Chapter 9
A Wolf at the Door and a Puppy at the Window

The puppies were greeted with mixed feelings around the town. Some people argued we couldn't feed them all, others like Rosita latched on to one right away and refused to give hers up.

It was finally decided that if anyone wanted them they were required to take care of them on their own. Dad made me take one, since he now knew I was the mysterious elf that had been leaving things on our doorstep, though he thankfully kept that information private. I had found them so I was responsible for the majority of them anyways, though Rosita and Enid both helped a lot with nurturing them.

Back when the USA was still a functioning nation, Rosita used to volunteer at a local animal shelter and had been responsible for any abandoned puppies and kittens the facility took in, and that included feeding them. She showed us how to make formula for them with goat's milk, eggs, yogurt, mayonnaise, and some corn syrup we found hidden in the town pantry.

It didn't smell as bad as I thought it would, and when offered to the blind babies in some old bottles, they guzzled it all hungrily. We had to feed them every three hours and it was hard-pressed caring for them. One of them died in that first week. Rosita figured it was from pneumonia and she buried him in the graveyard next to Deanna's stone.

The others seemed to remain stable till the end of ten more days when their eyes opened and they began to actually walk rather than scoot around on their tummies. I started to favor a grey one with a white spot on the middle of its chest which I thought looked a bit like a star. I started calling him Sheriff after that.

I wasn't all that popular with the other kids in town, but puppies were like some kind of magical kid-nip or something that attracted them as easily as flies to honey. They never let slip an opportunity to pat one of them on the head when I came by.

Rosita chose one that was bright red with a white underbelly and called him Lincoln. He was a little slower than the others and slightly rounder in addition. She said he resembled a bit like a corgi.

Father Gabriel also took one that was white with two odd sort of brown streaks on her back-or wings as he decided. Angel seemed an appropriate name for her after that, and not just because of the wings but because she seemed to be the sweetest one in the litter.

The last one went to Enid who grew fond of the quiet black dog with bi-colored eyes, one blue and the other brown. She was by far the most beautiful dog among the four and was given a name that seemed just as perfect; Eclipse. This pup walked with a silent steady grace, and resembled the elegance and mystery of a lone wolf and was so much different from the others who were much more energetic and playful.

I loved those dogs. All of them.

They were such fluffy little things. When I fed them they'd give off tiny mews and barks and curl close to me, eager for affection and warmth. It rolled off of me in waves for them and I wondered if this was how parents felt when holding their children for the first time. I felt like a mama wolf with her little pups around her and wondered how I could have ever thought to leave them behind when Ram Dover and I came upon their attacked den.

I didn't like thinking about that moment. It made a large stab of guilt swirl all around me for such a heartless thought. Even if other people would have looked at them like burdens I knew, without a doubt, that I did the right thing.

Once they were big enough to eat solid foods they were handed out to their individual owners and followed them around everywhere. Even Little Sherriff tailed me whenever he could. Quite often, he found ways to escape the house or the back fence of our yard to look for me around town. He could find me anywhere. Even at school.

During my incarceration there was an awkward situation that took place right during class. I was sitting in my seat when Mrs. Lakely's lecture on the history of the United States was cut off abruptly by someone knocking on the door. All attention was diverted just then to find Negan standing in the doorway. I had never known our class to fall silent so fast.

"Um… c-can I help you, sir?" She said awkwardly.

"I just thought I'd see how the youth of Alexandria were doing these days."

She looked deeply uncomfortable with this idea. "Oh… uh… well no one told me you'd be dropping in and I'm… I don't…"

"Oh don't mind me." He said strolling in and taking a seat at one of the empty back tables which were used to explain the separate level math work we were all at, individually. "Go on with what you were saying. Just pretend I'm not here."

That was way easier said than done.

He faced forward and waited for the lesson to resume with apt attention on everyone. I faced forward before his eyes caught on me and kept my head down, knowing perfectly why he was here now. My neck got hot and I felt sick as I took in the shock of all my classmates.

I could hear everyone murmuring around me in hushed and fearful voices.

"Why is he here?"

"I thought he wasn't allowed…"

"Do you think it's because we're in trouble?"

"Well he must not have liked what he got today."

"You don't think he's here to take it out on us, do you?"

