This is just something I put together with my spare time. It has no relation to my other story, "A Thick Line". I just felt like writing something holiday themed. This centers around Christmas. If this offends any you 'holiday tree' lovers, I'm sorry. Get it over. There's also some slight Christian jabs that are just meant to be humorous . Don't read too much into it.

Twilight never happened.

My Christmas Wish

"Suze!" over the dominating noise of cheesy Christmas music, along with the incessant chatter of my classmates, I heard CeeCee calling to me from somewhere in the middle of a horde of people.

Suddenly she burst through the red, green, and gold heap of dancing bodies and threw out her arms to welcome me. Quickly engulfed by her holiday scent of Crispy Cranberry, I was temporarily blinded by blonde locks and the big fuzzy white pompom hanging from her Santa hat.

When she finally pulled away and let out a small squeal I finally got to take a fair look at her outfit. CeeCee's exaggerated sense of holiday cheer clashed with her internal journalist's need to be politically correct. She was wearing simple black pinstriped pants with a red and white striped sweater.

This alone would have been fine, but add the gold necklace with the oversized menorah charm, the Christmas tree earrings, the Rudolph pin she had on her left chest, the blinking holiday lights bracelet, the baby Jesus necklace she had layered over the menorah, and of course – the cherry on the sundae – her Santa hat, were forcing me to restrain my hands from reaching out and removing all holiday paraphernalia from her person.

I blinked. Then allowed myself to giggle because this stubborn display of protesting fashion protocol while remaining true to religion – or every religion in CeeCee's case - was so like her.

"You came!" she exclaims as the embrace breaks and I can breath again. "I'm so glad you're here. The party is a total blast!" she leans in toward me and speaks with her hand slightly covering her lips, "Plus you look like you could use some cheer."

I snort out a laugh. Someone must have spiked the punch bowl already because CeeCee was a little too cheery. I know that's not the reason though, CeeCee isn't the type of person to get drunk at a party. Especially when the party started less than an hour ago.

"Yeah, I came," shrugging and trying to make myself seem happier, "I had nothing else to do…and Brad was going anyways so there was a free ride involved."

CeeCee nodded like this made perfect sense. In truth, I'd come to the party because Doc was out, Sleepy was delivering his pizza, and Mom and Andy were home…alone…with the bedroom door shut.

I know they've been married for a while. I know they make each other happy. And I know that my Dad is not feeling the slightest bit of jealousy over the whole thing…but the thought of my mom doing anything like…that with Andy is kind of freaky.

Plus, Jesse's been absent for sometime. He's tracking a group of ghosts from a recent boating accident. Not that I mind, if he's dealing with them that means I don't have to. I just don't feel like sitting in my room and twiddling my thumbs for three hours.

"Well come on!" CeeCee grabs my arm and drags into the throng of partygoers. "Adam's here, and there's a game going where all the guys are throwing mini wreaths onto the chandelier. And…someone dressed up as Santa, they're taking wishes. But I'm sure whoever it is just wants to feel up the girls on his knee."

CeeCee guides me around the Mancuso home. Yes, the junior class is celebrating Christmas Eve at the home of its most endowed slut. But let's not call people names. I don't want a lump of coal in my stocking tomorrow.

Gag me with a spoon.

Debbie's house is quite big though. Huge, in fact. We were in the living room where the two leather couches and matching recliner were pushed against the far wall. On that same wall was a twenty-five inch plasma TV set between two huge bookcases. But do not be fooled into thinking these bookcases were filled with books. DVDs, CDs, and unlabeled VHSs that probably contained some homemade porn were crammed onto the shelves in anyway they could fit.

The carpet – which I'm sure was a solid taupe this morning – was covered in empty cups, squished cookies, and the occasional beer stain. Somewhere a stereo system was belching the corniest Christmas carols I have ever heard in my life. NYSNC, Britney Spears, and The Hanson Brothers were being resurrected for the death of our ears.

