A/N: I in no way hate aluminum trees or The Beach Boys (I actually love them both)-I just think Ponyboy most likely would, especially since he's in sort of a sour mood in this, and understandably so.

Also, this story is super sad-it mentions both Steve's mother and Two-Bit's dad, as well as the Curtis parents (and there's a brief part about a dog dying, too)-so if you're sensitive to talk of parents leaving or passing away, you might want to skip this one.

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My old man had saved up for six months to buy us that Christmas tree. Sure, it wasn't a real one-it was one of those tacky-looking aluminum trees everybody liked to laugh at-but it was our tree. That tree meant a lot to all of us. Our gang had made it a tradition to decorate it together for as long as I could remember. And, for seven years straight, we always followed it.

I'd dreaded the holiday season all of nineteen sixty-five, knowing that it wouldn't be the same without my parents, and trying to convince myself I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. That grew even harder in September. But, eventually, I couldn't escape the thought anymore. I couldn't turn my head away from the wreaths decorating all the shop windows downtown, or cover my ears whenever a carol played on the radio. And I knew I couldn't put it off any longer when I saw Darry dragging that goddamned aluminum tree down from the attic a week before Christmas.

"Do we have to do it tonight, Darry?" I asked from the couch. "I've got some homework over break I'd better get started on."

Darry rolled his eyes. "You've got until January to do that homework. We can't keep putting this off, and you know I'm busy weeknights. Do me a favor and grab that box of ornaments from the attic?"

I got up from the couch and sighed. "Fine. Just give me a couple minutes."

"Never thought I'd see the day you didn't make the kid do schoolwork," Two-Bit remarked with a chuckle as I made my way to where the ladder hung from the ceiling. I climbed it easily, trying to ignore their conversation. Christmas had always been my favorite holiday, but as far as I was concerned, it wasn't Christmas without Johnny or Dally, much less my own parents. It seemed strange that we were approaching a year since the car crash and I still couldn't think about it without wanting to bawl.

All of our ornaments were kept inside of a cardboard box way up in the attic. We hardly ever went up there-only around the holidays, or to get my Mom's old china for the rare dinner parties she held from time to time. She didn't trust us with it downstairs, and I couldn't blame her. But our attic was dirty-covered in dust and ancient cobwebs, and home to the occasional bat. Wanting to spend as little time up there as possible, I made my way across the floor, the wood creaking with each step I took. I brushed the dust off of the box and carried it back to the ladder, where I saw Darry waiting at the bottom.

"Careful," he warned me, keeping the box steady as I handed it to him from the top of the steps.

"I know, I know," I muttered. "Could we just hurry up and get this over with?"

Darry furrowed his eyebrows. "Come on, kid, ain't it your favorite holiday? I thought you'd be looking forward to decorating the tree this year."

I shrugged. "I dunno. It don't really seem like Christmas, does it?"

"Guess not," Darry sighed. "Hey, I know it's different. But we'll have a good time, alright? Just like we always do."

Everyone was already waiting in our living room when Darry set the box down right next to the tree. Sodapop had bought that god-awful Christmas album that The Beach Boys had come out with last year, and was setting it up on the record player.

"Y'all ready?" he asked. "I'm coverin' for Joey tonight, so I don't have too much time to lose."

"It won't take too long," Darry reassured him. He opened up the box of ornaments and took one out. Steve peered over his shoulder.

"Didn't you make that one, Soda?" he asked. Soda came across the room to look at it, and I followed. It was a pinecone, with a few pom-poms and a string hastily glued to it.

"Oh, yeah," replied Soda. "Back in kindergarten. Think we both did." He took it from Darry and hung it near the top of the tree. "Man, sometimes I miss those days."

"You, missin' school?" Two-Bit scoffed, his trademark grin on his face. I had been thanking God all year that it was still there-it was the one thing that would never change. "Christ, what has the world come to?"

"It ain't about school," Soda replied, sighing wistfully. "I mean when things were easy, you dig?"

I knew what he meant. Christmas used to be something my whole family-the gang included-would look forward to. My father would get the day off of work, so he had the whole day to spend with the rest of us. We hardly ever got to see him, only on the weekends and the evenings when he didn't have to work overtime. And we'd invite everyone over for dinner, plus Two-Bit's mother and his kid sister Brenda. Mrs. Mathews (she'd kept her husband's last name even after he'd left in the hopes he'd come back) would always shake her head and say they had food at home, and my mother would smile and tell her that our home was their home, too. Those were the Christmases I missed-the ones where none of us had a care in the world. I'd taken them for granted.

