diary of a teenage girl

deleted christmas scenes james and hikaru pov

Chapter 12: Santa baby (James' pov)

I twirl my finger in the fabric of my navy blue duvet. I fluff my matching pillows. I hum "Santa baby" and slowly fall into a dream state. I am in a museum in France. "Beautiful, isn't it?" A breathy voice, belonging to a female employee, says beside me. I look to where her gaze falls. A breathtaking statue of a woman sits before me. She sits with her legs to her chest, a book in her hands. In place of her eyes there are two sparkling gemstones. They are Emeralds. "What is it called?" I asked the woman. She smiles. "A life dedicated to an Iris," she says, placing a single purple Iris into my hands. "Take care of her," she says, before vanishing into nothing.
I look back at the statue, jumping back in alarm. It is now alive, and I see that it is in fact Iris. "James?" She says, dropping her book. I reach out to touch her. She shatters in my hands before I can catch the dust she becomes. "James!" A voice yells. "James!" It calls again.
December 25th

I tear my eyes open and sit up in bed. "James, it's Christmas!" My dad says, bringing me a donut. I smile wide. "Hi, dad." I say, taking the donut. I smile to myself as I remember Iris in a statuesque form. I get up and drudge my feet over to my bathroom. I decide to simply stay in my pajamas, and I go back into my room. I throw a pillow to the floor beside my bed, as a tired Jackson yells out. "Wake up!" I yell, grabbing every pillow on my bed off as I chuck them his way. I walk over to him. He's still on the air mattress I set out for him last night. "I'm pretty sure this thing deflated at around three a.m." he says, patting a hand on it.
I inspect the mattress. "That sounds about right," I conclude. "Is your dad coming?" I ask as he sits up in his bed- which barely qualifies as that. "Nope, he's got work." He says, standing up. I cross my arms over my chest. I don't know what to say. Jackson isn't exactly the type to like to be comforted, so I drop it. We walk out into the living room, where our mom stands with my dad, laying out roast chicken, steak, potatoes, pie, and more. I scratch the back of my neck. "Where did you get all of this?" I ask.
"I made it," my dad says, smiling. I hug my parents and my eyes fall hungrily onto the food, my stomach growling as if I haven't eaten in days. I bite my lip to subside the urge to inhale the food that lies in front of me. Not yet, I tell myself. Jackson elbows me as if I hadn't already taken note of the array of food that lies in front of me. "So when do we eat?" He asks, rubbing his hands together. "Tut tut, wait until you open your presents." Our mom says, swatting Jackson's extended hand.
He frowns dramatically. "This is for dinner," my dad clarifies. I look at the food and notice it is not ready to eat yet, cold, unprepared, and ungarnished. I sigh and head to my room, Jackson following. "We'll be watching a Christmas movie if you'd like to join," I say. I fall onto my bed and reach for my laptop. My bedroom door closes and Jackson and I exchange a curious look. We proceed to turn on the elf movie, only fifteen minutes in until we hear our parents' hushed but harsh voices. I get up from my bed and lean into my door. Jackson follows.
"Hear anything?" He whispers. "No," I responded. Suddenly there is yelling. I sigh and sit back on my bed. This is not out of the ordinary. Although my parents are divorced, they still fight like they did when they were together. Jackson's face puckers. "What did you hear, Jackson?" I ask. He walks away from the door and sits down next to me. "Your dad is mad because mom didn't get us any presents, she didn't help to cook, and she didn't bring my dad because she claims yours would freak out." He says, crossing his legs.
I shake my head. "You know what? I'm sick of this shit. They ruin every single moment with their incessant bickering even if it's about forgetting something as simple as a dentist's visit." I get up and throw the door open, stopping their yapping instantly. They look at me, confused. "Can you not ruin today? You have both your kids together on Christmas and you're throwing it away with your stupid fighting. I don't care if you stabbed a man, I just want one holiday not ruined by you two. It's extremely pathetic of you two to not be able to pull yourselves together to fake being happy for a single day. Is it not shameful for you to be fighting with us in the next room?" I say, my voice raising.
