'IT'S CHRISTMAS!'
That's how Jackson's Christmas day started—with Chrissy bursting into his room and trying to rupture his ear-drums. He couldn't help but smile; at least someone was excited for the day.
In truth, he'd been awake for some time before his door rattled open. Since the Titans lost their championship game, his sleep had been restless. Even with a late night carolling followed by checking out which houses had the best Christmas lights, he'd still struggled to sleep.
Occasionally—though thankfully not that morning—he'd woken with a start, sticky with sweat despite the cold temperatures. But the memories of the nightmares vanished like mist before he could recall details. It was like the very effort to remember acted as a fan, blowing the mist away even faster.
He and Tommy had been working out each day—except for Christmas Eve, of course—starting by running three miles; followed by situps, pushups, and squats, one hundred of each; then they'd throw a football around; before finishing with another set of situps, pushups, and squats.
Kenny had joined them twice, which turned their runs into laps around a football field, enough to make Jackson dizzy just thinking about them.
Jackson finally pulled himself out of bed a few minutes after Chrissy had shouted at him; if he waited any longer she'd be back again and wouldn't have left until she dragged him out.
He ventured down to the kitchen. Mom and Dad were both at the stove, one managing the eggs—scrambled—the other, bacon. Plates of each were already on the dining table, along with a few slices of toast. Tommy and Chrissy sat at the table.
'Merry Chr—'
The woolly green sweater hit Jackson in the face the same moment the toaster dinged, four more fresh, golden-brown slices popping up.
'Merry Christmas~' the family sang.
Jackson tugged the sweater from his head and looked down at it, mumbling "Merry Christmas" in answer to theirs. Emblazoned on the front of the sweater was a hideous depiction of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. His eyes were huge and bugging out of his head, the antlers tiny, and his famous nose was painfully bright; each member of the family was already wearing an equally ugly sweater.
Mom had one depicting Mrs Claus, and Dad had Santa himself, though the only difference Jackson could see between the two images was that one had a beard and the other didn't; Chrissy's one had a pattern of grinning elves and frolicking reindeer; and Tommy's matched Jackson's.
As Jackson walked to the table, he pulled his sweater on over his white t-shirt. The thing clashed horribly with his flannel pyjama pants, but that was the point, really. A plate was waiting for him, and he started filling it after he sat next to Tommy.
'Merry Christmas, little bro,' Tommy said. 'I didn't get you too bad, did I?'
Jackson smirked, buttering his slice of toast. 'Nope. It was a good reminder of why you never made it as a Quarterback.'
'Wow. That's how we're starting Christmas, is it?' But Tommy was too busy laughing to scowl at his little brother. 'You'd better have got me a good present.'
'You don't already know your Secret Santas, do you?' Mom asked, delivering more food to the table. 'There wouldn't be much point in it being a SECRET if you have.' Her stern look darted between the boys and then shot towards Chrissy. 'And are you chewing your food, sweetie?'
Chrissy nodded, even whilst stuffing another mouthful of eggs into her mouth.
'I hope you remember we're not opening presents until EVERYONE'S finished their breakfast,' Dad said, filling everyone's glass with orange juice. Chrissy's shoulders sagged, and she finished chewing slowly.
They were all seated then, and Mom sighed before wishing everyone a merry Christmas again; everyone echoed her. It was a pleasant, calm moment, and Jackson didn't know of a better way to start Christmas. They savoured the meal, and though it prolonged the wait for presents, no-one—not even Chrissy—complained. It was just nice to sit back and relax, surrounded by the people they loved, and Jackson knew they needed it. The morning was the time they had together, before the chaos of the day.
Before they had to get changed and run off to Christmas lunch with friends and extended family. All the cousins, uncles, aunts, most of whom you wouldn't see again until Christmas next year, and old people who always pinch your cheek and reminisce about when you were only knee-high and say how much you've grown, and ask if you remembered them when you weren't even sure if they were supposed to be there because you'd never seen them in your life.
Then there was Christmas dinner were you had to go off and do it all over again for the other side of the family, and there was always some sort of unspoken friction between the two sides, like they were trying to outdo each other with their parties, and wanted all the gossip from the previous party, but simultaneously didn't want to speak about them.
By the time you got home, all you could do was put on a good, classic Christmas movie like Die Hard before you fell onto the couch, so exhausted you'd sleep there.
A quiet breakfast with just the five of them was paradise in comparison.
But eventually, after they'd all eaten their fill and given some time for the food to settle, they were ready for presents. Chrissy shot out of her chair as if there were springs in her cushion and sped into the room. By the time everyone had found a spot on the couch, she was already sorting through the mound of presents, and setting them in front of who they belonged to.
Once all the presents had been handed out to the right person, Mom took a picture of everyone with their little piles, and then they were free to go wild. Of course, the parents sat back, watching and smiling, snapping some more pics here and there as the kids opened their presents; the sounds of tearing paper filled the room.
As expected, there was the annual set of new underwear and socks, and a couple of t-shirts thrown into the mix before you got to the good stuff. For Jackson, that was a copy of the newest Madden, and two gifts from his Secret Santa, which were a set of ankle and wrist weights, and a jump rope.
'Do you like them?' Tommy said, watching Jackson.
