I reach the end of my rant and realize I’m shouting. There are tears in my eyes.

“You’re not an ungrateful brat,” Hall tells me gently, pulling me into a hug.

I sniffle into his shoulder. “I am what I am. Don’t pity me.”

He strokes my hair, and I burrow into the feeling, the attention. “Why not?”

“I don’t want your pity.” I back away, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “I want your revenge. On everyone. I want you to help me get back at them.” The statement is supposed to sound scary, but the sniffling ruins it.

Hall’s mouth twists. “I’m not made for revenge.”

“I know. You’re so nice to everybody, so upbeat all the time. It’s unhealthy. What’s up with that?” I try to lighten the mood, already embarrassed that he saw me cry over my undeniably privileged childhood. I’d meant to tell him about Bettie Watson and instead I told him everything about Bettie Hughes. You do love to make it all about you, I hear former friends sigh. I shake my head.

“I’m holiday cheer, Bettie. Merry and bright.” Piercing green eyes fasten on mine as he wipes away one of my tears and offers a rueful smile. “Nobody says holiday sass or holiday grouchiness. There’s especially no such thing as holiday revenge.”

“How wrong you are! You need to brush up on your Grinch trivia.”

He withdraws, expression clouding. His eyebrows slant down, lips pressing into a tight, white line. “The Grinch is everything I fight against. I can’t bring myself to finish any version of that film because he is such a personal affront to me.”

“Oh, wow. I really touched a nerve there.”

His face is scarlet. “The Grinch is to me what polka dots are to you.”

“I’ve never met anyone who hates the Grinch.”

“I don’t! I can’t possibly hate anything. But he’s terrible, Bettie. All the Whos wanted was to eat their roast beast and sing. They just wanted to celebrate. That’s all they wanted! I don’t understand why the cable network Freeform includes this insult to the holiday spirit in their Twenty-Five Days of Christmas lineup.”

“You’re absolutely right. He has no business being there.”

Hall either doesn’t notice my small grin, or he’s too relieved that I agree with him to care. He offers me his elbow again, still huffy. “No more talk of such revolting matters. Are you ready to go spend a week with your family? Remember, I’m right here with you. I won’t let them make you feel small.”

I loop my arm through his, touched by Hall’s firm solidarity. I’ve been envisioning our roles for this trip as Leader and Follower: I make the wishes and he grants them. But I can see now that this is a team project. Whatever happens, I’m not on my own. “Thank you.”

“Oh, right.” He snaps his fingers when we emerge from the trees so that six suitcases appear in the middle of the driveway. A horn honks, Athena’s sleek black car swerving angrily around them.