A bumpy road, a trail of exhaust from the beat-up car. He whines for crackers from the backseat; somebody tosses him back a bag that he rips open and spills on the messy floor. They land on top of a board book that it didn’t take him long to become bored from and throw down. A picture of Mary riding a donkey to Bethlehem is pressed against the floor now: it couldn’t have been a ride much worse than this.

He’s not in a seat belt, so he picks up a grubby cracker and eats it. On the road again.

---

Nothing can compare to the gift he sees before him. All his past ideas of good presents have been shattered. His parents can’t understand: they prod him to give his brother the present he’d worked so hard on, and since he’s still ashamed to, dig it out themselves, handing it over apologetically later. Understanding the circumstances immediately, it’s displayed with real pride at breakfast the next morning. “It’s real nice,” the recipient beams. “Thanks.”

Its creator doesn’t think to question how he had gotten it, but receives the affirmation as a gift from his brother even better than the basketball.

---

The elementary school teachers always gave evaluations to each other about their incoming students and were encouraged to report on their accuracy. The latter rarely occurred. It took the realization that the janitors had taken a week off and were only beginning to repair the damage to report on the events that had transpired before winter break.

I appreciate your warning against having a “holiday party”, a memo read, but were you really concerned that her mother would threaten legal action because of religious discrimination? Or did your classroom have anything resembling what I’ll refer to as “the Tinsel Incident”?

---

Any excuse to get off of school is a good one for him, but his parents are curious as to why. Casually, he tells them about the religious weirdos, the ones that believe some ellimist or whatever came to the planet to be killed because of them. He doesn’t know, and doesn’t care, but there are enough of them taking the day off anyhow to let everybody out.

The unspoken agreement, then, is that they certainly might be good for getting a day off of school, but nothing more. There’s no chance to work with people that aren’t like you.

---

Her parents drag her off to church like normal: well, not physically, but it’s impossible to convince her to leave the pregnant horse. Any appeal to reason is worthless, so they simply tell her it’s time, and she follows because she does not think to question.

She races into the barn when they come back, ignoring the cries to take care of her good church clothes, and finds that the foal is still not there. After changing, she returns to watch, but it’s not born that day. Amused by her vigil, her parents wait to open presents until the evening.

---

The gaming system is as shiny as the fake tree. He stares up and gapes, but forced into maturity, his usual humor is far-gone. “You weren’t working overtime just to save up for this, were you?”

“No.” His father forces a laugh. “No, I work long because it’s something to do.” He wrinkles his eyes. “I’m not depriving you of some bonding experience, am I?”

“No, not at all.” The last thing he needs is for his dad to feel guilty, too.

“Well, we might have one anyway. You’ll have to teach me how to play.” He fingers the controller.

---

He’s pleasantly surprised that anyone knows him well enough to get this for him, or indeed cares enough to get anything for him. The video sets had looked great, of course, but even the calendar was more than he expected.

He tapes it to his wall. Nothing permanent: he might be in another house soon. But the spacecraft allow him to dream of taking off, wherever he goes. The background isn’t much different from the stars out his window. Looking out at them, he makes a New Year’s resolution that the next year will be more interesting than the last.