I remained silent, unable to move in my seat or contribute anything to the stunned conversations being thrown around. Eventually, Mrs. Lakely brought everyone's attention back towards her lecture, though it looked like she herself was having trouble concentrating with the intimidating audience.

It wasn't the first time he had sat in during a school activity. A few years ago he was present for the annual Christmas program and, let's just say, that had ended rather catastrophically. Though, I guess technically he hadn't intentionally caused it, I still consider his attendance to be the foundation of why it ended with such a proverbial mushroom cloud.

Flashback
I had had bad experiences with plays in the past. From the time I was very small I was prone to causing all sorts of trivial disturbances during our seasonal programs. Making faces while other children were in the middle of solos, picking my nose and stooping to wipe it on the floor, making spit bubbles with my mouth and tong, or merely swinging my arms back and forth instead of following the choreography along with everyone else the way we had been drilled to do for weeks.

For me it was the seasonal production of utter torment. I'm sure in my own personal version of hell there is a stage set with small children that is standing in a line to sing the worst choir songs ever fathomed forever and ever. And I am stuck as one of them; Stuck forever in a ridiculous costume singing off-pitch to the prompting of the lackadaisical efforts of a pianist who's too tone deaf to tell the difference between an F sharp and a C flat.

Even so, I wasn't the only one who dreaded those events. My antics were often met with identical looks of mortification from my family as they sat within the audience. Once I remember my father spending the better part of a whole spring concert with his head in his hands while I used the time digging for earwax absently, swinging my arms back and forth, making faces of boredom during solos, and doing jumping jacks instead of following the Itsy Bitsy Spider routine the instructor had taught us.

The year before the whole Negan and Savior mess we did a rendition of the Nativity Story. At this time, I was just beginning to learn more about Pagan cultures and traditions; I had an interest in them even before I met Vanessa. There was this book on the history of holidays that I pored over with great intrigue.

During a lesson on the birth of Christ and why we celebrate Christmas I interrupted Mrs. Lakely to stand up and tell everyone it was completely inaccurate because from the evidence found in the Bible and other scriptures, Jesus was born in late fall and not winter seeing as how it was doubtful any shepherd would have been out in the fields during such a bitter season. Furthermore, Christians had just stolen all these traditions from Pagan faiths. I went on to describe how the Bible was written by a bunch of sexist prejudice old men who kept contradicting themselves.

"They go on in circles about everything!" I announced. And I was so annoyed about it that I just couldn't stop ranting. "Really they say over and over again 'Do not learn the ways of the nations… they cut down a tree out of the forest and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter.' But after about maybe a hundred years of stealing traditions from other cultures they had the nerve to go off and say that cutting down the tree symbolizes the death of Jesus and that to stand it back up with tinsel and decorations symbolizes his glorious resurrection."

All I was trying to say was that if you're going to have a bleep about something, make sure you cover your ass about it!

I wasn't done with my rant as I went on to say the scripture strictly states that we aren't allowed to even celebrate these customs as it looked down upon all traditions stemming from any faith that wasn't Christianity since everyone who doesn't recognize Jesus as the savior is doomed to a life in hell anyways.

I was on a roll but before I could get very far everyone yelled at me like I was the bad guy.

One of the older girls, Lizzie Pelzer was her name, told me to shut up and that I was only a dumb little kid and my word was garbage.

My patience in all of this had been stretched thin and I ended up throwing a music book at her head. She cried about, so I was sent out and reported to my parents. I had secretly hoped that the burst of aggression would at least ban me from the performance but I was only grounded. Dad made me perform in the play anyways. I was given the humiliating role of a sheep and was told to follow one of the shepherds around on my hands and knees when they approached the manger.

While waiting outside though, Lizzie and her posse dumped snow down the back of my costume and I got so mad that I tore off her cardboard angle wings. After that, the teacher decided that since I was such a problem child I was told to sit in the audience with my family rather than having me on stage to cause another ruckus.

That was just fine with me! I wasn't there for other people's entertainment, anyways. They could sing to amuse themselves if they wanted-just leave me out of it!

The next day was Christmas. Unfortunately, that year Santa seemed to have skipped our house and whatever presents were waiting for me were withheld till next year. I received only a letter, explaining Santa's disappointment in me for my lack of self-control for the play and maybe I would be better by my birthday.

