Author's Note: Merry Christmas! This is one of my favorite fics, I think. It's about an OC who first appeared in my fic "Medium-Sized Heaven", but you won't be missing much if you haven't read that. I first came up with Gloria completely out of necessity, because I needed a classmate for Elysia to talk about. I don't know why I picked the name Gloria, but I did, and ultimately I'm very glad I did too. This story sprouted from talking with a friend about the few mentions of Gloria in "Medium-Sized Heaven", and realizing that Gloria has a story to tell as well. Gloria is kind of based on one of my best friends from fifth grade, who had the same name and appearance as this character. I decided to make her interested in linguistics because I wanted to give her a hobby different from my own hobby of writing stories. And I can see the appeal in translating Latin, so I don't blame Gloria. She's really become her own person in this fic; I hope you like it.

For NewMoonFlicker, who made me see how beautiful Gloria is.

Gloria is the Latin word for 'glory.' The angels said it when they appeared to the shepherds. They said gloria in excelsis Deo, which means 'glory to God in the highest.'

No, I'm not taking Latin for school. I'm already fluent in Latin; I picked it up from years of going to Mass. And when you sit in a deluge of Latin for over an hour twice every week since before you can remember, it really starts to stick. I'm actually taking a class in Drachman for school. Drachman is taught by a little weasel of a man, with weak knees and white-blond hair – definitely not the stereotype of a Drachman. Actually, he's not Drachman at all; his father was the Amestrian ambassador to Drachma back in the day, and he lived there for five years. My accent is better than his.

Drachman is quite a challenging language, with all the gutterals and complicated grammar and everything. Still, I'm planning on switching over to Xingese in my eleventh year. By that time, I figure, I'll be able to carry on with Drachman by myself. And I've been wanting for a long time to study Xingese; it sounds so much like a song when they speak.

If you couldn't tell already, I want to become a linguist when I grow up. Maybe even a translator to an ambassador; then I could actually go and see the countries I've read so much about. But I don't tell anybody about this. I know they'd laugh at me. I mean, come on. Who wants to be a linguist when they grow up?

I hate report cards. Always have. Whenever we get them, suddenly everyone seems really interested in everyone else's progress. On the bus home, everyone's exchanging them back and forth. Inevitably – I rather like that word, by the way; its root comes from the Latin evado, to escape; thus, something is inevitable if you cannot escape it. Inevitably, Samantha Croxton asked to see mine at the end of last year. Samantha is one of those popular girls that everyone seems to want to be friends with. I don't get why; I sure don't want to be friends with her!

Anyway, I didn't want to show it to her, for two reasons, mainly. One, that kind of information is private, I think, and what should it matter to Samantha what grades I got? I'm the one who should be worried about them! Two, I had gotten top grades as usual. Not a good reason? Keep reading; you'll see.

We hadn't even got inside the bus yet; this year Samantha made record time. She flounced over to me (she has long golden curls, the perfect kind of hair for flouncing), put on that smile I've always thought belonged in a toothpaste commercial, and said in her sugary voice, "And what did you get in your report card, Gloria?"

"What's it to you?" I demanded, clutching my thick manilla envelope tighter.

"Oh, come on." She smiled around at the cluster of girls who followed her everywhere. "Everybody's showing their cards. Don't be shy! What's the matter, Gloria? You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" I snorted. I knew I was advancing into dangerous territory, but I didn't care. "You're the one who should be embarrassed, when I did better than you in composition, translation, and even reading!" I knew this for a fact, as I had heard her bragging earlier about her 97.5% on the Latin exam. I got 99.

Samantha's smile grew steely, as if her perfect teeth had suddenly turned into those spiky things on top of fences. "I'm afraid bluffing won't work."

"So I'm bluffing, am I? See for yourself!" I thrust the envelope towards her thoughtlessly, too angry to remember just why I hated showing anyone my cards.

Samantha took the envelope delicately with her sparkly, painted-nail hands and slid the card out. First, she stared at the part I knew was devoted to our Latin grades, and she blinked twice in quick succession. Then she looked up, confident once more. She smiled again, and now I could have sworn her teeth looked like swords. "Don't worry," she said softly so only I could hear. "I won't tell anyone you cheated."

