“I came to see if Ellie wanted to come over.”

Coralee looks at me. I can’t remember the last time a friend asked me over. I look at Mema. Mema shrugs.

“We’ve done our Christmasing already. You might as well.”

I almost want Mema to tell me to stay. I don’t know Coralee any better than her cockatoos. What are we going to talk about? And that other question sneaks in—what if she only thinks I’m interesting because of the wheelchair? Everybody’s staring at me, waiting for an answer or for me to move. Well, I guess it’s either this or spend the rest of the day watching It’s a Wonderful Life on cable.

“Okay, but help me with these cookies first?” I say to Coralee.

It goes much faster with two people. I plop a spoonful of marmalade on one cookie, and Coralee squishes another cookie on top, Oreo-style. There’s a heart cut in the middle so you can see the bright orange of the marmalade. When they’re all done, I shake powdered sugar over the top. They might be the fanciest thing I’ve ever made.

We lay them on a snowflake plate and everybody lines up for a taste.

Grandpa eats exactly one half of a cookie.

Mema eats a whole one but dunks it in her coffee, which ruins the entire effect.

Mom eats hers slowly and says, “Interesting.”

And Coralee takes one bite and yells, “The cockatoos are gonna love these!”

Weird.

I take a bite and chew slowly. The cookies are buttery and chewy, and the marmalade isn’t too sweet. It’s exactly like the recipe said it should be.

They’re perfect.

I look at everybody dusting the sugar off their hands.

So how come nobody likes them?

After Mom takes me to the bathroom one more time, quietly, so Coralee won’t notice, I roll out the front door. It’s maybe four in the afternoon, but the sky’s already getting dark. I’m bundled up in a jacket, mittens, and scarf, but Coralee doesn’t even have a coat. I don’t think she feels the cold.

I make it to the end of the driveway before I remember: The street is gravel.

I look down at it like it’s a snake waiting to bite. There’s no way I can wheel myself on this. My cheeks are hot now, even in the cold.

I start to turn around, but Coralee’s in the way.

“You forget something?”

“Nah, I just think I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Well, hold these.” She drops the tin of linzers on my lap.

“We’ll swap jobs. I’ll push and you hold the cookies.”