“Fresh air is more important than ever!” Henry says.

  “Of course,” Vernon says. “But no walks off the property. Jane knows this, don’t you, Jane?”

  “Indeed,” I say.

  “Maybe you can play some winter croquet with your brother this week, yes?” Vernon suggests, as he casually tosses some of Mother’s postcards into the fire. Henry lets out a tiny gasp, which only I can hear. The fire reacts with a roar, and when it calms again, Vernon lets a few more fall from his hand into the flames. He continues talking.

  No loving your mother in front of Vernon. “It hurts me because she refuses to love me for who I am.”

  No being nice to Mother because that will make her think she is welcome in this house. I say, “This is literally her house.” Vernon ignores me and burns the rest of the postcards. Henry watches this with interest.

  I do not listen to the rest of the rules. I am Punk Rock Jane. I excuse myself before dessert. “I’m just so tired,” I say, and go to my room.

  I go to my bed and curl up under the covers. I’m not cold and I’m not particularly tired, but I feel the need to curl up under the covers to be safe. I can’t describe it. I do not know who I am anymore. This is what secrets do to a person.

  BRUTUS’S FAVORITE TRICK

  Oh, please, American teenage girls are the worst. She curls up in her bed and feels safe? She’s not safe. What girl is safe in bed? What girl is safe at all? I made sure, through centuries, that the game was rigged. From child pageants, cheerleaders, and frat party dares to wedded bliss, I’m in charge of safety and there is none.

  See, it’s a woman’s job to keep a family together—even if her husband is terrible. Even if he throws tables at her. Even if he fucks her sister. Even if he slaps her daughter. When she files for divorce, the women in town gossip about how she couldn’t keep a man and the men in town think she’s a heartless bitch.

  I love a good trap.

  And, like the no-kill traps Milorad uses to fetch me, this one is foolproof. The bait is inherent: women can’t do a damn thing right. All because they have soft skin and big hearts and love. They walk in for the babies, and if they dare to walk out, they’re failures. Even if they get away, I make sure they think it every day. I probably got your mom to hate herself somewhere along the way. And then I got you to hate her, too.

  HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE VANDERMAKER-COOKS!

  Today is Wednesday, December 25, 2024

  That’s what the e-card says. Marta shows it to me on her phone. There are three pictures—all doctored so that it looks as if our family spends time together. Whoever made these pictures even gave us a vacation! Like normal people.

  It’s like the moon landing conspiracy, but instead of the moon, it’s my life. We are a far cry from Christmas cards, beach vacations, and ice-skating. In one of the shots, it’s possible that Henry has three ears.

  Since The Christmas That Changed Everything, we don’t celebrate Christmas like we used to. There are presents—bought, wrapped, and sent by Mother—in the morning and a roaring fire at night, and Marta makes a turkey and a ham and her famous mashed at midday, but beyond that, it’s a prop tree that Milorad and Marta are paid to decorate, no Christmas music, and lies to God. Every year since he locked her in, it’s only gotten worse.

  I look at Henry, who is sitting quietly on the couch like a trained dog, staring at Jimmy Stewart at seven in the morning by himself.

  “This is bullshit,” I say to the empty study. “It’s supposed to be Christmas.”

  ACT II, SCENE 3

  INT. THE VANDERMAKER HOUSE; ALL ROOMS

  JANE is dressed in black pajamas and the BAND is dressed as Christmas ornaments and all wear Santa hats. Except DAVID, who wears a menorah as a hat—like singular majestic antler.

  Music fades in…

  Song: “What Is Christmas Anyway?”

  Composer notes: This is a holiday orchestral piece with violins and flutes and is quite peppy, with punk undertones.

  The FAMILY sits around the sitting room and opens presents, between little dances, as spotlights center each singer. As this song is sung, the entire day is acted out.

  MARTA

  I GOT UP AT FOUR AND LIT THE FIRE.

  JANE

  TENSION ROUND HERE COULDN’T BE MUCH HIGHER.

  MARTA and JANE

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  GEMMA walks into the living room where the song is taking place. Joins the choreography already in action and hugs Jane and HENRY.