I dug through the box of ornaments. Almost all of them had stories-whether we'd made them in grade school or bought them ourselves. Two-Bit had lifted a couple, even, just for the hell of it. He'd always said it was fair game if it wasn't tied down. Besides, he somehow managed to break one every year, and that was his way of making it up to us.

There was a tin one my old man had gotten four or five years ago in the shape of a dog, since it'd looked so much like our mutt. My dog Max had been a light golden color-sort of like Old Yeller-and real scruffy, with big brown eyes. We'd had him for nine years, raised him since he'd been a puppy, before we'd lost him to cancer in the spring of last year. My mother had scolded my father when he'd bought the ornament, saying it was a waste of money and that we didn't need any more of them, but I'd seen her smile hanging it up on the tree. It was the little things like that I missed more than anything.

"Hey, it's ol' Max," Two-Bit said. His voice startled me. I hadn't been listening much to their conversation. Too busy thinking for that. "Golly, it seems like so long since y'all had him. Man, did I love that dog."

"I remember when y'all first got him," Steve added. He paused, and then chuckled. "Wasn't Ponyboy afraid of him back then?"

Soda laughed. "Yeah, he was. I remember I'd bring Max home from a walk, and Pony'd go runnin' straight for the couch. That didn't last too long, though, once he'd gotten used to havin' that dog around."

"Sure miss that little guy," sighed Two-Bit. He stepped back from the tree and looked on. We'd made good progress-we were already about halfway done decorating it.

"We should get another dog, Darry," Soda suggested. "That'd be real nice."

"Who needs a dog when I've got you four to feed n' clean up after?" Darry asked, messing up his hair. We all laughed. I missed having a dog around the house-I really did. But we could barely afford one back then, and I could only dream of having the money for another one now.

I looked back through the box and pulled out an ornament. It was a red paper heart with a photograph glued onto it-a picture of my parents on their wedding day. Though it was in black and white, I could've recognized it anywhere. That ornament had always been my favorite. There was my mother, with her wavy golden hair covered up by a veil and her vivid green eyes and one of the most genuine smiles I had ever seen. She stood in a simple white gown with a neckline my grandmother hadn't quite liked and a long train, and held a bouquet of roses in her arms. She'd been young when she'd married my father-only eighteen-but they'd stayed together right up until the very end.

My father was next to her in a suit and tie-the only time I'd ever seen him in a suit and tie. He'd had dark hair, just like Darry's, and brown eyes like the ones Soda had now. And he had a stupid grin on his face, and one arm wrapped around my mother. He'd been nineteen then.

I stood there and stared at the faded photograph for a minute, taking all of it in, before placing it gently back in the box. I would have felt awful hanging it up-the kind of awful I couldn't really describe. It just wouldn't have felt right. I wasn't supposed to be the one hanging that ornament on the tree-they were. They'd always done it, and kissed under the mistletoe right afterwards when they thought no one was looking. Like I said, it was the little things.

"Hey, which one was that?" Darry asked. He took it out of the box before I could stop him. He squinted at the photograph before stepping closer to the tree. "It's Mom and Dad. Right after they got married."

Silence was a rare thing at our house, but if it weren't for The Beach Boys, I could've heard a pin drop. Darry sighed and hung up the ornament right next to where Soda had placed the pinecone. No one said too much after that. My parents had been everyone's parents. Two-Bit hadn't had a father in eight whole years, and Steve's was as good as gone to him. His mother was dead-she'd caught pneumonia one winter and they couldn't afford to go to the hospital. That'd been when Mr. Randle had started drinking so much.

We finished the tree quickly and quietly, the lack of conversation a good reason to get the rest of it done faster. That was, until we got to the star at the bottom of the box.

Johnny had always been the one to put up that star. That was another little thing I couldn't have a proper Christmas without. The biggest one. No matter what, Johnny would make sure he got the star up on top of the tree. The rest of us would hang up the last ornaments, and he'd grab it and reach as high as he could to place the star on the tallest branch. Then, he'd stand back and beam at it, looking proud of himself, and rather smug, too. He'd always been quiet, but more self-assured before he'd gotten that scar earlier in the year.

Steve was the one to take it out of the box this time. He looked sort of shocked when he did, and held it out in front of himself. Eyebrows furrowed, he glanced around the room. We were all thinking the same thing.

