Two very different young boys find out that wishes can come true one magical Christmas.

Ladybug, Ladybug
By Breanna Ramsey

Looking back on that Christmas, twenty years ago, still brings a smile to my face. There have been many Christmases since, and all have been wonderful, joyful celebrations, but the magic of that particular Christmas, when I was eleven years old, will never fade.

I’m getting a bit ahead of my story, though, because it all really began several months earlier, at the beginning of the school year. It was a new school for me; my family had moved over the summer, and I was very nervous about the first day of school. I suppose it’s only natural to feel that way, but it was especially tough for me.

I was a very shy kid, and I was also very small. Of course that led to me getting picked on a lot, and I knew that being the new kid in school was going to make things that much harder.

The day was pretty much uneventful. I caught the bus without any problems, and my classes were all pretty much as expected. No one really talked to me, and I didn’t try to talk to anyone myself. I was a smart kid, and several of my classes were honors courses. Most of the kids in these classes were a grade or two ahead of me, so they didn’t exactly knock themselves out trying to get to know me.

The first hint of the trouble to come came at lunch. I couldn’t find a table to myself, so I just sat in an empty seat at the end of a table and tried to ignore everything around me. I finished my lunch pretty quick; I was not a real big eater, and then I pulled out my dog-eared copy of Tolkien’s ‘Return of the King’ and started reading.

I had this way of getting totally lost in a book when I read, so I didn’t notice the three boys as they approached. I was totally oblivious to the world around me until a sarcastic voice intruded into my solace.

“Oh look, he’s reading about fairies!”

I closed my book and looked up with a sigh. It was starting already, and I knew the smart thing to do was try and ignore them. Unfortunately, I had never been able to do the smart thing in situations like that.

“There are no fairies in this, only elves,” I said. “If you took the time to learn to read you might be able to distinguish between the two.”

The biggest of the three, the one who had spoken, snatched at the book but he only got half. The tattered spine was just to worn to withstand much, and it tore right in half.

I knew what the game would be now. I would try to snatch the book, or half book, back, and they would play keep away. I wasn’t interested, though, so I just turned away and put what was left of the book into my backpack. In its place I took out my math book and started reading like it was a novel.

“Give it back, Greg,” a new voice said. It was a very deep voice and I thought it must be a teacher, so I turned towards the speaker.

He wasn’t a teacher, but he was by far the biggest sixth grader I had ever seen. He literally towered over Greg and his friends, and I was pretty sure he was taller than some of the teachers. He was very stocky too; not fat, just broad. His brown hair was almost shoulder length and looked like it rarely got any attention from a comb.

It was plain to see that Greg and his friends were intimidated by him, but they were reluctant to look weak. It appeared as though things might get ugly, but then the principal, Mrs. Alexander, appeared. She walked right up to the newcomer and looked up into his eyes.

“Are you causing trouble, Moose?”

“We weren’t doing anything, Mrs. Alexander,” Greg said. “We’re just trying to get to know the new kid.”

This was a big decision point for me. I could go along with Greg, and probably he and his buddies would leave me alone for the rest of the day. They might even be grateful enough that I didn’t get them in trouble to leave me alone from then on. It would be nice to not have to worry about being picked on.

I couldn’t do it, though, it just wasn’t right.

“That’s not true, Mrs. Alexander,” I said. “Greg was giving me a hard time about the book I was reading and he tore it in half. He just asked them to give it back.”

“This is my book!” Greg protested. Mrs. Alexander didn’t say anything, just held out her hand for the book. When Greg handed it over, she looked inside the front cover, a smirk on her face.

“I see, so your name is Andrew Jameson,” she said. She handed the front half of the book back to me and continued, “You three come with me to the office.”

The glare Greg gave me as he left told me my troubles had only begun, but at least I had the satisfaction of knowing I had done the right thing. I hoped that would provide some comfort when they were pounding me in the future. After they were gone I looked up at the big kid and gave him a grin and a shrug.

“Thanks, I’m Mark but everybody calls me Moose,” he told me.

“I’m Andy,” I said. “Thanks for stepping in to help.”

Moose shrugged, “I don’t like bullies.”

The bell rang signaling the end of our lunch period, and I went back to class. The rest of the day was uneventful, and I didn’t see Greg and his cronies again. It turned out they got detention for the rest of the week, and their parents all got a letter from the principal.