  MINA

  IT’S MY ONE DAY OUT OF THE SYSTEM.

  VERNON (talking to FINCH, motions to his family)

  I’D BE LYING IF I SAID I’D MISS THEM.

  MINA and VERNON

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  HENRY

  I DAYDREAM OF FROGS AND PLANTS.

  MILORAD (holding brick)

  I MAINTAIN THIS MANLY STANCE.

  GEMMA (holding up tweed pants)

  I WASH AND PRESS JANE’S GOOD TWEED PANTS.

  ENSEMBLE

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  MINA (talking)

  This one’s for you, Henry!

  This one’s for you, Jane!

  Henry and Jane open presents nonstop throughout this scene.

  HENRY

  WE DON’T GO TO CHURCH OR WORSHIP JESUS

  THOUGH WE SAY “BLESS YOU” WHEN SOMEONE SNEEZES.

  ALL I WANT IS A HOTHOUSE FULL OF FROGS.

  AND A BRAND-NEW PAIR OF PLASTIC GARDEN CLOGS.

  JANE

  THIS YEAR EVERYTHING IS WEIRD FOR ME.

  NOTHING FEELS RIGHT OR FILLED WITH GLEE.

  I ONLY WANT TO GO BACK TO MY SCHOOL.

  MAYBE A GUITAR OR SOMETHING COOL.

  MINA (talking)

  This one’s for you, Gemma!

  This one’s for you, Marta!

  MARTA and Gemma open presents and also go between the sitting room tending the fire and the kitchen, where Christmas dinner is being made.

  GEMMA

  NO ONE’S ASKED, BUT HERE’S THE ANSWER.

  MY FAVORITE CHICKEN HAS DIED OF CANCER.

  THAT’S WHY I LOOK AS IF I’M ABOUT TO CRY

  BUT PLEASE DON’T ASK BECAUSE THEN I’LL HAVE TO LIE.

  MARTA

  DID YOU KNOW THAT I GOT MARRIED?

  IT’S A SECRET THAT I’VE CAREFULLY CARRIED

  BUT TODAY THAT SECRET WILL BE LEFT TO ROAM

  BECAUSE MY HUSBAND HAS BOUGHT US BOTH A HOME!

  ENSEMBLE

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  IT’S JUST ANOTHER INSIDE DAY

  HERE AT VERNON’S VICTORIAN PANDEMIC PRISON.

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  VERNON UNCORKS THE CABERNET

  BY NOON HE’LL HAVE COMPLETELY LOST HIS VISION.

  MINA (talking)

  This one’s for you, Milo!

  This one’s for you, Vernon!

  MILORAD and VERNON open gifts while Marta, Gemma and MINA set the table, light candles, tend the fire, clean up wrapping paper, and do all other chores.

  MILORAD

  I AM HAPPIER THAN I’VE BEEN BEFORE.

  IT’S BECOME IMPOSSIBLE TO IGNORE.

  HOW HENRY ACTS AND FEELS JUST LIKE A SON

  AFTER SO MUCH LOSS I FEEL AS IF I’VE WON.

  VERNON

  WHEN SHE’S OUT LIKE THIS SHE’S BEAUTIFUL

  BUT I MUST SOMEHOW BE DUTIFUL

  TO THE PLAN I’VE MADE TO DRIVE HER TO HER DEATH

  WE ALL KNOW THAT THE PLAN IS FOR THE BEST.

  The family and their people sit around the dining room table for Christmas dinner.

  ENSEMBLE

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  BUT SENTIMENTAL OVERSTAY.

  IT’S BETTER TO IGNORE THE URGE TO SMILE.

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  A CHANCE TO BLOCK THE DISARRAY

  AND SIT BACK AND RELAX A LITTLE WHILE.

  Marta and Mina clear the table and then Marta guides Mina back to the living room.

  JANE (talking)

  This one’s for you, Mother!

  HENRY (talking)

  This one’s for you, Mother!

  Mina hugs and holds her children, then they laugh and giggle and tickle each other on the floor of the sitting room.

