Free The Body in the Sleigh by Katherine Hall Page

Tried not to think about its cause—or where it should be going. “We Three Kings.” She knew all the words. They’d sung carols in school. Her town had been so Gentile, they didn’t even bother to put a menorah on the bulletin board for equal time. One year her teacher had all the children take off their shoes and put them outside the classroom in the hall, just like little Dutch children did at Christmas. Kriss Kringle would leave them a surprise while they studied their multiplication tables, she’d promised. When Miriam whispered to her that she was Jewish, the teacher had patted her arm and told her not to worry, that God loved her anyway. The big surprise was a candy Kiss for each child, even the sole heathen. And Kwanzaa? If local people had heard the word at all, they’d probably thought it was one of those way-too-spicy dishes from someplace they’d never been, or want to go.
    The Magi. Okay, so they brought gifts, but “frankincense”? “Myrrh”? Granted, these were precious substances back in the day, but what were Mary and Joseph supposed to do—sell them? Get someone to front for them? At least one of the kings had had the sense to bring gold. And maybe the shepherds had slaughtered a sheep, so at least there’d have been something to eat.
    Back in the bar, people were drifting out and new people were taking their places. Miriam found herself trying to explain about the three kings and their stupid gifts to a group in one of the booths, but they didn’t get what she meant. She was pretty sure that’s when she’d decided to come back to the apartment.
    She had to get out of bed. Had to do something about the pain. But she pulled the blanket up over her head and let herself sink back into oblivion. There was some pain that Tylenol couldn’t touch.
    It had been a good day. The teacher had divided the class into four spelling-bee teams. She read the words out loud very precisely—“occasionally,” “remunerative,” “deciduous”—and each team conferred quietly before writing the answers down on a sheet of paper. Miriam had known every single one and her team was the winner. Fifteen extra minutes of recess. Sheila Riley asked her to be her best friend just before they returned to the building. Of course Miriam said yes. Sheila had beautiful, long blond curls and big blue eyes. There wasn’t a mean bone in her body and everyone wanted to be her best friend. Miriam couldn’t believe Sheila was choosing her! They left school together, but had to get on different buses. Sheila’s family lived on the water in a big house. And now Miriam was going to get to see the inside. Sheila had invited her to sleep over next weekend. They were going to have a campfire on the beach and make s’mores.
    Her footsteps slowed as she walked up the driveway to the house. Her mother was home. The garage door was open and Miriam could see that the car was there. It was always there. Or her father’s was. Sometimes he took her mother’s to work, because he said if somebody didn’t drive it, the tires would go flat.
    Miriam walked around to the back of the house. They neverused the front door, which led straight into the living room. They never used the living room either. The furniture looked brand-new, even though her parents had bought it before Miriam was born. That had been over twelve years ago.
    She went in through the kitchen door. It looked the way she’d left it this morning—her cereal bowl, spoon, and the glass she’d used for her orange juice were in the drying rack next to the sink. Her father’s dishes were nowhere in sight. She’d heard him in the bathroom as she was leaving. The only time he ate breakfast at home was on Sundays.
    Her mother would be in bed. Maybe she’d be awake enough to listen to Miriam’s news—about winning the bee and going to Sheila’s.