As an added disappointment, the outburst did not ban me for life. The following year an even bigger catastrophe unfolded.

The winter when I was seven the school was performing a play for a Christmas Hansel and Gretel. It was the adult's meager attempt to inspire cheer and goodwill among the community. Yet it did nothing to make people forget the situation we were still in with Negan and the Saviors.

The only one who showed any enthusiasm was Lizzie who'd been chosen to hold the main role of Gretel while a boy named Jim was chosen to be Hansel. Her irritating cheerful attitude grated on my nerves and I auditioned for the role of the Wicked Witch just to be given the opportunity to boss her around for a while and force her head into an over, even if it was only for pretend. It didn't go as planned since I was too short to pull off such a role and it was given to Lizzie's best friend Dora.

Instead, I was sentenced to the mortifying role of a cursed gingerbread girl who sang a song with two gingerbread boys about being imprisoned as cookies by the evil witch… And. It. Was. Dumb!

My costume consisted of white, pink, and teal striped candy cane tights, a short pleated blue and white skirt, and a brown sweatshirt with blue and pink puffballs sewn on it to resemble gumdrop buttons. To add to this humiliation my hair was tied up in two pigtails with bright pink and white striped ribbons, much like my candy cane tights.

Mrs. Lakely had assured me that I looked adorable, but my reflection spoke better truth; I looked ridiculous. The idea of dressing up in that horrifying monkey suit and putting on a show for everyone repulsed me so much that I'd purposefully skip on practice whenever I could. That didn't last long, though. When my dad found out what I'd been doing he personally dragged me to the performance hall every day after that.

Soon enough, the day of the play arrived and I stood with my companions on stage as we began to sing awkwardly. Before walking out though, I caught sight of a paint can someone had carelessly forgotten to remove from stage. It looked like it was anchoring one of the cut-out forest props so it wouldn't fall down so then maybe it hadn't been forgotten so much as positioned in the hope that no one would notice it.

My attention turned as the music began and the three of us started to sing.

"We three children under a spell!
Cookies now is how we do dwell!
Free us sister, Free us brother,
To return us to our fathers and mothers"

I sang nervously with the two gingerbread boys when suddenly, to my complete horror, I spotted several Saviors standing in the back along with Negan, of all people, leaning in one of the chairs as he sat with my dad, Michonne and Carl. Curious and angry glances from surrounding Alexandrians were shot towards him, but no one could say anything about this outrage even when they wanted to. So, they remained reluctantly silent about their attendance as the play proceeded.

My eyes widened with horror when Negan looked right at me and the words to the song instantly faltered in my throat.

How did he know about the play? Why did he have to come and make this whole embarrassing moment ten times worse?

My mind went entirely blank and I choked. The words of the song! They were completely gone, and the two other kids were following me. When they realized my voice was no longer audible, they stopped singing as well and looked around timidly for guidance. A cold sweat broke out on my neck and I stood there in total silence.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Lizzie on the other side of the stage, dressed in her Gretel costume and glaring at me hard enough to spit fire out of her eyes. I didn't sing for three more lines and the rest copied me.

Lizzie leaned in. "Sing." She hissed.

Still nothing.

The pianist had stopped playing and the director was prompting us insistently with our lines.

Still nothing.

I could feel my face glowing hot in humiliation as time stretched with no improvement. "Sing!" Lizzie said again, a bit louder. Her patience in me was rapidly dwindling.

My eyes swerved to look at her, anger and rebellion boiling in that stare. The sight of the spoiled little brat made my brow lower with fury and now I wasn't singing, not just because I didn't know the words, but out of pure, unfiltered defiance.

Lizzie saw the glare I cast at her and her face twisted in hatred. Impulsively, she stomped her foot in outrage, making an echoing BOOM all through the hall and shaking the stage as she roared at me. "SIIIING!" Everyone jumped at the force of it. The entire hall was turned to Lizzie now as she raged on. "SING, you little insect! This is so typical, Grimes! Stop ruining this play like your stupid dad ruins everything else! NOW SING, YOU USELESS SCAB!"

Lizzie crossed a big freaking line with those words, and in those few sentences she had sealed her fate.

"That does it!" I shrieked, grabbing those ridiculous ribbons right out of my hair and throwing them on the ground angrily, adding force to the statement. Blind fury took over my next moves and I grabbed the paint bucket they had forgotten about and chucked it right at Lizzie's Big. Fat. Ugly. Face!

