I wake up to my mother's voice. I squint, rub my eyes, and finally look around the room. It's lit by the TV. How long have I slept? An hour? Two?

Where is Ray?

"Let's have dinner!" Mom says, having noticed that I'd woken up. She puts the plates on the table.

"Coming," I stretch. Ray must have gone to the bathroom or something.

I throw the blanket aside and look at my feet. They seem to be all right. I go up to my room to change, but Ray is not there. I return downstairs and check the bathroom - it's empty.

"Mom, have you seen Ray?"

"No, but I thi... God, Sam! What's with your face?" Mom jumps up worriedly and takes my face in her hands. "What's happened?"

And then I remember that I have a bruise and a scratch. I was too tired to come up with a lie beforehand.

"Have you fought with Ray?!" mom cries out.

"No! Mom, how could you even think that?!" I retort.

"Oh, Lord, I don't know what to think!"

"We..." I choose my words carefully. "...might have had a disagreement with some people..."

But my choice of words did little to dispel mom's worries.

"What? What does it mean?! Did someone beat you up?" She frowns.

"Mom, mom! Please calm down. It's okay. Yes, I have a bruise on my face, but that's all. It happens."

"Where does it happen? In criminal areas? This is some kind of nightmare! In our city! In the middle of broad daylight!"

My mom can no longer be stopped. And my cheekbone begins to ache.

Where did Rey go? I hope he didn't get into trouble with those idiots!

I find my phone on the couch and call Ray, moving away from my mother, who continues to sizzle with righteous anger. But Ray doesn't answer. I'm getting worried. Ray, he is like that. If some idea got into his head... And he always tried to protect me, even when there was no need for it. But it's a childish habit that stuck within him. Although, it's nice to know that he always has my back covered.

I'm getting dressed.

"Sam, where are you going?" Mom asks concernedly.

"I'll go to Ray's," and anticipating her further questions, I add, "Mom, no need to think that thugs are waiting for me behind every corner, ok? I'm fine. Really!"

I do not want to listen to her objections and go out the door, hastily buttoning up my jacket.

Ray's house is close by, so a couple of minutes later, I'm knocking on the door, and Ray's mother, Mrs. Johnston, opens.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Johnston!" I exclaim joyfully, having turned the unscathed side of my face to her. "Is Ray home?"

"Ray?" She asks surprised. Her initial smile is replaced by bewilderment. "Is he in town?!"

Um... I have a teeny-tiny suspicion that I just set someone up...

And I also realize what I should have asked Santa for a present - a bag of good excuses because, obviously, I lack them.

"Er... well, yes... we came together. And he headed home, but he probably went to the store, since he isn't here yet," I smile awkwardly and hope to leave as soon as possible, but Ray's mother does not back down.

"Wait, when did you arrive?"

Ray's dad appears behind Mrs. Johnston's back. Damn... this is bad. Very bad...

"Oh, Samuel! You've grown! Merry Christmas!" Ray's dad shakes my hand. "Why are you standing on the doorstep? Samantha, why are you keeping the guy on the doorstep?"

"He says Ray is here." Not a trace of her friendliness remained.

Ray didn't tell me everything, but I know he had a falling out with his father and never made up. Mr. Johnston also frowns when he hears her words and looks around the yard.

"Where?" He asks. So, I need to make my brains work. Fast!

"Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, I'm sorry! Ray and I wanted to surprise you, or rather he wanted, and I had to help. But, in my opinion, I just ruined everything. So, when he comes, please pretend that you don't know anything and be surprised... at his surprise," I chuckle nervously. My pathetic attempts seem to have some effect. Ray's parents stop frowning at least. "In general, Merry Christmas again, and sorry!" I say it, stepping backward and risking falling down the stairs.

Oh my god, I'm such a fool.

And where the hell is Ray?! It would be a great surprise if he got into another fight, and then his parents would have to go to the hospital. Fucking great!

I call Ray again. This time he picks up.

"Ray! Where are you?" I cry out.

"I... had to get out... um... I had to... do things..."

"What things?" I try to take control of my voice. "You didn't get into another trouble, did you?"

"No! No... nothing like that... I went home."

I don't know what to say. This is a lie. Why would Ray lie to me? Should I play along? But I don't have time to decide, as Ray says, "Anyway, I am coming back now. So wait for me, ok?"

"Yeah... and how did it go?" I try not to sound sarcastic.

"What?"

"With your family," I press on.

"It... it was good," he answers.

"Have you made up with your dad?"

"Yes, everything is fine."

Fucking liar.

Maybe I shouldn't warn him about his parents. Will serve him right for his lies.

As I return home, mom, James, and Joyce with Bailey in her arms are talking about something in the living room. I sneak up the stairs to the second floor to my room.

Taking off my sweater, I sit down on the bed and start scrolling the feed on my phone. I think about what to do now.

Why did Ray lie to me? Where was he? And how do I say that his family knows he's here?

I don't even see that I'm scrolling. I just move my finger mechanically, immersed in my thoughts.

Ray finally enters the room. I don't know with what expression on my face to look at him, so I stare blankly and wait.

"What's the matter?" He asks. I blink several times.

"No... nothing. I... just... zoned out."

"Why?" Ray is still in his jacket, and it seems he does not even think about undressing.

"Just... Where have you been?"

"I told you, at home."

I notice Ray squinting his eyes a little, telling lies. I'll have to remember it.

"Hmm," I drawl.

Why do I care so much where he was? He lied, ok. I mean, it doesn't really matter. He can go wherever he wants!

Well shit... No... I'd take it okay if he just didn't tell me. But he's lying! And I hate it! Christmas mood just vanished.

"How's your bruise? Does it hurt?" He asks, looking straight at me.

"Not really," I say. Ray is still standing, but I don't want to ask him any more questions. He shifts from foot to foot on the spot and finally sits on the edge of the bed.

"And how are your feet?" His tone is sweetly caring, but I'm still angry with him.

"Okay," I answer indifferently and bury myself in the phone. I still don't get into what I scroll. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ray unbuttoning his jacket and fumbling in an inside pocket.

"Here." With these words, he puts something on my stomach. I lift my gaze from the phone and look down.

Is this a gift? Well, something wrapped in gift paper with a crooked bow on the side is a gift, right?