  MINA

  I NEED NOTHING BUT TO BE HERE

  HOLDING BOTH OF YOU SO DEAR

  The children tickle Mina.

  I’M SO TIRED OF BEING LOCKED UP.

  THIS WHOLE ARRANGEMENT IS COCKED UP.

  Vernon sees this display and scowls, then texts someone on his phone, then moves to the System tube.

  MINA (CONT’D)

  STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S SUCH A BRUTAL MAN.

  IT’S TIME TO TELL THE TRUTH WHILE I STILL CAN.

  ENSEMBLE

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  A TIME TO HIDE THAT JANE IS GAY

  AND PRETEND LIKE VERNON’S REALLY NOT A DICK.

  WHAT IS CHRISTMAS ANYWAY?

  A DAY TO PLAN YOUR RUNAWAY

  AND YOU’D BETTER DO IT MIGHTY FUCKING QUICK.

  Vernon stands by the open System door and beckons Mina into it. Mina hugs the children and Marta, then steps in. Vernon closes the door and Mina sits on her chair. The capsule slowly descends.

  MARTA

  I’LL WASH THE DISHES AND HE’LL DRY.

  MILORAD

  I’LL TRY MY BEST-BEST NOT TO CRY.

  MARTA and MILORAD

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  GEMMA

  I’LL TRY TO MAKE IT HOME BY NINE.

  HENRY

  WHERE DID VERNON PUT ALL THAT WINE?

  GEMMA and HENRY

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  VERNON

  IT’S TIME WE CRANKED THIS UP A NOTCH.

  JANE

  IT’S TIME TO SYNCHRONIZE MY WATCH.

  FINCH arrives stage left just as Mina disappears into the floor.

  FINCH

  VERNON, WHERE’D YOU PUT THAT SCOTCH?

  ENSEMBLE

  IT’S CHRISTMAS!

  Afterglow

  We all got what we wanted. Henry got his hothouse kit; I got an easel, some canvas, and two sets of brushes; Vernon got a leather briefcase handcrafted in Italy; Mother got a ten-minute FaceTime from a sunflower-heavy hotel room where she isn’t confined to anything; and Finch got to watch Mother say goodbye before she wanted to. Even Brutus got a night out on the town.

  “I have not seen him all day,” Milorad says to Marta in the kitchen. “I am too old to chase a rat.”

  Marta pours him a nighttime cognac, and he goes to his pool house.

  Finch and Vernon sit in the sitting room, fire blazing, and they don’t know that Henry and I are sitting behind the enormous Christmas tree.

  Finch says, “They won’t even let me see the deed.”

  “Does it really matter?” Vernon asks.

  She looks at him and thinks. “I suppose not once she’s gone.”

  “It’ll all be mine then,” Vernon answers.

  “Ours,” Finch says. “All ours.”

  When Finch kisses Vernon, they look like two groundhogs. I don’t know why that’s the animal that comes to mind, but maybe I wish they’d go hibernate and not come out until February or ever.

  “What are they even talking about?” Henry asks.

  “They want to steal the house from Mother and us,” I say.

  “Fat chance, suckers,” he whispers, holding the last syllable.

  I look at Henry. “Are you drunk?”

  He rolls his eyes like I’m tedious. “What do you think eggnog is made of?”

  * * *

  —

  Mother called again on New Year’s Day. She was given only ten minutes again, but this time she was prepared and said goodbye herself. She said two things that were particularly notable.

  When Henry asked her if the crowd-surfing was good on this tour, she said, “I don’t do that. I’m in my fifties now, love.”

  And a minute later, she said, “I think this might be my last album. I have other stuff to do in the world.”

  It gave me some kind of hope.

  Postmarked December 28, 2024

  A Picture of the Beach in Seaside Heights, New Jersey

  Dear Jane and Henry,

  I missed you so much on Christmas. Vernon said it was best I didn’t come on account of you both being sick. I hope you still had a good day, regardless. I decided to go to the beach in NJ and spent the day walking in the cold surf. It felt invigorating. I miss taking you guys places! Do you remember our trip to Jamaica? Henry, you were little but, man, you had such fun with the fish in the sea. I miss those days. Happy New Year. Wish I was there. I leave for European tour on Jan 2nd. Will send more postcards! Love, Mom

  The first week of January, Vernon moved me on to African geography. He is so laser-focused on geography that he seems to have forgotten the other subjects he’s “teaching” me. I asked him as I filled in the African country names without even having to double-check, “When will we discuss The Catcher in the Rye?”

