"Pam called me over the weekend," Matt said in greeting as he followed him into his office after school on Tuesday. Matt usually called his parents by their names rather than saying "your mom" or "your dad."

"I know. She asked me if she could before she did."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Why did you say yes?"

"Because she was worried, and she thought you could help."

"And why do you think she was worried?"

"She told you, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear what you think. Tell me what happened."

"Well, I was at school, and I kind of freaked out. In front of a ton of people, and Cooper and Syd."

"What do you mean by 'freaked out?'"

"Are you seriously going to make me parse out every sentence?"

"I did minor in English," Matt joked. "But seriously, I want to know how you experienced what happened. 'Freaked out' can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I just started shouting about how I kinda missed my mo-Marilyn and how hard it is pretending to be this other guy. Cooper and Syd were just being nice, and I just shouted at them and ran away."

"When you say that you're 'pretending' to be someone else, what does that mean?"

"Um, isn't that obvious?"

"No, it's not. Other than putting a different legal name on some papers, is anyone asking you to actually be any different? Talk differently? Dress differently?"

"Um… no."

"Okay, so what are you pretending?"

"I don't know… that I'm Blaine Anderson. That I'm not constantly tired by just being me."

"Okay."

"I just ... it's just hard for me to try to keep being the me that I was before, because it keeps making me think of her, and then I have a harder time remembering my name and that my parents are my parents. And then I get so tired of it that I freak out. Like I did on Wednesday."

Matt nodded, looking satisfied with the explanation. "What happened next?"

"I dunno, I just tried to not make even more of a scene so I hid out in the school until I could calm down. My teacher – he's apparently, like, Cooper's best friend or something – found me and helped me calm down."

"How did he do that?"

He glared at Matt for a moment. "When did we start playing 20 Questions?"

"When you decided that you were going to participate in therapy."

"Touché."

"Now, how did your teacher help you calm down?"

Blaine settled back in his chair and thought back to Wednesday afternoon. "Um, he just talked to me, mostly about Cooper. And he gave me gum?"

"And it worked?"

"Yeah, it was nice to not think about anything else for a minute."

"And how often do you think you feel like that in a typical week?"

"What do you mean?"

"How often do you wish you could just 'freak out' to let out your frustration?"

"All the time?" he suggested with a chuckle.

"Really?"

"Sometimes it feels like that. I mean, sometimes I feel great and I can forget that everything in my life is crazy. But sometimes everyone around me just seems to want something that I can't give."

"You know how I like to practice breathing and mindfulness with you?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to teach you a couple more strategies that I think will work to help you calm down when you're at school, or out with your family, or somewhere where you can't stop and do spontaneous yoga."

He grinned. Matt was always good at adding humor and levity to his serious situations.

"Your teacher actually did a really good job. Him giving you the piece of gum to focus on was like that time I had you think about eating the clementine, remember?"

He nodded. Now that Matt pointed it out, he realized that he had paid extra attention to the minty smell, the cold-fresh taste on his tongue, and the rhythm of his chews.

"This first one is called the 5-4-3-2-1 Game."

He'd been embarrassed the first few days back at school after Thanksgiving break. He was so sure that now that they'd seen him crack, his classmates were going to treat him differently. Every moment, even when he was sitting in class, ostensibly paying attention to his teachers' lectures, was filled with apprehension about how his (maybe) friends would react to him now.

But at lunch, the first real break in the day, the first time for all the boys to catch up after the long weekend, nothing happened. Nothing out of the normal, that is. Jeff was attempting to finish his calculus homework that he'd neglected over break in time for his sixth period class, and Nick was making a point of distracting his friend. Trent made polite conversation with him about family dinners and football games. No one asked him about his freak out.

The only person who did treat him differently was Mr. Hoffman. But even that wasn't a bad kind of different. When the bell rang to dismiss their class, Mr. Hoffman called him to hang back a moment.

"I just wanted to check in with you after last Wednesday," he said, leaning back against his desk. Somehow, Mr. Hoffman always managed to create the most comfortable environment in his classes.

"I kinda figured you'd have already checked in with Cooper?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I didn't want you to think that I was purposely trying to keep my friendship with Cooper, or my involvement in the website, a secret. I just didn't want to make you feel more uncomfortable by bringing it up."