That did it. I have four brothers, all of them older than me, so I've learned quite well how to land a good punch. I'm pretty confident that my first punch turned Samantha's eye a satisfying shade of purple by the next day. She toppled right over, like the heroine in a play or something, and the other girls had to rush and grab her. I would have kept on hitting her – she'd had that coming for a long time – but then the PE teacher grabbed me from behind. And that's no laughing matter, let me tell you; seriously, Mr. Tomlin should've gone into professional weight lifting or something.

Twenty minutes later, I sat in the principal's office next to Samantha, who was still crying, her mascara running all down her face. Our moms had been called, and now they both sat in the hard wooden seats in the office, glaring at me. The principal looked at me sternly over his clasped hands on the desk, with that look in his eyes that always means someone's in big trouble. But I don't really want to go into all that; long story short, I was grounded for my first week of summer break and Samantha's mother switched her to a different high school, so next year we wouldn't be in the same one.

But I didn't care. She got what she deserved, and now I don't have to see her ever again. I hope I never do, not as long as I live!

Mom never said a word of congratulations for my 98.5% overall average for that year, but it doesn't really matter. I didn't even hardly have to study to get that 99 in Latin; it was all a cinch. I spent my summer struggling through a thick volume of Drachman history – in the original language – so when school started up again, it was really easy.

Most of the kids in my elementary school transferred to the same high school as me, so that meant it wasn't that different, really. I still ate lunch alone; I guess my big Drachman books warded people away. And I still got into fights. The boys were the worst; they teased me a bunch. Got into a scuffle once, and naturally they pulled my hair. I hate boys.

All that changed when I started to get to know Elysia Hughes. Oh sure, I knew who she was and everything; we've gone to the same schools ever since kindergarten. But I never really talked to her or played with her or whatever, 'cause I never did that with anybody much. She had her friends, and I had my books. It worked. I knew Elysia was kinda like me, in a way. Sometimes our school would host one of those stupid father-daughter picnics, and we'd be left behind for our moms to pick us up from school, because the buses were used to cart everybody else off to the picnic grounds. We'd sit in the same room to wait, and sometimes we'd talk a little bit. It was really awkward, though. So anyway, I knew her dad had died a long time ago and stuff.

I'm not really that pretty. I have loads of bushy, frizzy brown hair that gets everywhere and is generally just impossible. And I'm kind of broad, you know? Not fat, exactly, but just kind of always too big. It helps when you're beating up on someone who's mean to you or holding your own against your brothers, but when you're just sitting there reading or whatever, it's not so great. Not for a girl, anyway. Girls are supposed to be pretty and graceful, so I guess I fail at that.

Elysia, on the other hand, is very pretty. Not like Samantha; she's not all glittery and prissy. She doesn't try to be good-looking, and I think that's why she is. She's got short, light brown hair and the biggest green eyes you ever saw. Her smile is really pretty, too, and she always wears these brightly colored dresses that somehow just seem to make her look really happy. She's not one of those girls that everyone wants to be a friend of, but she has her own little group of friends.

Needless to say, I was really surprised when she came up to me one day during the lunch hour. I was minding my own business as usual, just eating and reading one of my books, when she came over and asked, "Can I sit with you?"

I nodded, but I couldn't find anything to say once she had. She asked me what I was reading, and I showed her. I half expected her to tease me or laugh, but she looked interested instead. "You take Drachman?" she asked. When I nodded, she said, "I've always sort of wanted to learn Drachman, but I'm stuck in Latin. I'm really horrible at languages."

I was certain that at any moment she was going to start saying something nasty. I was sure someone had put her up to this, just to find another way to tease me. I mumbled, "I'm fluent in Latin."

"Really? Cool!" It was amazing how much her face could light up all in an instant. "Hey, maybe you could help me with mine!" And before I could say anything, she had invited me over to her house after school.

I had never been invited to someone's house before. Not by one of my classmates, I mean. I had to go to a pay phone to ask my mom if it was all right, and then I went with Elysia onto the bus that went by her house, in the opposite direction from mine. I could immediately tell which house was hers. It was the bright yellow one with colorful flowers growing in the front yard. It fit Elysia perfectly, if you know what I mean.

