It was a traditional Christmas program, with religious and secular songs, and ending with "Ode to Joy" by Beethoven. She stared at the listing: "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "Silent Night," and then one that almost made her cry—"Do You Hear What I Hear?" That had been her and Lila's favorite song to sing together. "Emma, are you okay?" Luke touched her arm, and she looked up to see concern on his face. "Yes, I'm fine. I . . . ." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . this brings up a lot of memories for me." "Bad ones?" Luke studied her. "We can go if you'd like." "No." She shook her head. "I can't keep running away from memories." Luke was quiet for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "No, you can't." Emma realized with a start that she'd never considered that Luke might have his own problems. He always seemed so relaxed at the diner, joking around with Sol, and even her. And you were too wrapped up in yourself to even laugh half the time, she scolded herself. She. As I moved up the grades, I was always more of a tomboy than a normal boy. A tomboy like my mother, as I considered our personalities so such the same with much the same tastes, though she preferred to dress up less than me. Like the bit about crossing my legs, I could never understand the big deal my parents and teachers had about me removing my shoes in the classroom and go about in my stocking feet, like the girls did. "Why is it okay for them and not for me?" I'd think to myself.Especially the year I spent in a private school my Dad had gone to when he was my age. I'd find myself even more jealous of the lovely clothes the girls wore while I was stuck in blazers, though I avoided a tie. It was there; however, I learned of the different shades of nylons, since my Mom and I only wore nude or tan. The type I wore when Mom first caught me on a winter Saturday, where I wore it all day until mom caught me and ordered me to take it off.When it came time graduate high school, I was never.
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