Ha paused for a second to gather his thoughts. This wasn't what he'd expected. Truthfully, there had been a brief, fleeting moment when he'd felt betrayed by the teacher. Betrayed because Mr. Hoffman had treated him like a normal kid, all the while knowing the most about how not-normal he was. But that thought had evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. More than anything, he was grateful for the support he'd received from his computer teacher, and he was glad that Cooper had apparently had that same support, too.

"I get it," he finally said, not sure he was accurately explaining himself. "I mean, I think if I had known all of that, I would have been more uncomfortable. It was just a little awkward to learn it like that, but I'm glad."

Mr. Hoffman smiled widely and breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I think Cooper would kill me if he learned I'd upset his baby brother."

He laughed. "Yeah, he's definitely doing his best to fulfill that big brother role, isn't he?"

Mr. Hoffman turned serious for a moment. "He really wanted to be able to do that all along. You do know how much this means to him, right?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I'm starting to. Thanks, Mr. Hoffman."

He left the classroom feeling lighter than he had in weeks, even before the Thanksgiving freak-out.

Considering how stressful Thanksgiving had been, he'd expected that Christmas would be an even bigger deal. Yet as the days passed by in December, the only hints of celebrations or plans that he noticed were when his parents pulled the boxes of decorations from the attic and asked him to spend a Saturday cutting down a tree and decorating with them.

Pam made hot chocolate and baked shortbread cookies and they played Christmas music on the radio as they put decorations on the tree. Even though much of the house looked like it belonged in a magazine, the tree looked homey and welcoming, and certainly like a style editor would have a fit at the mere sight of it. The ornaments that they hung represented memories. There were Pittsburgh Steelers ornaments, and flamingos with beer bellies and santa hats from trips to Florida. There was a sloppily-colored clothespin reindeer that Cooper had made in kindergarten.

And there was a tiny blue bear holding a picture of a red-cheeked baby with the words Baby's First Christmas – 1995 written on it.

Blaine held it in his hand and stared at it in awe. He'd never seen baby pictures of himself. Marilyn had said they'd all burned up in the fire, and everything that Cooper had posted on the website had been from when he was four, or digitally edited to make him look older.

But there he was. Five months old, with the same dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same dimples.

It was something small, something simple. But it seemed like a revelation to him.

His parents noticed the change in his demeanor almost instantly. Pam was at his side, and wrapped an arm warmly around him as she looked down at the ornament. His dad put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We always used to put that one at the top of the tree," his mom said. "Our little angel, looking down on all of us. But now that you're back, well, you can put it wherever you want."

Blaine nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. With all the big gestures of love and dedication that his parents had presented over the last several months, this was the one that got to him. This was the one that knocked him down. A picture of him when he was a baby, before he'd been turned into someone else.

That kid was so innocent. He had no idea what was coming.

He gently broke from his parents' holds and walked to the tree. It felt like this was a make-or-break decision, like the ornament placement would reveal some big secret.

Finally he found the right branch and hung the little blue bear, nestled near a scarlet bauble with Christmas 2010 written across it in golden script. First Christmas together and last Christmas apart.

Christmas shopping had never been harder. He worried that if he got the gifts for his family wrong now, all the progress he'd made would be erased. Matt tried working with him to reduce the anxiety and assured him that his parents' love didn't rely on store-bought items, but he was still a bundle of nerves and anxiety as he wandered through the mall on a Saturday afternoon in mid-December.

The holiday commotion around him kept bringing forth memories of Christmases past. He thought of the year Marilyn had taken him to the local mall for a children's Polar Express party. Everyone had been wearing their pajamas, like the kids on the train in the book, and each got hot chocolate and a little bell from Santa's sleigh.

He thought about how just last year he and Marilyn had planned their perfect Christmas celebration. They drove through one of the neighborhoods with the giant houses and gazed at the Christmas light displays on Christmas Eve before going home to a lasagna for dinner. He didn't know how the lasagna tradition had started, but they'd eaten one every Christmas Eve that he could remember. Christmas morning started late, with cookies and cocoa for breakfast. Then they each unwrapped their small piles of presents under the tree and took an afternoon walk to a local movie theater.