  He groaned and answered, “You’re some cookie, you are, just sitting there asking me when this and when that.”

  “No pressure,” I say. “I was just curious.”

  He doesn’t look up from the magazine he’s reading. “Celebrate! You finally won, Jane. You finally have all the power now! All because you read a book!”

  Honestly. I think the pocket watch is driving him mad.

  Postmarked January 3, 2025

  A Picture of a Flower-Adorned Bicycle on a Bridge Over a Canal

  Dear Jane and Henry,

  It begins! We start in Amsterdam, where the canals are beautiful and the croissants are perfect. We had a photo shoot on a houseboat this morning, where David decided we should dress up as sharks. (There are no sharks here.) Tonight we have our first of two shows. Then two nights in Paris, and then a few days off in Spain before a show in Barcelona and then driving to Switzerland. Henry, I am sending a case of proper Dutch tulips to you. I chose purple because the hue was rich and deep. Jane, I plan on getting you a special ukulele in Salzburg when we stop there. Running out of room! Love you, Mom

  LESSON SIX: GEOGRAPHY OF A SLAP

  Today is Friday, January 10, 2025

  Postmarked January 5, 2025

  A Picture of the Eiffel Tower at Night

  Dear Jane and Henry,

  Hello from Paris, where it’s raining and so cold! We had such a great show last night—then we went to a local pub and played an acoustic set for three more hours. It was fun but we’re all too tired today. How are things there? Will you call me soon—I miss you and not seeing you at Christmas was hard! I can’t wait to get home for good. I think I may never leave home again after that. I love you both, so much. Love, Mom

  The Letter

  “JANE!”

  That’s Vernon screaming my name at eight in the morning. I mean screaming. I put down my notebook where I’m matching fifty-four African capitals to their countries.

  “JANE!”

  He’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, pacing, and he’s holding an envelope.

  When I arrive in front of him, he slaps me hard across the face.

  I recoil and back up the stairs. He walks up the stairs toward me, shaking the envelope in my direction.

  “You did it!” he says. “Little bitch! Always trying to make a fool out of me!”

  “I—” I notice my hand is on my face where he slapped me. I can’t remember moving my hand to my face. He stops advancing on me, so I stop backing up. He stares at me for a moment, then walks back to the landing.

  “Is it from Mother?” I ask.

  I can see from here it’s typed, so it’s probably not from Mother.

  “Read it.” He shoves it at me.

  Once I see the school district letterhead, I know that I’m about to act the most convincing role of my life. To the Parents of Jane Vandermaker Cook…standard benchmarks…not met…a representative from the district…visit your home…January 16, 2025…Contact the district office…questions…appreciate…compliance.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  Vernon snatches the letter from my hands, turns, and storms down the stairs.

  “Why are they coming?” I yell after him.

  “Why are they coming?” Vernon mocks, as he paces at the landing of the stairs. “Why do you think they’re coming? You know—if you want to go to school so badly, I’ll send you to boarding school. It would give Henry and me good bonding time, you being away from here.”

  “Please don’t send me away,” I say.

  “If you could just be better…at being a daughter, this could work out. You have this annoying similarity to Mina. You’re—you’re headstrong. Stubborn. And yet so…so…fucking nice.” He stops to take a breath. “But it’s not real nice. It’s all fake with you two. You’re always manipulating. Always—like that! Like that!”

  He points at the single tear running down my cheek. I feel terrible, for certain, because I do not lie to God and here I am lying. But I didn’t think the school district would answer a ransom note from a sixteen-year-old girl sent back in October. Anyway, the tear is real because I just got hit by my father for the first time, and to handle it, my brain is running a sale on the capitals of African countries. Kinshasa, Dakar, Abuja, Nairobi, Cairo, Monrovia…