Elysia's mom met us at the door. She's a really nice woman, all smiles and everything, and she really looks a lot like Elysia. Now, I was taught to mind my manners, so I said, "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hughes."

But she said, "Well, it's very nice to meet you too, Gloria, but you can call me Gracia if you like." Then she urged us inside and sat us down at the kitchen table with milk and cookies. They were homemade, and very very good.

After that, Elysia took me to her room. It was a very cheerful room, with light green drapes and deep blue walls and a bedspread with a brightly colored geometric pattern. It was so different from my own room back home. I'm the only girl (unless you count my mom, which I don't), so I get a room to myself, but it's the smallest one. That's fine with me; my brothers have to share their rooms with each other. But my room is just kind of boring, with sort of off-white walls that are too thin to keep the shouting out and mismatched bedcovers because my brothers always snatch the matching ones. I barely have room for my bed, my desk, and my big bookcase; I have to squeeze sideways to get from my bed to the door. So Elysia's room seemed really big and bright and airy compared to mine. I suppose it made sense; after all, Elysia didn't have any siblings to contend with.

I noticed there were quite a few teddy bears around the room, and I wondered about this – but I was too shy to mention it. I was afraid I'd offend her and she'd get mad at me...and for some reason, I didn't think I'd be able to stand that. This was the first time I had been in the room of a girl my age. It felt special, almost sacred, and I didn't want to break the spell.

We sat down on the floor (Elysia sprawled on her stomach, but I preferred to sit), and I tried to help her with her Latin homework. Her pronunciation was really bad, and she couldn't seem to remember the genders for any words, but I didn't tell her this. I don't know how good of a teacher I was; it didn't seem like we got much of anywhere, but Elysia laughed a lot when I pointed out her mistakes. I didn't laugh (I thought it might sound like I was laughing at her), but I smiled along and started to feel more comfortable around her.

I was just trying to explain to her about cum clauses when Gracia called up to us that dinner was ready. Dinner was...a marvel. In my house, someone always gets into a fight with someone else, and it usually ends with someone shouting or breaking something and my mom yelling at us all to go to our rooms. But Gracia and Elysia were...quiet. Respectful. Nice. Gracia asked how school had gone, and Elysia told funny stories of things that had happened during the day. Somehow, when she talked about how the janitor had slipped over his own 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign and flown into a towering rage, it seemed a lot funnier than it had even at the time. Elysia really knew how to tell a good story; I was listening as eagerly as if I hadn't been in the hallway at the time it happened.

I found myself laughing quite a bit at dinner, something I definitely wasn't used to. Gracia told us how she had seen a young man return a lost wallet to the store she was in at the time, and how the lady who owned it had been found, and how none of the money had been missing. "It's so good to witness something like that," Gracia said. "Not everyone's lying and stealing these days."

By this time, I was beginning to feel comfortable with them, so I didn't mind so much when they started asking about my family, my hobbies, etc. (You know, I like the abbreviation etc. too; it comes from the Latin et cetera, which means 'and so forth.') And, best of all, they didn't laugh when I said I wanted to become a linguist. They seemed interested, and when I said that I might be a translator for an ambassador or something, Gracia nodded seriously and said, "That's just what Amestris needs. Better communication with our neighboring countries. Our Fuhrer is trying his very hardest, but-"

"But Uncle Roy doesn't know much Drachman, so that's too bad!" Elysia said with a grin. "Maybe you could be a translator for him, Gloria!"

I put down my knife and fork with a clatter. "Uncle?"

"Oh!" Elysia giggled. "He's not really my uncle, but I just call him that because he acts like one. He was my dad's best friend."

I couldn't help staring at Elysia, even though I knew it was rude. I couldn't even worry that she might be offended. She – Elysia Hughes, my classmate – thought of the Fuhrer himself as an uncle! I could hardly fathom it.

After a dessert of the most delicious apple pie I've ever tasted, Elysia dragged me to the sitting room, where the photo albums were. She pulled out an especially old one, and showed me pictures of two young men wearing military uniforms. "That's my dad," Elysia announced proudly, pointing at the one with glasses. The other man, according to the writing next to the picture, was Roy Mustang, now Fuhrer of the entire country. It was amazing to look at a picture of him when he was so young; you could tell it was the same guy, but he looked so different!