Its impact was precise. The bucket soared through the air, trailing a long tail of green before it made contact with Lizzie's head. Green went everywhere, soaking her hair and painting down across her front in big globs, sticking to her blonde curls and ruining her costume completely. There was an enormous wave of satisfaction that shot through me at the sight of her in that state, before it was gone all too quickly.

The entire building was shocked speechless and I heard a deep intake of breath from the crowd as they witnessed the madness that had unfolded. For a moment, time stopped completely. I glanced over at my dad, Michonne, Carl, Negan, and the Saviors and saw that all their mouths had dropped in unison. I distantly considered how much trouble this would earn me later when we got home and regretted the action for a brief moment.

Then that moment was up.

"YOU! RUINED! MY! DREEEEEEEEEEEEEEESS!" The red on Lizzie's face was as if a devil had been summoned directly into the girl's body. I saw fire rise from her back and like a flash of lighting, she was out on the stage to tear me apart. I'll give her points for that, as I partially expected her to start crying instead of taking immediate action.

I felt anger blind me as I charged the oncoming girl head-on. The two of us collided with one another in the center, screaming, biting, hitting, and pulling hair like two rabid animals: a raging, gingerbread girl and a furious, red and green Gretel.

She was on me a and grabbed a fistful of hair while I fought back by hitting, scratching, and biting with everything I had. Several kids ran up from off of the stage to help break the tousle apart but they, instead, ended up being caught in the rampage themselves. The stage was immediately animated with anarchy as the entirety of the cast was engaged in a massive fistfight right there in front of our family, friends, and enemies.

Mrs. Chett (the music teacher) was near stage right, pulling her hair out in tuffs as her great play was falling to pieces in front of her. "Gaaaaah! My play! My beautiful paly!"

That didn't cause anyone to divert from their initial prey and everyone continued to fight blindly.

"You little brat!" Lizzie shouted slapping me hard enough to make me spin. "Time to teach a stupid cookie minion a lesson you'll never forget!"

I did a one-eighty with my fist curling into a ball to punch her hard enough in the gut that she doubled over in pain. I used her position to force her into a headlock and pulled more on her now-tangled curls. "If there's anyone who needs schooling, it's some condescending idiot girl!"

We continued to fight within the warzone of children. It seemed a bit like the minor characters were fighting the majority of the main cast. Abigail was holding Boxy's gingerbread costume over his head, while Leo pushed Dora's witch hat all the way down passed her chin. Ryan and Darla were busy throwing each other around just as Jim and Griffin took turns choking each other, all while the younger cast either cried where they stood in the middle of the stage or chose no sides and hit anyone and everyone with various stage props.

Lizzie eventually maneuvered me into a chokehold and dragged me across the stage. I responded by wetting my mouth with as much saliva as I could and drooled all over her arms. Lizzie screamed in disgust and released me, trying to wipe the drippy, goo off her, but I took the distraction to leap at her from behind and grabbed fistfuls of her hair. The entire auditorium was erupted with our screams of rage.

"I'll scalp you with my bear hands!"

"Aaaaaah! Let go you demented little freak!"

"DO NOT CALL ME A FREAK!"

"FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!"

I heard my dad yelling just then and several parents were scrambling on stage to try and break up the massive brawl. Lizzie was able to use her larger size to her advantage as she wrestled out of the grip I had on her and grabbed at my throat, her fingers tangling in the charm necklace I hid under my clothes. I felt a link snap as she tugged hard. The chain ripped from my neck where she tossed it to the side. I roared in fury for her disrespectful move then punched her again, this time in the teeth.

Arms grabbed me from behind and I recognized my dad's voice as he ordered me to let her go. I could see Lizzie's own mother grabbing her in the same way, each parent trying to drag their child off the other. There were more parents on stage with their own arms around their children, trying in vain to reestablish order.

Meanwhile, Carl remained off to the side snapping pictures with a Polaroid he had brought with him. For this, Dad roared at him as he continued trying to tear me and Lizzie apart.

"CARL! DOES THIS LOOK LIKE AN EVENT WE WANT TO REMEMBER!?"

