We make a left into a long steep driveway. The car groans up the hill like a plane taking off. I whisper to Annie. Near the top of the hill is a weathered barn engulfed by pine trees. Mr. Stewart parks among the glittering cars in the driveway.
Brass lanterns flicker along a stone path leading up to the door.
I whisper to Annie. We climb from the car, Annie holding our present at arm's length as if it's a time bomb. We trudge behind Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Laughter spills from the windows of the barn into the crisp air. Suddenly I wish I were Ivan, with his brown hair and cardigan sweaters.