Cheer-Stained: One Week In Westbridge
by The Jessica X

Libby, Sabrina, et al. are © Archie Comics / Hartbreak / Paramount / Whatever.
Adymm, the members of In Absinthia, and this work of fiction are © myself.

The dialogue from the first bit of this chapter is (mostly) stolen from the show; sorry, but it worked out too well to toss it out. And by the way, I know this is my worst chapter title ever, thanks.

Chapter 10: To Ski Or Not To Ski

"'Happy Holidays from the York family'."

Roxie glanced over Sabrina's shoulder at the Christmas card she was reading from. "More like the 'Dork' family," she muttered, sitting down across from me with her no-longer-frozen entrée. "What is it about Christmas that makes people want to wear matching outfits?"

"Oh, the Yorks dress alike for every holiday. Last St. Patrick's Day, they were all leprechauns. Cute on the baby... disturbing on everyone else."

Both Roxie and I snorted.

"Speaking of disturbing," Morgan said from the kitchen as she poured herself a cup of tea, "Josh can't come home with me for Christmas. His family is dragging him to Aruba to stay at some five-star resort on the beach. Poor thing... he'll be pining for me all week."

As the three of us were exchanging a look behind Morgan's back, Miles emerged from his Fortress of Solitude, bulging duffel in tow. "Well, time for another joyous, uplifting Chanukkah with my family. Ooh, I almost forgot my antacid."

"Y'know," Sabrina piped up, "I've never been to a Chanukkah celebration. What does your family do?"

"We light candles, spin the dreidel, and then twelve people attack a helpless brisket. Better take the Imodium A-D." He dove past Morgan into the kitchen cabinets again.

"Sounds rough," I said bracingly. "Bring us back some Kosher wine?"

He laughed bitterly as he stuffed the bottles into his duffel. "If there's any left. Well, I'm off to my parents' - unless I'm abducted by aliens on the way, God willing." And he was out the door.

I cleared my throat. "So Roxie, what are your holiday plans?"

"The usual," she shrugged, stuffing a fork full of... whatever into her mouth. I was afraid to ask. "We put up an aluminium tree, get take-out from Taco Bell and then I watch my dad and stepmom exchange cartons of Winston Lights."

"Your family exchanges cigarettes?" Morgan scoffed in disbelief.

Roxie stood up with her tray. "Hey, it's just not Christmas without a visit from jolly old Saint Nicotine." With those sardonic parting words, she retired to her chambers.

"I guess I should feel thankful," Morgan breathed as she plopped down in the now-empty chair. "Next to these guys, Christmas with my family seems so... normal."

"ANY Christmas compared to last year's will seem normal to me," I sighed, stretching. "They deck the halls for you at Swords Academy... and the only present I got was lukewarm figgy pudding for desert, which is even worse than it sounds."

Sabrina's eyes glazed over. "Yeah... just once I'd like to have the perfect white Christmas in the country; ski-chalet in Vermont, sleigh rides, roasted goose, cutting down your own tree..."

"Throw in some homemade pfeffernüesse and you've just described Christmas with my family," Morgan said with a wry smile.

"Wow!" She shook her little blonde head. "Nothing says Christmas like goose and pfeffernüesse."

"I miss ski weekends," I breathed with a wistful grin.

Morgan nodded, sifting through her mail for a minute, then perked up. "Hey! Sabrina, why don't you come with me? Oh, it would be so great to have some company along!"

"Oh, I'd love to, but... I kinda promised Libby we'd have Christmas together, and it might seem a touch rude to ditch her when she's sleeping in my house."

"Just a smidge," I laughed.

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "That's right... well, she's invited, too! We've got plenty of room at the cabin, I'm sure - I'll just call and ask the parents!"

"Great!" we crowed at the same time; Morgan grinned, then flounced up the stairs.

"Oh, if this only works," I said through clenched teeth.

"I know! Can you imagine shooshing down the slopes, roasting chestnuts on an open fire while sipping mulled cider? God Almighty, I've always wanted that picture-perfect Christmas."

"Yeah, it's great..." When her jaw dropped indignantly, I hastily amended, "Not that I've ever had a Christmas EXACTLY like that, but I've experienced all those things seperately, at least?"