Elysia kept on turning the pages, and telling me who everyone was. "My dad's coworkers – that's Scieszka, she has photographic memory – oh look, there's my mom!" She proudly pointed out her father in every picture he was in. We looked through several albums, including Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's wedding pictures and Elysia's baby pictures (there were actually three albums of those).

We sat there, laughing over the sillier of Elysia's pictures, until Gracia poked her head in and said, "Gloria, honey? What time was your mother expecting you home?"

I looked up at the clock and saw that it was already very late. I hastily said my goodbyes and thanks, then high-tailed it to the nearest bus stop and home. Mom shouted at me when I came home, of course, but I ignored her and went to my room and tried to shut out the sounds of my brothers bickering in the next room.

I got ready for bed very fast, and lay staring up at the ceiling for a long time. The Hugheses' home was so different from mine; it had almost seemed like I was in a different world while I was there. Gracia and Elysia didn't shout at each other. They didn't even argue. They laughed, and told each other stories.

I hid my head under the covers, wishing my brothers would shut up so I could pretend I was still in Elysia's room.

Elysia invited me over lots more times. It was always under the pretext of me helping her out with her Latin, but for me it was like an escape. When I was at her house, I could forget about things I've always tried to forget. Things like yelling and teasing and being grounded. And maybe it was just my imagination, but I think I acted a bit nicer while I was there, too. Part of it was wanting to be polite and not wanting to make anybody angry at me, but part of it was also just because of the way they are. It's like they were rubbing off on me a bit, I guess. I even noticed a couple times that I wouldn't get quite as angry at my mom when I came back.

One time, after I'd been going over to her house every now and then for a couple months, we sat in the living room going through one of their many photo albums. This one was full of landscape pictures – mountains, forests, fields, beaches, lakes.... It looked like they'd been taken from all across Amestris. "My dad took these on my parents' honeymoon," Elysia told me. "They went all out. Took a tour of the whole country and everything."

Then Elysia turned the final page, and we came to the very last picture in the album, the only one with any people in it. It was Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, standing in front of their yellow house with their suitcases at their feet, as if they'd just come back at that very moment. I looked closer at them. Mr. Hughes had his arm around Gracia's shoulders, and Gracia leaned against him, both arms around his waist. They both looked so happy, as if those joyful smiles would never leave their faces. Then I glanced up at Elysia, and she had a little smile on her face as she gazed down at the picture of her father.

Finally, Elysia closed the book. As she put it back on the shelf, she asked softly, "Gloria...do you remember your dad at all?"

My parents divorced when I was three – almost four. I've never seen my dad since the day he left. I have a few memories of him, most of them pretty vague. So I said, "All I remember is that he was loud." Which was the truth, because I do remember that he shouted a lot. I can remember a bit more than that, but I didn't really want to tell Elysia about those memories.

"Do you remember yours?" I asked, a bit harsher than I was intending because of thinking about my dad.

Elysia hesitated, staring at the shelf of photo albums, then turned to me with a sad little smile. "He used to take a lot of pictures of me. I remember that, anyway."

"I guess we remember about the same, since we were about the same age when...it happened."

And then Elysia gave me a look that I hate above all others. She sort of frowned, and her eyebrows went up a little...and I could see it in her eyes. Sympathy. Pity. And I lost my head. "Stop that," I snarled. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" Elysia asked in surprise, but the pity was still there.

I jumped to my feet and grabbed my bag. "I don't need your sympathy!" I growled and rushed out of the house without even saying goodbye, slamming the door behind me.

On the bus ride home, I began to regret what I'd said. Why had I shoved it all in her face like that? Elysia had been so nice to me, and that was how I thanked her? My heart was heavy when I got home. I ignored my mother as usual, and got ready for bed. But as I lay in bed, staring up at the patterns the streetlamp made on my ceiling through the blinds, I knew that I had most likely lost the only real friend I had ever known.

Next day at school, I tried to avoid Elysia. Worked pretty well, especially during Drachman. I ate my lunch in the restroom so I wouldn't have to see her, but just as I was leaving she came in. "Gloria!" she said, sounding surprised. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

I bit my lip anxiously and wondered how I should start. Finally I decided to just say it. "Elysia," I mumbled, "I'm...I'm sorry for what I said last night."