I was surprised that afternoon when Moose got off at my bus stop. It turned out he lived just a few houses down from me. He told me his mom took him to school in the mornings, but she worked late so he had to take the bus home in the afternoon.

After that day, Moose and I were best friends. Moose was a lot like me; we were both pretty quiet and shy. For me it was because I was so small, and for him it was just the opposite. The other kids were afraid of him I guess, which was a shame because he was really quite smart and very funny when he loosened up. Having the biggest boy in school as my best friend did wonders for me, and I even managed to come out of my shell a bit. Having Moose as a friend gave me confidence.

There was another side to Moose, however, a sad side. We were both at that age when it was becoming apparent that boys and girls were different, and we would watch the girls at recess as they talked and giggled. None of them would have anything to do with us, of course. They all thought I was a sissy and Moose was just too big and intimidating.

“I hate being so big,” Moose said one day. “I wish I could be small, like you. Everything about me is all wrong!”

I didn’t know what to say; I mean to me, Moose had it all. He was big and strong and no one gave him any crap. I still got ribbed occasionally about my size, always when Moose wasn’t around of course. Being one of the brightest kids in school didn’t help either.

Things were changing, though. By Thanksgiving I had grown a whole two inches. I was still not anything close to being a bruiser like Moose, but it gave me hope that I wouldn’t always be so small. My parents were fussing about having to buy me all new clothes, but I could tell they were happy for me too.

The last day of school before Christmas, everything came crashing down horribly. I thought Greg and his friends had forgotten about the first day of school, but I was wrong. Moose and I were walking home from the bus stop when someone called out my name from behind us. I was turning to see who it was when something crashed into the side of my head.

My vision blurred as it felt as though my head was exploding. As I collapsed to my knees, I could feel blood flowing down the right side of my face, and on the ground I saw something. It looked like a big rock, splattered with red paint. I heard laughter and then I heard Moose let out a cry of pure outrage.

I tried to get up, but my legs just wouldn’t work. As I sank down to the sidewalk, I saw Moose charging at Greg and his friends. I saw Moose swing, his big fist crashing into Greg’s chest. Then all I saw was blackness.

When I woke up the next day, my head hurt terribly. It didn’t take me long to realize I was in the hospital, but I couldn’t remember what had happened. I heard someone stir to my right and I tried to turn my head, but that brought on a horrible stab of pain, so much so that I let out a whimper.

“Don’t try to move, sweetheart,” I heard Mom’s voice say. “Thank God you’re awake, we’ve been so worried.”

"Just lie still, son," my dad said. "You've had a nasty thump on the head."

I wanted to ask what happened, but just then the doctor came in and started checking me over. He asked me a lot of questions, most of which I could answer except for the ones about what happened to me. He said it wasn’t uncommon to have some memory loss after an injury like mine, especially about exactly what happened to cause the injury. He then told me I had suffered a skull fracture and a very serious concussion.

After the doctor left, Mom told me what happened. It stirred my memory a bit but it was all still very fuzzy. I did remember Moose charging at Greg and his friends.

“Is Moose all right?” I asked. Mom didn’t answer right away, and I knew something was wrong.

“Andy, the boy that threw the rock . . . Greg something . . . Moose hurt him very badly,” she finally said. “He . . . he died.”

“He didn’t mean to, Mom!” I started crying. “He was just looking out for me!”

My dad gently gripped my forearm and said, “We know that Andy. Moose only hit the boy once, but he’s just so big. When he hit the boy it stopped his heart.”

“Where is he? Can I see him?”

“He’s at home, sweetie,” Mom said. “He’s been suspended from school. I’m afraid the boy’s parents are pushing for the police to press charges.”

“That’s not fair! Greg started it!”

“Yes and he could have killed you,” Dad said. I could see he was trying very hard not to cry. “If Moose hadn’t been there . . . well it was very close, son. After the other two boys ran off, Moose ran to the nearest house and got them to call 911. When the police and the paramedics got there, they said he was holding his shirt to your head to slow down the blood. You might have bled to death if he hadn’t been there.”

“After what happened most kids . . . most people would have run off,” Mom said. “Moose wouldn’t leave you.”