He loved everything about Christmas, and he needed this Christmas to be just as perfect.

He was at a table in the food court, munching on a soft pretzel to replenish his energy, when he heard his name called from a few feet away. It still was a bit jarring to hear "Blaine!" instead of "Peter!" but he rarely forgot anymore, and had nearly kicked the habit of answering whenever a teacher called on Peter McDaniels, a boy in several of his classes.

But this was definitely someone calling out to him.

He looked up and found Jeff, Nick, Trent, and a few other boys he recognized from the Warblers walking his way, clad in their school uniforms.

"Blaine! What's up?" Jeff greeted happily.

"Not much. Just trying to figure out what to buy people for Christmas," he said. He felt much more confident around his classmates these days, helped by the fact that they no longer found him to be such an interesting subject.

"Leaving it a little late, aren't you?" Jeff joked.

Blaine shrugged.

"Well, we're just taking a hydration break before our performance. Want to come watch?"

He followed the boys to the center of the mall. A small stage was set up next to the gigantic tree and "Santa's Workshop" where children were lined up to take pictures with Santa. The Warblers stood in formation and began a medley of Christmas songs. Soon enough, they'd attracted a fairly substantial crowd. He allowed himself to be swept up in the spirit of the moment and found a lot of his holiday anxiety swiftly melted away.

He cheered with the rest of the crowd when the performance was over and congratulated his friends when they came off the stage, panting from the adrenaline rush.

"That was great, guys!" he said, smiling widely. He high-fived a few of the boys that he was closer with.

"Thanks, man," Jeff said. "Hey, we're having a Warblers Christmas party at my house tonight. Want to come? You're, like, Warblers royalty with a brother like Cooper Anderson, so you're always welcome."

He nearly turned his friend down. The "no" was about to roll off his tongue, when he thought better of it. "I'd have to ask my, um, my parents," the words felt awkward and clunky in his mouth, but not unwelcome, "but yeah, that sounds fun!"

"Great!"

Jeff quickly texted him the details, before he and the other Warblers had to depart on the school-chartered bus.

Maybe this Christmas would be even better than the last.

He wasn't exactly sure what kind of party to expect. He'd been to a few house parties back in Sacramento, mostly with theatre kids. Those parties had alcohol and hormones flowing as freely as the showtunes. But would Dalton parties be more restrained? Or would the rigid school environment result in kids going absolutely nuts when they blew off steam?

As he walked up Jeff's front steps, he heard heavy footsteps pounding behind him. He turned around and saw Trent running to catch up to him.

"Hey, Blaine! Glad you came!"

"Me too," he said, shivering slightly in the chill evening. Ohio winters were going to take some getting used to. Sure, he'd seen some snow in his time, but Sacramento didn't usually get this cold.

Inside Jeff's home, boys milled around. He recognized all of them from school and the performance earlier, but could only name a handful of them. He stuck to Trent's side, following the younger boy, who seemed to know the layout of the home, back to the kitchen for snacks and drinks.

It was definitely higher-scale than parties he'd attended back in Sacramento, but the signature red solo cups were still present. He grabbed one for himself and began preparing a drink, trying not to feel so self-conscious as he reached for the large handle of rum on the counter. Trent was apparently more of a novice than he was and followed his lead in selecting alcohol and mixers.

Blaine grabbed a handful of Chex Mix as he followed Trent into the home's living room. Boys were seated on the couches and leaning up against walls. There was music playing over the speakers, only faintly audible over the buzz of conversation.

As the minutes passed and he nursed his drink, he began to relax. Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol on his system, or the fact that no one seemed to look at him like he was different, even though all these boys had seen him at his worst back at Thanksgiving. Regardless of the reason, he grew comfortable enough to join in a conversation that a group of boys, including Jeff and Nick from his lunch table, were having near him.

Two hours and two more drinks later, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed, happy, and at ease. Probably at the cast party for the spring musical at SHS, or when hanging out with Sydney and a few of his other friends back at a park near the school.

Over in one corner of the room, a group of boys had pulled out a deck of cards and were playing some game. A few of the singers' girlfriends had showed up earlier, and the girls were trying to get their boyfriends to dance with them as they turned the music up.