"That's okay," Elysia said immediately. I stared at her; she had accepted my apology so easy, as if she hadn't minded at all. "Um...I have a Latin test next Monday. Do you think you could come help me study this weekend?"

I smiled. "Of course."

She kept on inviting me over, and I kept on coming. And I had a feeling that I had completely misunderstood that look she had given me. Elysia didn't pity me at all. She just understood.

Then Christmas came, and Elysia invited me to a party at her house, asking me to spend the night and everything. It took a bit of persuading before my mom would let me go (she wanted me to come to the Christmas Eve service like always), but finally she relented when I promised I'd go to the one on Christmas afternoon. I was very happy indeed.

I came to her house at four in the afternoon, and helped Gracia with cleaning up the house and cooking and stuff like that. One of the things I always marveled at Elysia for was that she didn't complain when her mother gave her chores. She whistled while she took down the laundry, and sang Christmas carols while she shined the silverware.

The guests started coming around five o'clock. When the doorbell rang, Elysia immediately sprang up and shouted, "I'll get it!" She raced to the door, and from where I stood setting the table I could hear the door open, the rumble of men's voices, and Elysia's tinkling laugh.

Next thing I knew, Elysia came into the room closely followed by two men – a tall one with blond hair, and a shorter, plump one with a tuft of red hair. "Gloria!" Elysia said happily. "This is my Uncle Jean, and Uncle Heymans."

I said hello politely, but just as Gracia emerged from the kitchen to greet them, the doorbell rang again, Elysia raced off to answer it, and a crowd of chattering people entered the house. There was a flurry of introductions, but I couldn't keep track of them. One of them was Kain, I think, and all of them seemed to be Uncles or Aunties, yet none of them looked related.

The Aunties went to help Gracia in the kitchen, and Elysia pulled me into the sitting room with the men. We hadn't been sitting there for very long, though, when the doorbell rang again and Elysia skipped off to answer it. I was sitting closest to the door, so I could clearly hear her squeal happily, "Uncle Roy! Auntie Liza!"

A man and a woman answered her with happy laughs, and then Gracia's voice joined theirs. "Where's...Maes?" I heard her ask. There was this strange hitch in her otherwise happy voice when she said the name.

Liza said, "He caught the stomach flu, so we had to leave him at home with his nurse."

"Oh, that's too bad!" Gracia said. "We're going to miss him."

"I think we'll leave early, just to be sure he's all right," Roy said. He had a very nice voice, deep and confident. "What do you say, Liza?"

"Yes, sir. That sounds good."

It struck me as odd that Liza would call her husband 'sir,' but when they came through the door to the sitting room, I saw why. Roy was the man from the pictures Elysia had shown me the first time I came to her house. The Fuhrer. I froze in my chair, but the men around me just called out casual greetings, one or two of them giving him absent-minded salutes.

"Uncle Roy!" Elysia tugged on Mr. Mustang's sleeve eagerly. "I want you to meet my friend, Gloria."

I stood up, and Mr. Mustang smiled cordially, holding out a hand. "Roy Mustang. A pleasure to meet you, Gloria."

I could only gape and shake his hand, numbly wondering if my brothers would believe me when I told them I'd shaken the Fuhrer's hand.

The sitting room was starting to get crowded, so Elysia sat on the floor and pulled me down beside her. There were at least five conversations going on at once, and everyone seemed so happy. I listened to Liza's conversation with Jean about Maes, who seemed to be her son. After a while, I caught sight of Elysia's face. She wasn't looking at them, but I could tell she was listening because every time they said Maes's name, her lips would tighten. And then I remembered: Her father's name had been Maes. I quickly looked away and pretended I hadn't noticed.

Soon, the doorbell rang yet again, and Elysia hopped to her feet to answer it once more. There was a sudden influx of noise and greetings, and then with a breathless rush a new group of people entered the room. I could tell they were a family; they all had blond hair, and there was something about their faces that made them all look alike. The man who seemed to be the father had a long ponytail and a small beard, and he was carrying a little girl who waved happily at all the people in the room. His wife called her greetings to everyone, lifting the casserole dish in her hands to indicate she couldn't hug anybody, and disappeared into the kitchen. Behind her stood a man who bore such a strong resemblance to the father that they had to be brothers, and he was holding the hand of another girl.

