Cave’s heartbeat, knowing that this is real, that he is back.

“Cave, I feel like now is a good time to share something with you, since you’re all subdued and feeling lighter and more relaxed than when you walked in.” I open my eyes to see Noa standing in front of us. “I did something, and not on purpose,” he confesses. “You’re going to hate it, but you need to be forewarned, but it was an honest mistake.”

I snort, knowing exactly where this is going.

“In my defense,” he continues, “I only ordered a hundred. There was a decimal situation, which has since been fully resolved.”

“It hasn’t been resolved,” Cipher interjects. “There are still nine hundred and one trees in the cornfield.”

“It’s seasonal—it will be fully resolved after Christmas.”

“Home,” is all Cave says.

I press my hand over his heart, not wanting to be away from him, from knowing he is real.

“You’re not mad? Good—because Lach and I decorated the outer trees, and it looks so festive, and the lights are rigged so that if you run along the edges, they light up. It would make for a good chase, and I’m still waiting to see heaven again.”

Cave laughs out loud and shakes his head. Something in him has changed, but not for the worse, like we were expecting. He seems lighter, almost as if the demons inside him are not clawing their way to the surface. I hope we get to experience more of this Cave, because I love seeing him happy.

Cave

It is not always the people you were given,

It’s the people who showed up.

The man who digs holes.

The man who fixes things.

The woman who loves me regardless.

It’s everything worth coming home to.

Noa wakes up at six forty-three in the morning, sitting upright and yelling, “It’s Christmas,” at a deafening volume, waking Valli and Cipher. But I was already awake, and have been since before five a.m. I wasn’t ready to venture out and see everyone yesterday, as I wanted to enjoy time with my people alone. Today is going to be a lot, and if I am being honest with myself, no longer having my cornfield and seeing what it looks like now is not something I am looking forward to doing today. But I know I have to accept it for what it is because I caused the damage.

Being inside the facility this time was somewhat helpful, though I will never admit it. Seth is good at his job and helped me in ways he will never know. He didn’t fix my demons; they are still there and I think they always will be. The Scarecrow will forever be a part of me, but I have to learn to be me again, and I want that. Being away from the island made me realize how much I have come to like this place, even Vero. Or perhaps I hate him a little less, but that will need to be evaluated when I see him.

Valli grumbles into my shoulder about it being too early and that Noa needs to go back to sleep, but he’s already out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, so there is no holding him back. He produces a bag with the biggest smile on his face as he holds it up.

Cipher sits up with a sigh, accepting his fate that Noa is too excited and no one is getting any more sleep. He is like this every year, but it’s our first year experiencing this side of him so early. Eventually, Valli rolls over to look at what Noa is rambling on about.

Noa shares that his family has a tradition at home where everyone wears ugly Christmas sweaters, and his mom wanted to do the same this year since she has all of her children together, so he took the initiative to get us all one.

He holds up a red sweater first, one with small dancing figures on it, and Valli takes it without complaint. Cipher’s is green, and he looks at it for a moment and thanks Noa.

Next, Noa pulls out his own, and it is the worst sweater I have ever seen. It’s obnoxious and covered in blinking lights, which he tells us are battery-operated as he pulls it on.

Then he holds out the last one to me while seeming nervous. I don’t blame him—before I would have never worn one of these, ever. But after being without my people for the last few weeks, it’s made me realize I would do anything for them, even if it means wearing an ugly sweater. It’s black at least and not so garish. Across the front is a slightly lopsided scarecrow, arms out wide, and he even has a hat.

I take the sweater from his outstretched hand and pull it over my head. Everyone stares at me as I stand, completely naked from the waist down, in a knitted sweater.

I’ve not worn anything besides my scarecrow outfit for longer than I can put into words, as it was what kept me safe.

“I . . .” Noa mumbles. “You look . . .”

“He looks incredible. The top half, anyway. The bottom half I would not recommend while attending family breakfast,” Cipher adds drolly.