He leaned against a doorframe, content to be a fly on the wall at this party, when he noticed Sebastian wink at him from across the room. He blushed and looked down into his cup. When he next looked up, Sebastian was standing in front of him.

"Hey," Sebastian said, leaning in close to his ear. Probably closer than necessary, considering that the party wasn't that loud.

"Um, hi," he mumbled.

"So what's your deal?" Sebastian asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how are you still single? Or do you have a boyfriend back in California?"

He nearly choked on the sip of his drink. "Um, no. No boyfriend."

"Lucky me."

He tried to back away, forgetting that he was already standing against a wall.

"Ever since I saw your face on the news, all I could think was, damn. You and your brother are unfairly blessed. God, your dad's probably such a DILF."

"Um, thanks?" As soon as Sebastian had mentioned seeing his face on the news, he'd sobered up. Of course Sebastian wasn't really interested in him. He was interested in the sensation.

"What d'you say we ditch this party and have one of our own?" Sebastian suggested.

The tension in the air between the two boys grew thick. He didn't find Sebastian unattractive; quite the opposite, actually. He knew from Jeff that Sebastian could be crude and liked to play the field, but he would have been willing to give the other boy the benefit of the doubt. Would have, in any other situation. But here and now they were both tipsy, and Sebastian had shown his hand and had revealed that he wasn't interested in him but in some made-up idea about him.

"I don't think so, Sebastian," he said, trying to be firm.

"Oh, come on, no one will notice if we duck away for a few minutes," Sebastian said.

He could have been tempted. The alcohol clouding his brain was making it difficult for him to think straight. Instead, he shifted his gaze and made eye contact with Jeff. The blonde boy was next to him within seconds, as if he'd teleported across the crowded room.

"Hey guys," Jeff said. He'd managed a perfectly casual tone, as if he didn't know what he was interrupting, and Blaine was eternally grateful that he had been randomly assigned as Jeff's lab partner on the first day of school. "I think we're going to play a round of charades. Want to join?"

He nodded with more enthusiasm than charades probably deserved. "Yeah, Jeff, sounds great."

Sebastian barely had a moment to react before he was following Jeff across the room.

"I'm assuming that's what you wanted, right?" Jeff asked in a low voice.

"Yes," he breathed. "Thanks for the save."

"If he keeps bothering you at school, just let me or one of the other guys know, okay? We can run interference."

He smiled gratefully and found a seat on the floor near Trent. Neither boy was drinking any more, so they sat and observed their friends messily attempt charades, often forgetting that they weren't allowed to speak.

He'd completely sobered up by the time Pam called him to say she was outside the house at 11 and he was ready to go home.

Cooper arrived a few days before Christmas, and the holiday cheer in the home, already at a high level, increased impossibly more. Still, none of the Thanksgiving tension was present, and he was thankful for that.

Cooper spent most of the first days he was there bragging about a bit-part in a Hallmark Christmas movie he'd booked and filmed earlier in the year, and he forced the family to sit down and watch it together whenever it aired.

Blaine texted Sydney while watching Cooper's movie, knowing his friend loved this sort of cheesy romance flick. She'd been delighted to hear that someone she actually knew was in one of the holiday movies and she hadn't been disappointed by it at all. He thought that it was a shame that Syd and her family weren't here for this holiday, because she was probably the only person who could provide Cooper with the level of enthusiasm he desired for his film.

Christmas Eve came and it was different from what he'd expected. Around seven in the evening, the family packed into the car and drove across town to meet Pam's parents at a church for a vigil mass. He hadn't realized that they were religious at all. He certainly wasn't; he'd never gone to a church of any kind with Marilyn. He'd have to ask if he had been baptized as a kid. That was the sort of thing most people knew, right?

He watched Pam closely to pick up cues for when he should stand or sit and what to say. It made him feel a little closer to her, in an odd way, but he'd definitely choose another day playing hooky at the zoo before going back to church.

After the service let out, they said goodbye to the grandparents and went back home. He'd noticed that Pam's father (grandpa, he reminded himself) had slipped a box into James' hands while they were chatting in the parking lot, but he hadn't paid it much mind as he'd been too busy shivering in the cold.