However, most of my classmates were too smashed out of their minds to care, they were dancing in their regular suggestive movements anyway. A sea of red Santa hats, white pompoms, and green and gold mini skirts was congregated in the center of the living room. On top of the table, in the center of this holiday bubble, was Debbie.

Now, I know I have made previous derisive comments to Debbie's wardrobe. I have even gone so far as to suggest her future career might involve a street corner – or a dungeon – but I have never been so justified to say those things as I was then, looking at Debbie in all her holiday glory.

You know those red satin lingerie Santa getups that stores like Filenes and Macy's sell around the holiday? The kind the Will Pharell bought his dad in Elf? Well Debbie found a skimpier version, and was now table dancing while flashing her black thong with every kick of her leg.

Not exactly my idea of Christmas rejoice. However, Brad might disagree with me, since he was the standing directly under Debbie. Every time Debbie 'dipped it low' the crowd responded with hoots and catcalls. Debbie tossed her head around, whipping her hair and doing strange things with her tongue.

Disgusting.

Thankfully, CeeCee agreed with me and continued to pull me the kitchen and into the den. Here is where the real dancing was. People dressed with much better taste than Debbie – though still far away from modest – were spread out across a mahogany accented room with a second stereo system blasting out Christmas hip-hop to maximum volume.

I could recognize people now. Adam was edging the bookcase, attempting to dance with one of Kelly's cronies. I think she's in my pre-cal class. With the extra long blonde hair and three inch heels I'm surprised Adam managed to get the guts up to talk to her.

I expect CeeCee to be put off, annoyed, or at least the tinniest bit jealous. But she confidently strides up to Adam and Barbie 2, – Kelly would be Barbie 1 - squishes in between them and starts dancing like she's J-Lo. Adam quickly forgets about his new friend and starts some…alternative form of dancing that contrasts sharply with CeeCee's refined moves.

Barbie 2 scoffs and leaves with her nose stuck up higher than her heels. I look back to Adam and notice he's dressed quite nicely. A dark green silky shirt with black pants and a retarded but somehow fitting elf hat sits squarely on his head. The outfit is Adam all the way.

I stand off to the side, cautiously rubbing my hand up and down my arm. I feel out of place here. Even in my sparkly red camisole and white jean skirt with black Uggs, I'm uncomfortable. Everyone is happy and I'm…not.

Tomorrow is Christmas, my first Christmas in Carmel. The first Christmas I'll spend with my new family. The first Christmas I'll spend away from Gina, Grandma, and New York. And everything that ever meant Christmas to me.

So many things are missing - my friends, my other family, the Rockefeller Christmas tree, Times Square crowds, and snow. When Andy suggested we decorate a palm tree this year I nearly had a heart attack until I found out he was joking. I mean, a freaking palm tree? Christmas trees are evergreens! Conifers! Not stinking palm trees!

I miss my New York Christmas lights, with all the apartment buildings and their mismatched windows of color. I want Grandma's eggnog and Mr. Chow Chow's Chinese Cuisine. Mom and I always ate Chinese on Christmas day. Then we'd order the same thing on New Years.

This year Andy is cooking a turkey. Turkeys are for Thanksgiving people, not Christmas! He's got this huge three-course meal planned and my mom just thinks it's wonderful. I think its stupid to tire yourself from that much cooking on a day when you're supposed to be resting.

After so many months living here in Carmel you'd think I'd be used to it now. But its things like this, - holidays - moments that you always expect to stay the same. I want the white landscape, the icing on the house roofs. I even miss the cold. There are people in Carmel who freak once the temperature drops below forty. I've walked three miles school in New York in weather below freezing.

People in Carmel are wusses.

While CeeCee and Adam have their heads turned I sneak out of the room as quick as possible and back into the kitchen. The usual keg is set up on its throne in the center of the table. Jocks and preps crowd around it like it's the new messiah. Get it? Crowding around the baby like they did in the stable? Funny, right? Shut up.