"Well yeah, I mean, I've been skiing before, too, but... you know what I mean."

"No, I totally get it." And we sighed in unison.

Just then, Morgan came stomping heavily back downstairs; her frustrated frown spoke volumes before it even opened. "Bad news, would-be skiers..."

"What, what?!" we said (enough with the unison!).

"Well, Mom said it sounded nice, but Dad put his foot down. He says he doesn't want a bunch of strangers hanging around the cottage - he's such a big, paranoid jerk. Sorry, guys."

"This is so unfair," I whined (...gracefully?). Okay, so I whine sometimes, but let the record show that that's usually Sabrina's job.

"I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind," Sabrina said determinedly, standing up.

"And who are you to be demanding things of other people's parents again?" I pointed out.

"Oh... you're right, who am I kidding?" She dropped back into the chair with a THUD!, burying her face in her arms. "This sucks."

"Morgan, I despise your father," I put in.

A hollow laugh. "Join the club. Well, I guess I better start packing... no hard feelings?"

"It's not your fault Christmas is ruined," came Sabrina's muffled reply.

"Maybe I can bring back some famous Cavanaugh eggnog for ya!" she called as she swept off to her room once again.

"Whoopty-doo."

- i o i o i o i o i o i o i o i -

Several hours later found the four of us crowded onto the couch, watching an antique VHS of "Home Alone" and trying not to feel depressed. And why shouldn't we be? Sabrina and I had lost the chance for a Rockwellian Christmas (we couldn't remotely afford to pull it off ourselves), Morgan wouldn't be bringing either Josh or her friends along, and Roxie... well, she was dealing with the whole tobacco stocking-stuffer thing.

Sometime right after our hopes had been shattered, Sabrina's Aunt Zelda called to ask her if she was sure she wasn't going to stop by for Christmas Dinner. Obviously, she had to tell her poor auntie the same thing she'd told the other one, and after several more minutes it finally took. They're so annoyingly adorable, aren't they?

Meanwhile, I felt a little guilty because... well, even though I was bummed about the ski trip, I was secretly enjoying this. So maybe we didn't have Jack Frost nipping at our noses, getting up early for a milk run on fresh powder, but I had had enough frost nipping at me to last several years. Besides, I didn't need some big exciting vacation; I actually got to spend some leisure time with my best friend, and that was plenty okay by me.

Too bad my opinion wasn't widely shared...

"Jesus, this movie is so bad," Morgan grumbled, throwing popcorn at the set. "The kid rigs up a blowtorch? I don't care if they are burglars - what a twisted, horrible child!"

"I say they had it coming." Roxie dislodged herself from between Sabrina and Morgan, opting to flip over the back of the couch rather than disturb our delicate spread of sinfully-indulgent snack items. "Anybody want anything while I'm up?"

"Nah," Sabrina muttered. "I'm still nursing my Swiss Miss."

"Do we have any more blankets?" I asked. "It's chilly in here..."

"Definitely," Roxie said with a small smile. "You, my friend, get all the blankets you want."

Sabrina took her eyes off Macaulay for a moment to glance over at me. "Hey, are you sure you've bounced back to full health? Maybe we should call-"

"Will you shut up already?" I hissed, trying not to smile. "You're gonna make me miss the touching part."

"This movie's one big 'touching part' interspersed with mindless carnage," Morgan groaned. "Can't we flip over to 'Prancer'?"

"I could do 'Prancer'," Sabrina said half-heartedly.

"No!" Roxie called from the bathroom. "That movie is a complete toothache-inducing sap-fest and I refuse to be party to it!"

Needless to say, without a unanimous alternative, we ended up watching "Home Alone" through to the end... and it never got any better. Not that it mattered - we enjoyed making fun of it, talking over it, and simply having a girls' night... something I usually didn't get, what with my circle of friends being a total sausagefest.

It took one night and a bad movie to wake me up to how castrated I felt down in N.Y.C. - or tubal-ligated? That is, I felt emasculated in a feminine way. And writing this paragraph has made me realise the lack of adjectives describing a loss of femininity. Either way, what I'm trying to say here is that the whole thing re-connected me with what it felt like to just be a girl, and let me tell you... I missed it.

- i o i o i o i o i o i o i o i -
END Chapter Ten