I’ve got a Christmas miracle for you: Skinny got a date.

Maybe that Tom Jones getup did the trick, but he called up a girl who'd danced with him the weekend before. Her name’s Mona Lisa, and I know because Skinny’s been saying her name in his bed ever since. I’d hear moans to go along with Mona and sighs to go along with Lisa, and I’d hear his breathing pick up so high you’d think he was dreaming of toting her up the tallest hill in our neighborhood.

She goes to Sacred Heart Academy, Mona Lisa does, an all-girls high school like Assumption. A lot of the girls from those two schools go out with boys from the all-boys high schools on our side of town, one being St. X where Skinny went, and the other being Trinity.

If you’re thinking Skinny was in a good mood for the last couple of days, you’d be right. But he’s also been thinking he’s big-time, too good to even shovel snow from the front steps, and acting like he had a girlfriend just because he'd found one to go out with him one time.

So why would I be in a hurry to get out of the house? I didn’t want to hear anymore of Skinny’s bragging or cut-downs, and besides, Violet Kirkpatrick’s Christmas party’s tonight. And I had my escape perfectly planned.

It began by me jumping down the stairs, making Dad yell, "Dammit to hell, Chas! Knock off the jumping!”

“Sorry, Dad,” I said, taking it easy down the last of them.

Okay, now they knew I was dressed and ready to leave.

When I reached the hallway landing, I could see Skinny in the living room. He was showing off his early Christmas present from Mom and Dad. It’s what’s called a Nehru jacket. They wear them in India and have collars almost like priests and a weird row of buttons that runs all the way down to below the crotch. And Skinny’s was green.

Okay . I snuck down the steps to the side door, but when I got there, I could only see my old CPO. Damn. I really wanted to wear my early Christmas present CPO to the party. I had to think quick on my feet. “Mom, where’s my new CTO?” I knew as soon as I said that it didn’t sound right, but before I could correct myself, Skinny jumped in.

“Duh, CPO,” he shouted sarcastically. “It stands for Chief Petty Officer.”

“Duh back,” I said. “I just said it wrong.”

Mom must’ve given Skinny a warning look because then he said, “Yeah, I know. He’s just a dumb little kid.”

“It’s hanging up on the bottom landing,” Mom said. “Where it’s supposed to be.”

“Welp, I don’t see it. I just see my old — ” I found it hanging beneath my old one, and then I remembered I'd worn the old one when clearing snow off the sidewalk.

Okay. I put it on.

Okay. I opened the door.

“Found it,” I said. “'Bye Mom! 'Bye Dad! Be home by ten-thirty! Oh, and 'bye to you too, Gumby!”

Okay . I stepped outside.

“Be careful. Wait!” Mom yelled. “You be home at — ”

Okay . I slammed the door.

“Nokay,” I said, slapping my cheeks. “'Bye Gumby?” I said out loud. I'd meant, 'Bye Gandhi. Jesus! I’m so stupid!

But trudging up our snowy back hill, I thought about it some more, and Yep, 'bye Gandhi is definitely the smarter zinger, but seeing as how Skinny’s jacket was green, and it looked the way it did, 'Bye Gumby worked good, too.