At last, we were separated but I still fought to get at the brat, determined to beat her to a pulp. Even her mother was such a bitch!

"You should put a muzzle on that animal of yours!"

"I hate you!" I screamed, trying to fight out of Dad's arms. "I hope you both get…"

"Judith Gertrude Grimes, don't you dare!"

But I ignored him, stabbing my finger at the two, summoning all the magic in my blood and finishing the hex with a scream, "…CHICKENPOX!"

The mother and daughter gasped in shock and the girl could barely contain her terror with the spell that was cast, backing away like I were the devil himself here to send both of them to hell.

Dad hastily tried to amend my prior statement. "She was just kidding."

"Come on, Dad." Carl announced with a role of his eye, still aiming the camera at us. "She was not kidding. She was definitely not kidding."

"Carl, you're not helping." He said through gritted teeth. "And for the last time GET THAT THING OUT OF MY FACE!" He snatched the camera away and threw it on the ground where it broke before the final picture had even finished developing.

With the play ruined, everyone was told to go home. Negan and the visiting Saviors were the only ones to find anything funny about the catastrophe and before leaving he clapped my dad on the back condescendingly. "Thanks for the show, Rick. It started to get a little boring towards the middle but the ending was by far the best part. I tell ya, what a twist. I never even saw it coming." His gaze swept down at me and he winked. "Don't be too hard on her, though. If you ask me, I think Gretel deserved it."

I hated that those words were spoken from him rather than someone like Michonne, which would have cheered me up otherwise.

When we got home I was in a world of trouble while Dad yelled at me and I yelled right back at him. I believe it was one of the few times Dad ever resorted to using the belt. Days later I was banned from practicing in all future school performances and I could say with total honesty that that was perfectly fine with me.

On a far stranger note, a few days following, Lizzie and her mother came down with an unexpected case of chickenpox. From that day forward, all the children and most of the adults in town, treated me with mixed emotions of awe and caution. I believe the term "witch" was thrown around much more often when describing me after that.

Thankfully, my friend John was able to cheer me up days later when we both decided to pull off our greatest feat of foraging the town or anyone had ever seen before.

Present Day
Negan's presence inspired just as much disruption today as it did those years ago. Every now and then I could feel my peers sneak occasional glances at the man and then turn back again to whisper something to their neighbor. I was the only one that kept my gaze forward, determined not to turn no matter how much his eyes on my back burned.

This felt borderline creepy and I couldn't help but search for the clock in desperation. School wouldn't be let out for another two hours. Was he planning to sit in for the remainder of that time? I desperately wished for a reason—any reason—to get out of there. I was considering asking if I would have been okay to go to the bathroom and sneak out that way, when scratching suddenly came from the window, followed by frantic yips. Sherriff was outside again, making a fuss and desperate to get my attention. He must have found a way out of the house again.

A swell of relief filled me since I now had my escape.

"Mrs. Lakely," I said raising my hand to get her attention. She looked towards me and I stood. "My dog is here again. Can I take him back home?"

I think under normal circumstances she would have scolded me, especially since she never missed an opportunity to do so. Plus, it was the third time he had found his way here after all, and she was getting impatient with me. But a brief glance towards the back made her think better of it, somehow. She didn't want to put any of her students in line of Negan's attention so she let it be this one time.

"Alright. Take him home, but be back quickly."

The door out of the class was at the back and I'd have to pass Negan and the two men he brought with him to get out. But rather than do that, I silently turned to the window, opened it and dove through, rolling nimbly on the grass outside. This earned several giggles from most of the children and for this Mrs. Lakely did scold me.

"Judith Grimes, use the door like a normal human!"

"This is faster and I'm already outside!" I whined.

"Don't do that again, we're not burglars."

"That can't be said for everyone today!" I yelled it loud enough that all those inside were able to hear and in the class I saw several students gasp in surprise by my outburst while a few of the boys grinned impulsively for my ballsy statement.

Mrs. Lakely looked absolutely horrified, because really, everyone knew who I was talking about.

"Judith!" She hissed, but I was already scurrying down the street with the puppy in my arms before she could call me back.

I wasn't going to go home, not right away at least. This invasive development from that monster had crossed a big fat line and if my father didn't already know about it he was going to get an earful from me and the other parents when this got out.

I spotted him being forced to load up supplies while those lazy Saviors stood by talking and grinning smugly.