They stare at me with a slack look on their faces. My mother looks down and cries. I should feel bad, but I don't. "Pull yourselves together. Jackson and I are going to the store, you have thirty minutes." I grab the keys on the kitchen island and thrust the door open, walking as fast as I can to the elevator. Jackson looks at me cautiously. "I'm impressed." He chuckles. I snicker and shake my head. "They will never, ever, live up to the idols I made of them as a kid, damn it, I kissed the ground my mother walked on," I say, stifling a sob. I suck the urge to cry down my throat and stand high.
"Mom is . . Tough love, you could say." Jackson says. The elevator doors open and we step out into the lobby. I storm through the snow, kicking my feet hard on my car before I step into the drivers side. "You shouldn't drive angry," Jackson says. I huff and sit there, mulling it over. Eventually I give in and unbutton my seatbelt, letting him drive. "Sweet," he chuckles, running his hands down the steering wheel. He looks over to me excitedly. "What model?" He asks. I give him a look. "Yeah, sorry." He says, turning the key.
I slump into my seat, jamming my thumb onto the button, pushing the seat heater to the highest setting. "Turn on my playlist," he says. He recites his password to me and I play it. Bass shakes my car, jolting me out of my slouch. He nods his head to the music and I roll my eyes, despite the music being surprisingly good. After a while I sit up higher in my seat and look out the window while secretly singing along to his music- I would never let him know he has good taste. I put my hand on the glass, pulling back as it's cold to the touch.
"Where are you going? Are you even using directions?" I ask, looking at what does not seem to be the road to the supermarket. "We're not going to Walmart, James." He says, making a turn that throws me into the cup holders, almost spilling day-old coffee. I wipe espresso off of my arm. "Where are we going, then?" I say, holding on for dear life. He pulls into a small parking lot. "Fro-yo." He says, turning the car off. I throw him a look. "Fro-yo?" I glare at him. He smiles. "Yup." "Do we even have a fro-yo?" I ask, looking out my frosted window to see that there is indeed a fro-yo.
"Told ya'" he says proudly. "How did you even find this?" I ask. "I have a coupon from when I was five years old for this location near you. I always planned on going with you someday," he says, fixing the collar of his shirt. I look at him. "So you planned on telling me one day?" I ask, looking at him. He shrugs. "How could I not have? If you knew you had a brother all these years, would it not kill you to know they don't know of you and that you could have a sibling?" He asks. I think about it. "It would eat me alive." I conclude. We sit in silence until I get too tempted at the proposal of fro-yo.
We drag our feet through icy slush. "That coupon is definitely expired, by the way." I tell him. "Yeah, I know." He answers. 

Chapter 14: Christmas (Hikaru's pov)
I sit on the hardwood floors of our kitchen, scanning the recipes that pop up on my phone once more, despite them still being the same articles that I've been reading for the past hour. "Get up," my sister, Sakura says. She kicks a foot to my back lightly and I grumble. "You won't find their recipes on google," she tells me. I turn my head to look up at her. "Why didn't they write down their recipes?" I ask her, looking gloomily to the floor. She sighs. "Get up." She repeats. I haul myself from the floor and set a hand on my kitchen island.
I restrain from throwing the bagged groceries that lie on our counter to the marble wall across from me. I clench my hand into a fist. "Get out the ingredients," my sister says, pulling miscellaneous items out of the bags. I sigh. "Well, don't be lazy," she says, motioning to the bags. I look at the food items laid out on the table once we're done. "What now?" I groan. She rolls her eyes at me. "We cook." She says, clicking on the stove. I perk up. "How? Mom and dad didnt leave recipes," I say, looming down her back. She swats me away. "We cooked as a family every week, you really can't recall one recipe?" She asks. I think it over. I could probably make every dish my parents have ever taught me, now that I think of it.
I start helping her.