Now that they were defrosting in the living room with hot chocolates (his being the only one that wasn't filled with a little extra Christmas cheer), however, he noticed the box again. This time, it was sitting on the coffee table, next to the stack of magazines that Pam had haphazardly piled up to clear space.

Everyone seemed to be glancing between the box and Blaine, tension building in the room, until he finally broke the silence.

"So… what's going on?"

Cooper grinned, and passed the box to him. "Open it and find out."

He was careful with the wrapping paper, trying to avoid ripping it unnecessarily, while also buying time to try to figure out what the looks on his family's faces meant. Finally, though, he could dawdle no longer: the paper was off the box, now revealed as a Nike shoe box, and all he had left to do was lift the lid.

Only to reveal Jar Jar Binks wearing a Santa suit.

"Um… what?" he finally managed to say.

Pam, James, and Cooper burst into laughter. At least he now knew that this was not meant to be a heartfelt gift that he should treasure. He just didn't know what it was supposed to be.

"Welcome to the family," Cooper said, wiping a tear from his eye.

He became even more confused at that.

"Dad was a huge Star Wars fan back in the day," Cooper elaborated. "Grandpa knew nothing about the movies, but being a good father-in-law, he decided to buy this for dad as a Christmas gift the year Phantom Menace came out. This was back when we'd do big family Christmases because all the kids were still young, so everyone got to witness Dad unwrapping the worst thing that had ever happened to Star Wars and being too polite to tell his father-in-law that it was a monstrosity."

It was a funny story, but he still didn't understand why he now had to deal with Jar Jar.

"Luckily our cousin Jack had no filter – still doesn't, as a matter of fact – and he quickly filled Grandpa in on the joke. Next year rolled around, and Jack unwraps his gift from Mom and Dad only to find it's Jar Jar. Since then, we've passed it on to some unlucky family member at every holiday or family gathering."

Oh. This seemed, somehow, more important than meeting the family at Thanksgiving. This was a sign that he'd been fully and completely pulled into the fold.

"Well, uh, thanks," he said. He didn't know how to convey how much this meant to him, but he was pretty sure that they already knew. That was why he'd been gifted Jar Jar.

Christmas morning was a simple family affair, much like the Christmases he'd celebrated in the past. He liked that it felt so familiar, even with a family he was still learning about. After cleaning up the wrapping paper and finishing calling other family members to wish them a happy holiday, he found himself in the kitchen with his mom, helping her to wash the breakfast dishes.

"Is there anything special that you want to do today?" she asked as she passed a plate that needed drying over to him.

"I'm fine with whatever," he answered.

"No," she said, "I mean, are there any Christmas traditions that you - that you used to do? That you want to continue?"

He froze. She'd never so directly asked him about his time with Marilyn, and he'd thought that she wanted to erase all traces of the other woman from his life. Isn't that why they had fought over the backpack and replaced his entire wardrobe with items Marilyn had never touched?

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "We used to drive around to look at the lights and go for a walk after opening presents."

"Oh, a walk sounds lovely," his mom said. "After all the cookies I've been eating lately, I could definitely use a walk."

He was bundled in his new winter boots and new winter coat and new woolen scarf, hat, and glove set, but he was still freezing. Why had he suggested a walk in Ohio in December?

It was one thing to go for a Christmas Day walk in Sacramento where it rarely dropped to even the low 40s, but here it was a balmy 30 degrees and snowing. The rest of his family, however, didn't seem to mind. His parents held hands as they strolled ahead, and Cooper stopped every few feet to make a snowball and toss it where he pleased – his father, his mother, a tree, a mailbox, his brother…

Yes, the crisp air was refreshing, and it was nice to incorporate an old tradition with his new-old family, but why couldn't he have just suggested the movie theater?

Finally, Pam noticed his shivering and ushered the family into the closest open business, a dark wooden bar that looked like it hadn't been updated in decades. The bartender didn't blink as three adults and a sixteen-year-old all sat at his counter, and he was quick to whip up hot chocolates and put in an extra large order of french fries.

Cooper took a long gulp of his stout and spun his stool so he was facing the rest of his family. "This is fun. Why haven't all our Christmas celebrations ended in a bar?"