"Father!" I said accusingly, bringing his attention up to look at me in surprise.

"Judith, what are you doing here? You should be in school."

"That is exactly why I'm here. Do you know where Negan is right now?"

His eyes went wide and a look of total horror and appall crossed his face when it dawned on him.

"Exactly! Now as a new parent myself I am here to discuss the boundaries that have been breached with this development! Obviously, a line has been crossed and I want to be sure that you of all people understand that!"

He jumped out of the van and stormed down the street. "Judith, go home and stay there. Get in your room and lock the door. I will handle this!"

He was angry and that was good. I ran off to do as I was told, running up the stairs two at a time and barricading myself inside with my puppy. I took a seat on the mattress, holding the little thing close to me while I tried to guess what was happening at the moment. After a while, I heard muffled voices outside my window and recognized Negan, Carl and Dad arguing. From what I could guess by their tones it sounded heated.

Out of curiosity, I got up to watch it all from my window. I didn't think to open it, I just stood there staring out, wondering what this argument would bring. Dad seemed to be yelling at Negan furiously. I wasn't sure what he said but I gasped suddenly when Negan threw a punch at my dad. His swing was powerful enough to send the man immediately to the ground. I knew my dad could take punches well, so, to send him sprawling with one blow was deeply unsettling.

Negan stood over him, holding his bat on his shoulder while he talked more. His back was to me so I couldn't see his expression very well, but if I had to guess, I believed he was smiling. A few of his men flanked him at that moment, and before I could blink, two were holding my brother back while three others beat on my dad. My heart in my throat I cried out in shock and pressed against the glass in horror. I didn't know how long I watched it happen before my body moved. Throwing my door opened, I tore down the stairs rushing into the kitchen for the broom. As an afterthought I grabbed a knife on top of that.

I was fully prepared to beat them senseless for attacking my dad and brother like that, yet when I opened the door Carl was crouched beside Dad where he lay bloody on the ground. In the meantime, Negan and his men loaded into their trucks and were out before I had the chance to attack with my weapons. They were lucky they tucked tail when they did. I was ready for some blood.

Not just that, I was seething so much I could barely believe it, but I pushed it aside as I helped Carl lift Dad up and lead him into the house where we could look after his injuries. He seemed to catch sight of the broom and knife I held.

"And just what were you planning to do with those, young lady?" He asked accusingly. I remained quiet but he didn't need an answer to figure out what I'd been intending. "I thought I told you to stay in the house?"

"You know I don't listen very well." I told him, looking away.

"No you certainly don't."

We patched him up in silence and resumed our routine, working to replace the supplies that we'd been robbed of and tried not to let the anger blind us as we muscled through.

Thankfully, Sherriff cheered me up a little that night when he curled up with me on my mattress. Again, I was grateful for the presence of the puppies.

While taking care of them for that long duration, I found very few opportunities to sneak away and get back to the island. As much as I loved the puppies I had other responsibilities. The garden needed tending and for anyone who wasn't me, it was hard getting there through the statues safely. Enid offered to go, but I wasn't sure about it. Walkers could jump out of that crowd so easily if you weren't careful.

She chose to go anyways. Enid loved that place just as much as I did and it wasn't right to deny her entrance just because I wasn't around. But it didn't keep me from worrying every time she went out.

Being grounded wasn't fun. I was watched around the clock, my window was rigged to alert Dad and Michonne if I snuck out at night, and I was starting to suffer from severe cabin fever.

Finally I decided to ask Dad how long this would last.

"I told you. Forever."

"Daaaaad! I'm serious, how long am I going to be grounded? It's been a whole month! I have things to do! No one else can do them but me!"

"We've been over this. You don't go outside of the wall on your own and that's final. No more discussion on this."

And without another word he turned and left. I began to realize that the only way I was going to get through to him was if I myself told him the truth. If this wasn't proof that he was bound and determined to protect and keep me with him at all costs then I didn't know what else there was for me to do. I couldn't be afraid anymore. The time for being afraid was over. I had to take this step. My father didn't trust me and to earn that trust I needed to show him that I trusted him with the biggest secret in the world.

I had to start trusting him.

Author's Notes: The Christmas scene was inspired by Diary of a Wimpy Kid as well as Practical Magic.