I squeeze in between two people I've never seen before and get my hands on a plastic red cup. I try to configure exactly how the knobby thing turns on and where to angle the spout but someone quickly comes to my rescue.

A boy a bit older than me gently takes the cup from my hands and fills it three quarters full with beer. He smiles as he hands it back, tossing his slightly long blond curls to side with flick of his head. I smile back, then duck out of there.

Carefully holding my new treasure in my hands, I work my way out of the kitchen without bumping into anyone. A few people say hi, but they're just sucking up to me because the student council is getting ready to make its final donations to student clubs.

I stop under the archway into the den. Without a second thought I chug down three gulps of beer. The liquid tastes sour and disgusting on my tongue, but quickly begins to warm my insides as it goes down. I need to feel warm. Even in a house packed with over fifty sweating bodies I'm still cold.

Kelly has now joined Debbie on top of the table. I can see just pieces of them through the kitchen door. Debbie doesn't seem to like having a new partner. Kelly takes too much attention away from her.

So Debbie begins to dance faster. Her butt plays a more central role than before and she proves to be quite flexible. Kelly will not beat though. She works her chest, plainly showing that while Debbie may be more endowed, Kelly has better control.

Debbie starts to lie down on the table and rolls around while shimmying across it. Kind of like that new Shakira video? The one with the mud. Debbie's just performing the holiday version.

Kelly shows her up by pulling a boy from the crowd onto the table – the people gathered start whooping. I am both shocked and disgusted to see that this boy is Brad, and that he is having the time of his life.

While Kelly and Brad are having sex with their clothes on, Debbie stands up on the table, roughly rearranges her slut suit, and screams in Kelly's ear, " This is my party!" Now, boys and girls, this is part where the faint of heart cover their ears and close their eyes. Debbie clenches her fist, throws a backhand angled right at Kelly's face. Kelly – in complete shock – falls flat backwards, caught by a sea of people who are now yelling 'cat fight!'

But it doesn't end there. Oh no, because Debbie follows Kelly by diving off the table and landing on top of her in the sea of people. Needless to say those people are now on the floor.

It was a total Mean Girls moment where Cady jumps at Regina over the table – or when they're doing trust falls and Gretchen squishes the blonde one. Except Debbie and Kelly where now taking things to a new level – slapping each other across the face in turn.

At least they were being polite about it.

Of course, with all the commotion happening in the other room, people started pushing their way out of the kitchen, wanting to catch a glimpse of girls gone wild. CeeCee and Adam, and the rest of the people in the den, headed towards the living room as well. A mass of bodies coagulated in the doorway, blocking my view.

I sighed and took another sip of my beer. Warmth again trickled its way down my throat. I grab another beer and manage to finish the last one in a second. Starting to get just a little foggy, I slowly made my way out the kitchen into a door off the left wall. I clicked the oak door shut behind me, welcoming the silence.

When I get a look at my surroundings it's plain to see I was in an office. I don't know why Debbie's family needs an office and a den. It's not like Debbie is some national scholar and well…the apple doesn't fall far from the tree so I'm assuming her parents aren't exactly neurosurgeons.

Or maybe they are and they just screwed up on Debbie's surgery. God I'm evil.

I spin what's left of my drink around in its cup and down the last few milliliters.

Tossing the cup into a leather – leather? – trash receptacle on my right I walk around the desk and sit down slowly in the big comfy leather padded armchair. It's one of those swivel ones that roll around and spin and lean back. I enjoy a few short moments of watching the room rotate in front of my eyes.

Then I jerk the chair to a halt and lean as far back as it will go. Of course, this causes my head to smartly connect with the bookcase behind me, sending several books toppling off the shelf. The one that hits me square in the face is thick and leather-bound. I rub my forehead while picking up the book and reading the cover – A Christmas Wish.

Well, there's irony for you.