Mom and Dad weren’t allowed to stay with me for long, and it was just as well because I could barely stay awake. I slept a lot over the next couple of days and every time I woke up I asked to see Moose, but they told me it was against hospital rules. When they finally let me go home on Christmas Eve, I insisted that my parents take me by Moose’s house first.

His mom looked worse than me, but she smiled when she saw me and gave me a hug. She called Moose and when he came out and saw me he immediately walked over and gave me a hug too . . . very carefully. We went back to his room while our parents sat in the living room and talked.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Moose said. “I wanted to come see you but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I know,” I said, “stupid hospital rules.”

We were quiet for a long time. I knew Moose was hurting, but I just didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to,” Moose finally said, his voice quivering.

“I know, Moose,” I said. “I wasn’t your fault.”

“I hate my body!” Moose shouted. Tears began to stream down his face. “I don’t just hate it because I’m so big, I hate it because I’m all wrong! I . . . I don’t want to be a boy; I wish I was a girl!”

I was at a loss for words, but maybe that was for the best. I didn’t know anything about words like transgendered or transsexual then. I’d never heard of Gender Identity Disorder or anything like a boy wanting to be a girl. My ignorance of such things didn’t matter, though. My best friend in the whole world was in pain, so I stood up and wrapped my arms around him and held him while he cried.

I finally got Moose calmed down and we talked for a little longer. I didn’t try to judge what he said; I just accepted it, that all his life he had felt more like a girl on the inside. I tried to imagine what he must have felt as he started growing so big and so strong, faster than most boys. To see his body drift farther and farther from what he wanted it to be must have been truly horrible.

I had to go home shortly after that. I was feeling really tired and my head still hurt like crazy. When we got home, I went immediately to bed. As I drifted off to sleep I wished there was a way I could help my friend, but I had no idea how.

Mom woke me up that evening to let me know Grandma Jameson had arrived for Christmas. Even with all that happened, I was excited because we didn’t get to see her that often. She was in her eighties but she was as fit as a woman thirty years younger, and she was constantly traveling the world. She was a nurse and though she had retired years ago she still worked as a volunteer for Doctors Without Borders. I had always admired the selfless way she gave of herself, and I hoped one day I could be like her and help people.

After dinner that evening, Grandma and I were sitting in the living room while Mom and Dad cleaned up. Grandma was talking about some of the things she had seen on her latest trip, but I really wasn’t paying attention.

“You’re worried about your friend,” she said, startling me from my thoughts. She noted my surprise and smiled, “Of course I know all about him dear. He sounds like a very good friend.”

“I just wish I could do something,” I said. “Moose didn’t mean to hurt Greg; it was an accident. He’d never hurt anyone on purpose.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling there’s more to your concern than the boy who was killed,” Grandma said.

“I am sorry about Greg, even if he did almost kill me,” I said. “If only . . .”

“If only what, dear?”

I couldn’t tell her what Moose had said; it wasn’t for me to tell anyone something like that.

“Moose is so sad,” I said. “I just wish I could make him happy.”

Grandma smiled, and reached up and unfastened the gold chain that was around her neck. She held it out, and I could see that there was a beautiful pendant attached. It was a gold ladybug, with red stones for spots.

“Do you know that some people believe that ladybugs can make wishes come true?” she asked. I shook my head.

“I got this in Indonesia many years ago,” she continued. “The lady who gave it to me said it would grant me good luck. She also said it had the power to make wishes come true, if the person making the wish did so out of compassion and love.”

She pressed the charm into my hand and closed my fingers around it. To say I was skeptical would be an understatement, and Grandma smiled at my disbelieving look.

“It can’t hurt to try, can it? When you go to bed tonight, place it on your window sill, with the window open a crack. Then make your wish and go to bed. Don’t be too specific; let it come from your heart and don’t try to bind the wish with a lot of conditions. In the morning, if the ladybug has flown home, you’ll know your wish has been granted.”

The way she said it made me want to believe it could be true. The twinkle in her eye was not teasing or condescending, but rather one of excited anticipation. I slipped the chain over my head and told her I would do as she said.

That night, I opened my window a crack and set the ladybug on the sill. I made my wish, and like Grandma had said I kept it simple. I just wished that Moose would wake up on Christmas morning and be happy. Then I went to bed and drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

I awoke Christmas morning and immediately checked the window. The ladybug was gone! I tried not to get too excited; I figured logically that Grandma had snuck into my room in the night and taken it back. Still there was a lingering hope against all common sense that maybe there was such a thing as real magic.

