The Homecoming
Disclaimer: All characters, etc. belong to their proper owners.
A/N: This is a collaborative effort on the part of me and AlisonLydon here, so you're going to get elements from both of us. This'll be interesting. It is set at Christmastime, so you get it now. Let's see where it goes, shall we?
Chapter One: Candy Cane Label
Drake Parker couldn't believe his luck. He was failing English. Well, that was no surprise. He was used to that. But now Mrs. Hayfer wasn't suggesting a tutor or remedial English or a little sibling. No, this time she decided to pull out some extra credit, but not just any extra credit, mind you. This was extra credit designed to humiliate him. And he didn't have any choice. If he didn't pass this year, he was in severe danger of not graduating. First he had to be in the Christmas pageant...oh, the Holiday pageant. Students like Craig and Eric had to feel like they were a part of the holiday celebration. Then he had to go caroling with the choir. The same choir that stole his song from him at the talent show a few years ago and nearly beat him with it. This was completely ridiculous. What did that have to do with English? Okay, so they were studying plays, but caroling with the choir? Who was Mrs. Hayfer kidding? He knew why she added that to his agony: she hated him.
Why must he be burdened with these things during the holidays? It meant he had to hang around the school after all classes were dismissed to rehearse. It also meant he had to hang around with Hewitt and the Belleview High Choral Society Clones. Some Christmas this was going to be. Days he could spend searching for his gifts were going to be spent learning harmonies that must be of perfection. It was enough to make him gag. Not to mention the fact that he now had lines to learn. At least it would all be over come Christmas break. The moment he got home, he was not going to touch a single book. Not that he did now, but that wasn't the point.
He had just gotten home from one of these rehearsals that he couldn't stand. To make the day even more enjoyable, the student director had yelled at him in front of the entire cast for not knowing his lines. The girl really needed to calm down. So what if he couldn't remember what he was supposed to say? What, he was going to ruin the play because he couldn't remember six lines of dialogue? Did anyone care who St. Nicholas really was? All kids cared about these days was Santa Claus and the presents they were going to get that year.
Drake walked into the kitchen, in search of food.
"Don't eat now, Drake," said Audrey. "You'll spoil your dinner."
Drake sighed. At the age of seventeen, he still couldn't eat before dinner. He'd be good and hungry again in another hour. What was the point in waiting? He walked into the living room when Megan did.
"Megan, would you please get the mail, sweetie?" Audrey called from the kitchen.
"Drake said he'd get it," Megan called back.
"I did not," Drake said.
"Just go get it," said Megan, running back up the stairs.
Drake shook his head and went to get the mail. Megan couldn't do one simple task, could she? Drake was disappointed that Josh wasn't home yet. Otherwise, Drake could have made him do it.
Drake carried the mail back inside, flipping through the stack. Bill, bill, Christmas card, credit card application, bill, a letter. Letters didn't come very often. The handwritten word used in communication was quickly fading. Drake glanced at the return address. Cambridge, Massachusetts. Drake frowned and tossed the mail on the counter.
"Thank you, Drake," said his mother.
Drake ignored her, though. The perfect little letter in a perfect little green envelope with a perfect little candy cane stamp in the corner. The address was even written in perfect handwriting. It made Drake sick to his stomach. He would have thought it was another Christmas card had it not been the size of a regular envelope. Then he saw the return address. He knew it wasn't a card. It was a letter. And Drake would sell his fender strat for half of what it was worth before he read that letter.