"Nina!" Elysia called, holding out her arms, and the girl slipped away from the man to throw herself into Elysia's arms. The other girl squirmed to get out of her father's arms, and when he set her down, she rushed over as well. Elysia hugged them with a happy smile and said excitedly, "Hey girls, wanna come up to my room and play dolls?"

"Yeah!" they both cried.

Elysia took them both by the hands and began to lead them out of the room. I felt distinctly out of place with all these strangers, so I followed too. I've always sort of liked little girls. Boys are brats, but I think little girls are sweet. Elysia dug out a box of her old dolls, and the four of us played dress-up with them.

At one point, the smaller of the two girls called to me, "Big girl! Help!"

As I reached over to help her pull a dress over the doll's head, the older of the two girls said, "Trisha, don't call her that. What's your name?" she asked me, surprisingly polite.

"Gloria," I said, and I couldn't suppress a smile.

"I'm Twisha!" Trisha announced proudly.

Elysia caught my eye, and we burst into giggles.

Before long, we were called back downstairs to eat. There were so many people that, even with the extra leaves pulled out, we couldn't all sit at the dining room table. So Elysia and I ate in the kitchen with Nina and Trisha. The food was very, very good. Besides Gracia's wonderful cooking, the other women had all brought at least one dish, and before long I had stuffed myself so full I thought I would burst.

After a dessert of three different kinds of cake or pie, everyone went to the sitting room and exchanged presents. I couldn't keep from smiling as I watched people opening presents around me, exclaiming over them, and thanking those who had given them. It felt like I was encased in a happy golden bubble. Mr. Mustang showed Liza the fancy gold-tipped ballpoint pen Gracia had given him, and Liza said with a laugh, "Perhaps now you'll get your paperwork done faster, sir?"

Mr. Mustang smiled warmly at his wife and squeezed her hand. "Of course I will – so I can spend more time with you."

"Gowia!" Trisha called, holding up the doll she had just received as a present. I turned to help her put the dress on, and caught sight of her father (who, I had discovered, was none other than the famous Edward Elric). He unwrapped a present, and pulled out a large book. Even as I watched, he grinned and kissed his wife on the cheek.

I hadn't expected to get any presents myself, but to my surprise Elysia came to me with a huge grin on her face and a heavy present in her arms. "Merry Christmas, Gloria!"

I opened the present, and saw that it was a book of Drachman folklore. I flashed a big smile at Elysia; I had a feeling this was going to be the best present I would get this year.

The Mustangs left soon after the gift-giving, taking with them the present Gracia had intended to give to Maes. Gracia made tea, and everyone sat around rather sleepily, making lazy conversation and sipping their hot drinks. Nina and Trisha both eventually ended up on their father's lap, and he sat with an arm around each of them, resting his head on Nina's fair hair and looking rather sleepy himself.

I found myself staring at the three of them. It looked.... Well, I wasn't used to seeing something like that. My father left us when I was really little, like I said, so I can barely even remember him. But...there is one thing I remember that sticks out beyond all the rest, though I don't really like to talk about it much. I remember him shouting at my mom, calling her stupid and a lot of worse things. Then I came into the room, and he shouted at me too. I can still remember exactly what he said: "Get out, you stupid girl!"

But Edward was nothing like my dad. He didn't shout, or call his wife stupid. Nina and Trisha climbed into his lap, and he didn't push them away. He held them.

After a while, Winry Elric suggested it was time to leave, and the three adults juggled the girls between them as they tried to put on their coats. Finally, Edward had to shake them gently awake. I was close enough to hear him murmur softly, "Wake up, my beautiful ones. Wake up." The girls were grumpy, but they got their coats on and the little family made their way outside to a chorus of goodbyes.

Once they were gone, the room seemed much emptier somehow, and soon the others began to leave as well, till there was no one left but Elysia, Gracia, and I. The women had helped wash the mountain of dishes before they left, so we only had to pick up the trash littered around the sitting room.

