“We don’t go caroling there,” another girl, Margaret, explained. “That’s old Mary Atkin’s house. No one’s seen her in years. She orders groceries from the store and everything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her.”
“But she’s been listening,” Mellissa said.
Everyone laughed and made more rude comments.
Tears stung Mellissa’s eyes and she stood closer to Stacy.
Stacy stepped back. “Geez, Mellissa, stop it would you?”
“She’s been listening to you sing,” Mellissa insisted.
“How do you know?” Paul asked.
“I’ve been watching the lights.”
“When you started singing down at the end of the street,” Mellissa pointed to a large white house, “there was one light on at the top of the house. I watched the lights go on and off on each floor. Now she’s downstairs.”
They looked. A yellow rectangle shone on the main floor.
“Well, I’m going home,” Marci said. “I’m cold, and you can be sure there won’t be any hot apple cider in that house.”
“Probably hot metamucil,” Mike snickered, following Marci.