With a bit too much force I toss the book aside. I'm fed up with Christmas and it hasn't even come yet. Everyone has this high expectation of the holiday – getting the perfect tree, cooking the perfect meal, wrapping the perfect present. But things never turn out the way you plan.

And then comes the disappointments. Disappointment from not getting what you want, from finding the most hoped for Christmas present missing when you search under the tree on Christmas morning. All the hoping and wishing and then…nothing.

There was only one thing I wanted for Christmas this year. And there was no chance in hell I would ever get it. Santa could pay his elves triple overtime and they'd never manage to make my Christmas wish a reality. No stores sell it, no one can make it, and nobody knows I want it.

I spend at least ten solid minutes sitting in the comfy chair, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. I'm tired, even though I slept to at least eleven this morning. I'm bored, even though there's a party going on right outside the door. It's Christmas Eve and I'm sitting alone, in a room, staring at the ceiling.

Finally I peel myself out of the chair, chuck my self-pity out the window, and burst out the door with my head held high. I'm very aware that if it weren't for the alcoholic drinks I chugged before, I wouldn't be doing this right now.

Fighting my way through an even larger crowd I relocate CeeCee and Adam near the same bookcase. CeeCee sends me a questioning look, wondering where I've been. Adam is all too happy to make space for me beside him.

The music changes and I find myself dancing freely to fast-paced rap song. The lyrics are a blur in the back of my head and I can't seem to focus on Adam's face too well. But I don't care. Just dancing and not thinking and doing what everyone else is doing gives me comfort.

The song changes again. Now I'm dancing with the kid who sits behind me in English. He's a good dancer but his hands need to reestablish their boundaries. Don't worry though; I don't let him get too much action. There are no lips involved – my lips belong solely to only one special person.

A new song, a new dancer. Three boys later my feet are ready to commit mutiny. I pull away from bachelor number five – skinny, freckled, but great hair – and head back through the kitchen.

When I pass the keg again I want to gag. My head is pounding right along with the subwoofers. I need fresh air. I need to get outside where my personal space isn't intruded upon every five seconds by a fellow classmate who's had even more to drink than me.

I grab an empty glass from the drying rack – amazingly they're still in tact – and fill it with water from the tap. A few sips and I feel slightly more centered. But I still need fresh air. The carbon monoxide volume in the air is much too high.

A few skillful moves around gyrating bodies and I'm in the living room again, heading toward the back door. Santa Clause has paid us a visit. Someone is sitting in the big armchair pushed against the wall dressed in a Santa suit. The beard, boots, and pants are missing – relax, Santa has normal pants on! – but an oversized coat, hat, and belt make a perfect costume.

Kelly is sitting on Santa's lap. She has a pretty good black eye forming and someone got her small bandage for the cut on her nose. God save our souls someone has injured Kelly Prescott's nose! That nose was her plastic surgeon's pride and joy!

She's whispering in Santa's ear, a drunken expression on her face. Santa asks her what she wants for Christmas and she says something I can't hear – probably wants a new nose. When Santa is done laughing he tilts his head up and the hat flops back a little.

I take a closer look while leaning against the wall for leverage. Santa and I are straight across the room from each other and I can see into his face clearly. Paul stares right back, ignoring Kelly who's rubbing her foot up against his leg.

His eyes are sparkling and I can tell he's perfectly sober, taking advantage of all the girls lining up behind Debbie. His dips his head and asks me, "What do you want for Christmas?" His smirk lights up with coaxing eyes and he actually winks at me.

I respond with a completely blank expression. Sorry Paul, not tonight. I don't have the energy to play games with you. Without giving him any type of satisfaction I make my way past his spectacle and outside the sliding glass door.

Debbie's backyard is huge. I stand still for a minute as my eyes adjust to the darkness. There's a pool to the left with a tarp on top. A rock fountain is perched on the edge. Somewhere I know is the hot tub I hear Brad reminiscing about in the bathroom. Yes, I know, completely disgusting but he talks out loud and sometimes, while passing I catch partial sentences.