It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time I crawled into the sleeping bag in Elysia's room, but I couldn't get to sleep. For some reason, I kept on seeing Edward with his two little daughters in his lap. And that image wouldn't let me sleep.

I don't really know what it's like to have a dad – a real dad. I don't know what it's like to be held in someone's arms like that. My dad never did that...or if he did, I don't remember it. As I lay in the darkness, I wondered what it would be like to sit in a father's lap, with his warm arms around me. I wondered what it would be like to feel a bristly chin resting on the top of my head. I realized that I...I want those things. I want a real father.

I don't like to cry. It makes your nose run and your eyes get all itchy for hours, and it's really hard to hide it when you've been crying. And crying is the perfect excuse for teasing, so I've taught myself from a young age to keep those tears locked inside. If I cry in front of anyone, they'll either laugh at me or make me feel even more awkward than I already do. Sometimes, when I really can't keep away the tears, I lock myself in the bathroom and bury my face in a towel so no one can hear me.

I guess I thought Elysia would be asleep, or I didn't realize that tears were coming. At any rate, I cried as I lay in the darkness. I cried for the father I've never had. I cried for a wish that would never be fulfilled. If you cry when you're lying down, your tears run into your ears. That's very uncomfortable, so I sat up as I cried, trying to muffle my face in the sleeping bag.

But I guess sleeping bags don't work as well as towels, or maybe Elysia wasn't as sound of a sleeper as I'd thought. After I'd been crying for a few minutes, I felt her arms around me. That almost made it worse, I think. I started crying harder, and when she started rubbing my back soothingly, I threw my arms around her as well. I don't think I've ever cried so much at one time.

Once my tears had begun to subside, Elysia asked softly, "What is it?"

I pulled away from her, ran the back of my hand across my nose, and began to talk. I told her everything. All about my dad, and how much I wanted one. I'd never told anyone these things before. There had never been anyone to listen. But Elysia listened. She held my hand, and she listened. And slowly, as I continued to talk, I began to suspect that she knew what I was talking about.

When I had run out of words, Elysia took a deep breath and said in a trembling whisper, "I...didn't know my dad, either. And sometimes...when I see someone else's dad...I wish they were mine."

I looked at her, but I couldn't see her face in the dim light. Still, I could tell she was crying. I didn't really know what to do, so I just squeezed her hand tight and hoped she understood.

After a while, Elysia reached over and turned on her little bedside lamp, which was shaped like a fairy. In its soft golden glow, she found a box of tissues and handed me one. Once our noses were blown and our eyes dry, Elysia stood up and walked over to one of her many teddy bears strewn about the room. She brought it back to me and put it in my arms.

I stared down at it, confused. It was a smallish one, with shaggy golden hair that somehow reminded me of Edward. "My dad gave it to me," Elysia explained softly. "In his will, he left a special sum of money for me. He said that it was for my birthdays. On each birthday until my eighteenth, Mom uses some of the money to buy me a teddy bear, because that's what he told her to do in his will. It's like he's still alive, kind of. Like he's just really far away and has to send me presents instead of being here to give them to me himself."

Elysia reached over and pulled a tag off the bear's neck. I saw words written on it: For my beautiful Elysia. "I want you to have it," Elysia told me.

"What? No, I couldn't! It's-" I wanted to say that it was one of the few links she still had to her father, but the words caught in my throat. I knew I was holding in my hands a physical demonstration of a kind of love that was completely alien to me.

Elysia smiled that pretty smile of hers. "I already have fourteen other bears. But you don't have any. Please take it."

I looked down at the teddy bear, which almost seemed to smile up at me. "Thank you," I whispered.

We went to bed after that, and I slept till eight. When I woke up, I found my arm curled around the teddy bear. I put it safely away in my bag, and helped Elysia and Gracia with more cleaning up after the party the night before. I brought leftovers home, and somehow even the loud voices in my house couldn't bother me. We went to the service in the afternoon, and I smiled as I heard the choir singing the song the angels had sung: Gloria in excelsis Deo. Glory to God in the highest. They sang my name.

And when I pulled the bear out of my bag that night, I saw a new tag around its neck. In Elysia's handwriting were the words: Gloria quoque pulchera es.

And that means: Gloria, you're beautiful too.