The weights were sleek and thin. You wouldn't guess they were weights just by looking at them, more like bulky wristbands or anklets. But they were much heavier than they looked; each one said they were five pounds (roughly 2.25 kilograms). 'Yeah, they feel good. Thanks.'
'And that jump-rope should help a ton with your footwork. You'll be unstoppable next year.'
Jackson grinned. 'And when I bring the State championship home, you'll be a big part of that.'
Tommy slung an arm around Jackson's shoulders, hugging him close. 'But it's on YOU to put in the hard work. Everyone's supporting you, little bro. I know you can do it.'
'Thanks, Tommy.' Jackson hugged him fully. When he pulled back, he chuckled. 'Sorry I didn't get you anything.'
'Shoot, really? Who'd you get?'
Jackson nodded towards Chrissy. 'Something tells me we'll get really good at Jenga these holidays.'
Chrissy had received a couple of t-shirts of her own, the aforementioned game of Jenga—earthquake edition—and a jigsaw puzzle of Disney princesses. When there was a spare moment, and the present-opening seemed over, Mom and Dad left the room, coming back with a card for Chrissy.
When she opened it, Jackson thought she'd shatter the windows she squealed that loud. Tickets for an Ariana Grande concert. Dad had some tickets for himself and the boys—thankfully for a Cardinals game instead of the concert—which he gifted to Tommy.
Along with that, Tommy had received a bottle of cologne and a Bring Me the Horizon shirt, which was gifted by Chrissy.
The kids had given their parents a voucher for a spa day each, which was the extent of their presents aside from a new watch and a glittering necklace they gave each other.
Afterwards, they had time for one game of Jenga—which ended quickly when Mom toppled the trembling tower—before they had to get ready for their first family gathering. On the way to lunch at Aunt Peggy's, Jackson sent out a round of Merry Christmas texts to his friends; most everyone had received games and clothes, or mostly money. But the Cardinals tickets made Jackson stand out, Marcus, Eddie, and Sachin all giving him shit over getting the best present.
The outrage made him laugh, though as he sat back in the car, he couldn't help but think he should've bought something for Jasmine. What that should've been, however, he didn't know.
Lunch and Dinner had dragged, and each had come with way too much awkward small-talk. Jackson should've known better. For most, it was most people's first time seeing him after his … biking incident … and he was bombarded with sympathy and questions regarding his leg. He counted himself lucky he didn't still have a cast or anything; he would've been stuck there for hours as they all signed it until there wasn't any space left. At least the food had been good.
But they were finally home; the bright flashing lights, and the contrasting dull display of Jesus and his Wise Men had never been a more welcoming sight.
The family all let out a sigh, like dumping the weight of a mountain off their shoulders, as they stepped out of the car.
Soon they were in the living room, looking through the selection of Christmas movies. But Dad didn't stay in his chair for long. 'Who wants ice cream?' he asked as he stood.
'ME ME MEEE!' shouted Chrissy, though everyone agreed; Christmas wasn't over until you had a nice bowl of ice cream and some pudding to go with it.
Dad started for the kitchen, though stopped in the doorway and looked back at Jackson. 'Mind giving me a hand, Jack?'
'Sure thing, Dad,' Jackson answered, getting up and following him out. Chrissy called after them, reminding them she didn't want any vanilla.
'Get the toppings for me?' Dad asked, getting out the large tub of neopolitan ice cream.
Jackson found the sprinkles and chocolate fudge sauce without complaint. Then he got the spoons and scoops whilst Dad got the bowls.
'I've told your mom already, but I won't be spending New Year's with the family,' Dad said as they both scooped out ice cream into separate bowls.
'You won't?' Jackson almost flung a scoop of ice cream onto the counter. 'Why not?'
'I'm going to an event, a big football meetup. A lot of the best and brightest high school recruits will be there. So, the team needed someone to scout it out and get a look at the stars. It's a good chance to meet and interview them, but our usual reps are on vacation. Not that you can blame them, of course, it is the holidays. So I volunteered.'
'Oh. Okay.' Jackson wondered exactly what kind of event it'd be. It sounded like a strange time for it. It was the end of the season, but on New Year's? 'Where is it?'
'Vegas. Which … well, it's close at least, which helps seeing as I'm driving there. … and … I'd like to take you with me.'
Jackson paused, staring at his dad. 'Seriously? Why me?'
'Who better to bring along than a contemporary of the stars I'm supposed to be scouting? The invitation said it was alright to bring a plus-one, and I'm choosing you. Besides, it's a party for all the best talents, and you belong in that space, Jackson. I know how hard you've been working. The only reason you and your Titans didn't win the state championship is because you were injured this year. Next year, everyone will know just how good you are. Think of this party as a way to announce yourself to the world and let everyone know that you're the next big thing.'
Jackson could only stare for a while. 'But…'
'That ice cream's gonna melt. Come on. Let's just enjoy the movies, and you can worry about that another day.'
Jackson watched his dad return to the living room, carrying three of the bowls with him. A celebration of the best stars in high school? Jackson didn't belong there when he was yet to play a snap at the high school level … but if he went to that place and staked his claim to be number one in front of all those schools and all those stars, wouldn't that be the greatest motivator? Could he handle the burden of upholding such a promise?