Angela thoughtfully folded the edge of the green wrapping paper over and taped it in place.

"Is that for me?" Angela glanced up to see her cousin Frankie peering over her shoulder.

"No, it's not," Angela said, standing up and crossing the room. She opened one of her drawers and shoved the present under some clothing.

"Then whose present is it?" Frankie asked, plopping down in a chair.

"Johnny's," Angela smiled, sitting down on her bed.

"Uh huh," Frankie murmured, studying the apple he held in his hands. "Here," he said, tossing the apple to Angela, "does that look ok?"

Angela turned the apple over in her hands, carefully examining it. "A little bruised maybe, but it looks edible." She shrugged and threw the apple back to Frankie.

"So," Frankie said, turning so that he was sitting sideways in the chair, "what are you getting for Christmas?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "A lot of stuff I don't want?" she ventured.

"Well, obviously," Frankie scoffed. "Seriously though," Frankie turned and looked Angela in the eye, "what do you want for Christmas."

Angela looked at Frankie for a moment and then laughed. "What do I want?" Angela shook her head. "What do I want..." She sighed and looked back at Frankie. "It's not something that anyone could ever give me..." Angela paused to think. "I want...You know what I what? I want Christmas with everyone. Not just the family...but like everyone. I want a real Christmas." Angela smiled a little. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Like a wonderful Christmas-the kind you read about in story books, where everything is beautiful and perfect. And, and, everyone is happy and together," Angela's eyes lit up as she got excited, "and the air smells like cinnamon and pine and the tree is just right and the presents are lovely and you sing Christmas carols and everyone is happy-" Angela stopped herself, feeling foolish. "It's silly, I know. It's impossible too. But I'd like to think that maybe I could have it." Angela smiled to herself.

Frankie smiled at Angela. "It's not silly. I think that deep down that's what everybody wants."

"Yeah," Angela said, choking on the word. Frankie's eyes grew wide. "Hey, Angie, what's wrong?" he asked, shocked.

"Don't call me that," she sniffed.

"I'm sorry, Ange," Frankie said sadly, sitting down next to her. "What's wrong?" he whispered. Angela just shook her head violently. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Frankie said miserably, his usually smiling mouth turning to a frown.

"It's not...your...fault," Angela managed to gasp. She was crying pretty hard, Frankie noted. It was the kind of crying that gave you the hiccups and made your chest hurt when you tried to breathe.

"Angela, what's wrong?" Frankie asked quietly, rubbing her back. Angela did her best to get her composure back. She sniffed repeatedly and hiccuped. "Here," Frankie said, handing Angela his handkerchief. Angela took it and blew her nose. She swallowed and then looked down at the handkerchief. Her face crumpled and she let out a wail and began bawling again.

"Angela!" Frankie cried, growing worried. She just turned and buried her face in his shoulder. "B-b-but," Frankie sputtered, staring at the handkerchief that Angela had chucked on the floor. "I don't understand; it's just a red handkerchief!"

Angela looked up at him defensively. "It's a red bandanna, you moron!"

Angela returned from the bathroom to find Frankie laying on her bed, staring despondently at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," he wailed.

"It's not your fault," Angela said quietly.

"I think you have some water damage," Frankie said, scrutinizing the ceiling. Angela laughed and sat down on the bed. Frankie sat up and put his chin in his hand. "So I'm sitting here, trying to figure out what made you so upset...and I haven't the faintest idea. So I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me; only if you want to that is."

"I haven't," Angela frowned, trying to collect her thoughts, "I haven't...felt very...good... in a long time. I don't mean I've been sick. I mean I haven't felt good. I've been unhappy. Well, more than normal at least. And when you asked me about what I wanted for Christmas..." Angela shook her head. "It just reminded me I guess." Angela laughed slightly. "You know, if you don't think to much about how you feel, you forget you're so depressed."

"What about the handkerchief?" Frankie asked. He immediately regretted saying it for fear that she might start crying all over again.

"It reminded me of why I'm not happy."

"Which is?"

"Jack."

"Ohhhh. So it's a guy," Frankie grinned.

"No, don't do that. Please don't. Don't make fun of it like that. Jack was my best friend. And, yes, he was more than that. But don't trivialize it. It's important to me."

"I'm sorry. I thought I was your best friend," Frankie teased.