"Should I put this up?" he asked. "I mean-"

"Johnnycake always did," Soda mentioned, his voice strangely quiet. I'd never heard that from him before, and it scared me a little. "Didn't he?"

Darry stuffed his hands in the pockets of his Levi's. "Yeah, he did."

The room went quiet again-this time for real. We'd reached the end of side two of the record, and no one knew what to say. After a second, Two-Bit was the first to speak. He sat down on the sofa.

"Man, Christmas just ain't gonna be the same this year," he sighed.

Soda nodded. "Yeah, I know. Me and Darry hate leavin' you and Pony alone on Christmas, but we can't afford to take the day off."

"Oh, we'll be alright," I said. "It ain't that, anyways. You know it ain't. It's just not Christmas without all seven of us, let alone Mom and Dad."

"I know this has been hard on you, Pony," Darry replied. "Hey, but listen. After all of this, we've still got each other. And it's always been your favorite holiday, Pony, so you'd better enjoy it while you still can. Don't let that be taken away from you, too. Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted that."

"Neither would Johnny or Dally," Two-Bit added. "Come on, kid. They may not be here, but at least we've got the memories we made with 'em, right?"

I thought for a second about all the Christmases we'd had in the past. There'd only been six of us at first, up until Dally had come down to Tulsa from New York at fifteen. He'd been sixteen when we'd invited him over to decorate the tree with us. We'd only been able to have two Christmases with Dally, both of which he'd spent on the sofa, smoking a cigarette and watching the rest of us decorate the tree. Two-Bit and Steve had both joked about it, calling him Ebenezer Scrooge, among other things. He'd smarted back that he was surprised they even knew who that was. We'd all had a good laugh about it. That was the kind of thing I missed most of all.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But what are we gonna do with that star? I know I couldn't put it up there if I tried. It wouldn't be right, would it?"

"I think I've got an idea," Soda told us.

Two-Bit laughed. "That'd be the first of those you've had in a while, Soda."

Soda rolled his eyes and grabbed the star from Steve's hand. "Oh, shut your trap, Two-Bit. Come on. Let's get in the car."

We all piled into Darry's Ford, wondering where Soda would take us. I sat in the backseat, right between Two-Bit and Steve. Soda started the car and sped off down the street.

"Where exactly are you planning on takin' us, Soda?" Steve asked. "Don't you have to be back at work soon?"

"Don't worry," Soda answered. "This won't take but five minutes."

Steve only shrugged and stared out the window. It was dark outside, with a few faint stars illuminating the night sky. It was already nine thirty, but Soda and Darry were always busy during the day. Steve, too. The three of them worked full-time all week long, except for Sundays.

Darry turned on the radio to fill the silence. I'd never been much for Christmas music, but Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" was better than The Beach Boys. I'd always dreamt of a white Christmas, too. But I doubted that would ever happen-not in Oklahoma.

Finally, Soda pulled up to the church I hadn't seen in months. The exterior was all decked out for the holidays, with a wreath at the entrance and a garland strung across the worn-out white paneling. I was still wondering what he was doing. He never went to church, and I'd stopped going for number of reasons. I'd have a hard time showing my face there after what had happened when we had brought Sodapop to Mass, and I couldn't really go anymore without remembering Johnny, anyways. I hoped the big man upstairs understood.

"You're takin' us to pray?" Steve asked, getting out of the car.

"No, I ain't takin' you to pray," Soda told him. "And keep your voice down."

We followed Sodapop through the parking lot, past the church, and through a wrought iron gate into a little cemetery off to the side of the building. Many of the graves were adorned with poinsettias for Christmas. I recognized two small headstones near the front entrance-though they lacked names, they were well-kept from frequent visitations. We always made sure to drop by every once in a while.

We'd scattered my parents' ashes out in the countryside over the summer, but Johnny's parents had reluctantly arranged to bury him, and we'd put him and Dallas right next to each other. Dally hadn't seen his parents in two years-they were back in New York. Their funeral had gathered quite the crowd. Some of the parents of the kids he'd saved in that church had brought their families with them. Seventy-two people in all had been in attendance that day to say goodbye to him-and Dallas, too. They'd both died gallant, no matter how much bull had been printed in the paper about Dallas Winston.

Sodapop knelt down on the ground where Johnny had been buried. Gently, he leaned the star up against the unmarked stone.

"Merry Christmas, Johnnycake."

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A/N: I did not originally plan out that ending when I came up with the idea for this story, and I'm sorry it ended up being so sad. On a happier note, happy holidays (and end of 2020) to everyone, and thank you for reading!