Strangely though, there's a small swing set standing off to my right. I didn't know Debbie had younger siblings. Maybe it was just left over from her childhood. Nevertheless, I walk over and sit down on one of the swings. Instantly the rubber seat curls up around my hips, pulling the chains down so my arms are pressed to my sides.

I lean forward and get comfortable, pushing my feet against the ground just a little. The sky is so clear above me and I marvel once again at the Californian stars. I'm such a selfish person. I have a nice home, nice family, good friends. But I'm still not happy.

It takes me a while to realize I'm crying. There's no use in trying to make myself feel better. It's that type of sadness that you welcome. Like once you cry about it, maybe the feeling will go away. I can only hope.

Hope. Hope makes me thing about Christmas. Paul wants to know what I want for Christmas? Well Paul, I don't think even you could help me with this one – you can't get it with a credit card or a thick wallet. Ebay certainly doesn't have it. And no, my Christmas wish will not fit in my stocking.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," Jesse says from behind me. I heard him materialize, and feel his hand on my shoulder. I smile and try to stop the tears from running down my cheeks. You're so good to me Jesse. Here I am upset on Christmas Eve and you just know when to come. You know when I need you.

Jesse leans close and whispers in my ear, "A perfect night for Christmas Eve." I can feel his breath against my cheek. Oh Jesse, why can't you be real? I would give anything – anything – to see you corporeal, solid and living. If I could have you in my life as real person – someone other people can see and talk to and get to know – I would never ask for anything ever again.

WAIT A MINUTE! Jesse's breath? Warm air on my cheek when he speaks?

I didn't have that much to drink.

I whip around in the swing causing the chains to crisscross. Jesse pulls back slightly but I've seen enough of his face to know I'm not hallucinating. Jesse is…real. There's color under his skin, a pigment that wasn't there before. His chest is rising slightly and I can see a view pulsing in his neck. A vein!

"Jesse!" I gasp and stand up, throwing my arms around him. Oh my God! Warmth under my fingers as I caress his cheek! Air moving out of his mouth when I hold his head close to me! And then – the sweetest thing of all – a slight thumping in his chest as he holds me tight.

A heart. Jesse has a beating, thriving, jumping, gorgeous, sexy heart!

"Querida," he speaks softly and I can feel muscles in his neck move as his voice – think Dolby Digital surround sound – speaks to me.

"Jesse," I pull back only a little, just enough to see his face, "How is this possible? When did you…How did you? Is it for real –?"

"Susannah," he hushes me, "The specifics are not important. I only have till midnight. But this is true. I am here Susannah…alive for you. I couldn't get you get anything for Christmas…so this is my gift to you. Merry Christmas," he smiles at me, his eyes glistening and I'm almost lost in those pools of elegant brown. "I'm only sorry I couldn't give you more." He looks down, clearly ashamed.

"Oh, Jesse," I place both of my hands on either side of his face. His skin feels softer, firmer. "This is the best gift you could possibly give me. To have you here…Oh God, Jesse this is perfect." And I kiss him. And he kisses me. And everything is right in the world. Christmas is tomorrow and I'm standing in Debbie Mancuso's backyard kissing the love of my life under a clearly lit sky.

I absently lift my right hand a little higher from its spot behind Jesse's head. Glancing at my digital watch I calculate that Jesse and I have two hours and twenty-three minutes left till midnight. So we stand here, holding each other and dancing to music that seeps out from the house. Someone up there must have a soft spot for me.

This is the best Christmas ever. No matter what happens tomorrow I'll get through it, because I am holding Jesse in my arms alive and well.

I finally got my Christmas wish.

Thanks for reading. Review if you feel like it and check out my other story, "A Thick Line" which I plan on finishing up sometime soon.

Merry Christmas to everyone here at FanFiction and Happy New Year. If you don't do Christmas, I hope you enjoy your holidays.

-LeFay