Christmas was wonderful, and I won’t bore you with details of all the presents I got. My head still hurt and that kind of detracted from the fun, but just being there with Mom and Dad and Grandma was really great.

After the presents had been opened and we had finished breakfast, I went back to my room to lie down for a bit. Before I could do that, though, I heard the doorbell ring.

“Andy, you have a visitor,” I heard Mom call.

I walked back out into the living room and froze in my tracks. There was a girl standing there, a girl I had never seen before and yet I knew her right away. She was my height, with beautiful auburn hair and a face like an angel. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a green sweater with a Christmas tree on the front. Her legs were covered in black tights and she wore ankle high boots on her feet.

“Merry Christmas, Andy,” she said, a shy grin on her pretty face.

I looked around to make sure my parents were out of earshot and in a voice barely above a whisper I said, “Moose?”

She nodded and stepped closer to me. Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Thank you for the best Christmas present ever.”

We spent the rest of the day together, and found that only the two of us were aware of any change. Even Grandma thought Moose had always been a girl, or at least she acted like she had. I did notice that the ladybug pendant was back around her neck; I guess it really did fly home.

It was a bit strange; for the most part everything had happened as before. The one major difference was that instead of charging at Greg and his friends after they hit me with the rock, Moose had run for help. Greg was all right, and it was he and his two friends that had been suspended, and were facing expulsion and possible criminal charges. I could remember both versions of what had happened, but the memories from before the wish were vague, like a dream that was hard to see clearly. It must have been really strange for Moose, who still remembered being a boy. But the happiness in her eyes, the joy in her laughter, told me that my wish had definitely come true. It was by far the best Christmas ever.

*****

Andy Jameson saved the file and closed his laptop. He wasn’t sure why he had felt compelled to write the story down after all these years. Most likely it was due to the passing of Grandma Jameson a few months earlier. She had lived to well past one hundred, and when she had finally closed her eyes for the final time, she had been surrounded by her family, including her six-year-old great grandchildren.

She hadn’t left much of an estate; her children didn’t need it, and she had poured everything she had into helping others in her travels. There was one item that she had left for Andy, and he smiled as he looked at the little wrapped box sitting on his desk. He had often wondered if Grandma had ever used the ladybug, and he suspected she had. He was even sure what her wish had been - a simple wish that she could touch as many lives and help as many people possible.

“Sweetheart, the kids are ready to open their presents.”

Andy looked up at the door and smiled as he said, “I’m on my way, Marcia.”

He took the little box and followed his wife downstairs, pausing only to grab his digital video camera to record the children as they opened up their presents. Six year old Mark and his twin sister Amelia, named for Andy’s grandmother, squealed with delight as they saw the pile of brightly wrapped packages beneath the tree. The youthful glee with which they attacked the pile brought smiles to their parents' faces.

Andy and Marcia exchanged gifts too, nothing fancy, just little things that spoke of their deep love. Andy was very proud of his wife and the work she did as a psychologist specializing in transgender issues. He knew first hand the pain such issues could cause in someone.

Marcia was equally proud of Andy, and loved the way it felt to be held in his strong arms. After a late start, Andy’s growth had literally exploded towards the end of middle school. He went on to play football in high school, but elected not to play in college, preferring to concentrate on academics. Now he worked for the district attorney’s office, and found great satisfaction in prosecuting those who preyed on the weak.

After all the presents were open and the twins were joyfully playing with their toys, Andy pulled out the little box and presented it to Marcia.

“I’ve got one more for you,” he said.

Marcia took the present and carefully removed the wrapping. Inside the little box was a gold chain with a ladybug pendant dangling from it.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. The red stones of the pendant glittered as Andy fastened the chain about her neck. Then Marcia kissed him passionately on the lips.

“I love you so much, Andy,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Merry Christmas.”

Andy wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he kissed her on the neck.

“I love you too, Moose.”

THE END

I didn't really plan on writing a second Christmas story, but this one just popped into my head while I was working on something else and refused to go away. I wanted to get it posted before Christmas, so there wasn't time to send it off to be proofed. If you see any glaring errors, just remember it's Christmas and be gentle with me!