A Treasury of Christmas Stories by Editors of Adams Media

play. I dove down but I didn’t know what to do. I was used to dressing and holding my baby dolls. I tentatively picked up a soldier and made a feeble attempt at “bang, bang.”
    â€œNo,” Freddie said, looking genuinely appalled. “You just shot one of our men. The enemies are over there!” He pointed.
    â€œThey all look the same,” I offered.
    â€œGirls,” he muttered. “On the other side of this line — over there!” he said, pointing again. “Those are the enemy.”
    Then he did the oddest thing. He took my hand and placed it in his, over the soldier. “Now say ‘bang, bang,’” he said.
    â€œBang, bang!”
    â€œGreat,” he said. “Now, try it alone.”
    We played for hours. It wasn’t like playing with dolls, but Freddie made it fun. So much so, that I could hardly wait till morning when Freddie planned to come back for a visit.
    The next day I tried out my cousin’s bows and magnetic arrows, missing the target every time. Freddie walked over and put his arms around me. “Like this,” he said, guiding my hand gently and patiently. I drew my arm back and got a bull’s-eye. Freddie’s eyes lit up. I remember it as though it were yesterday. “Yes, great!” he said, genuinely happy for me.
    Half of me was beginning to trust this male creature, the other half was waiting for him to start teasing or punching me. But it never happened. I had never felt the way I felt when Freddie placed his arms around me. It was a new feeling; a funny feeling. A very soft and close feeling. This, from a boy person. I felt, for the first time in my life, like a girl. A real girl.
    Subsequent visits to my aunt and uncle’s became less and less gloomy-sounding, and the nights, once scary, were now filled with the anticipation of the next day’s bringing Freddie and his ever-ready toy soldiers. Freddie and his platoon seemed to be glued together. If Freddie came over, so, too, did the soldiers. If I went to Freddie’s, the men in green stood ready and waiting.
    I learned something by playing with Freddie. I learned to put my dolls aside and to play with soldiers, even if it wasn’t as much fun. Because Freddie liked it. And he learned, too, I think, that playing father to my dolls wasn’t the end of the world. In fact, sometimes I think he almost liked it.
    I didn’t know firsthand about romance, but I had seen many movies, and Freddie and I began to kiss goodnight, first on the cheek, then once behind closed doors on the lips. I felt pretty for the first time in my life. My family and other adults used to say how pretty I was. But the boys in school made me feel like I had the bubonic plague or something. With Freddie, well, I felt, just maybe, that I wasn’t half bad after all.
    We visited Pennsylvania again for Christmas. I got the doll I wanted from my mother and a real pearl necklace from my aunt. By now, Freddie and I had known each other about a year and a half. On this visit, we stayed for several days, so I had plenty of time to be with Freddie. When the last day of vacation came, I felt sad. It had been a wonderful holiday and I dreaded going back to school.
    My aunt, grandmother, and mother went out shopping. Freddie came over shortly after they left. He was carrying a large, crumpled brown paper bag. Freddie held out both arms and pushed the bag into my hands.
    â€œWhat’s this?” I asked.
    â€œOpen it,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”
    I looked in the bag and then up at Freddie. In the bag were Freddie’s toy soldiers.
    â€œWhat?” I said.
    â€œIt’s for you,” he said.
    â€œBut they’re yours,” I said, astonished.
    â€œNo, I want you to have them,” he said, and he ran out of the door, slamming it behind him, not staying to play.
    I just looked at the door, not understanding why Freddie didn’t stay to play. Finally, I sat