Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Here's a little number I tossed off recently in the Caribbean…

No, not really. But ten points if you know where that's from without looking it up. Actually this is the other 'New Year' story I wrote over the holidays but never got round to posting, I thought I'd give it a polish and take it out for a spin. I don't know if there'll be any more to it, it's pretty self-contained, but I'll leave it up to you guys to decide if you want another chapter.

.

.

.

It was only a winter's tale

Just another winter's tale

And why should the world take notice

Of one more love that's failed?

.

.

.

Jade West sat alone in her room, cross-legged on the bed. New Year's Eve. It was New Year's Eve and she was sick. Too sick to go to the party, too sick to venture far from the safety of her room and its en-suite bathroom. But she'd stayed up anyway, long enough to see the new year in. Partly from a dogged determination not to let herself be beaten by a bug, and partly because she'd made a resolution. Not a big resolution, not a life-changing, epic upheaval, but a resolution nonetheless. Because she could still see their faces when she'd announced that she wouldn't be able to make the party, when she'd sat down and given them the tragic, cataclysmic news that she wouldn't be going, that Jade West would not be attending. They'd tried not to show it, but it was there all the same. Relief. An atmosphere of palpable relief. Even Beck, who'd had more practice than most, couldn't bring himself to look disappointed. Only Tori managed to cover her euphoria. In fact, Tori, strangely, had looked anything but pleased, and had slunk away from the table with barely a word, unable to catch her eye.

But no more. Things were going to change.

She wasn't going to go crazy with it, obviously. She wasn't going to start baking cookies or having slumber parties or not laughing when something terrible happened to Trina, that would be ridiculous. But she was going to mellow a little, try to be more of a 'people person'. Friendlier. Less of a gank. And so at midnight exactly, she'd sent out a dozen texts. Happy New Year.

She hadn't punctuated it with a million exclamation marks, or festooned it with smiley faces and hearts, but it was a start. She'd never wished anyone a happy new year before, she'd never seen the point. Why should she care if they had a happy new year? That was up to them, it was no skin off her nose if they screwed up. But it had slowly dawned on her that people expected these things, that they were the grease that kept the wheels turning, and if you didn't do those things, pretty soon the wheels rusted solid and before you knew it you were staring into the faces of the only friends you had, knowing that they'd rather you weren't there.

That was half an hour ago.

Now she stared at her phone, as it stared blankly back at her. Nothing. Not a single response. Not even Beck, who she'd expected to reply out of habit, or at least in acknowledgement of the fact they'd once been a couple. Nothing.

She pressed the button to keep the screen alive, as she had been doing every thirty seconds since she sent the texts. Still nothing. She felt her resolution crumble, turn to ashes in her mouth. Too little too late. It was stupid to think that a text would change anything. She told herself that perhaps they hadn't noticed, that they were too busy dancing, or it was too loud to hear the phone, but it didn't make any difference. Her little gesture of reconciliation was lost in the darkness, unheard in the noise of the fun they were having while she wasn't there. Because she wasn't there, probably.

She was still mulling this over when the text came through. The ping made her jump, as the screen flashed into life. One new message.

It must be Beck. He must have had a drunken moment of guilt. She unlocked the phone.

Happy New Year x.

She blinked. It was from Tori. Out of all of them, only Tori had cared enough to reply. She felt a sudden surge of affection for the girl she'd spent so long fighting with, a re-evaluation of the girl that just wouldn't roll over and give in. She'd been pretty mean to Tori, all things considered, and that in itself made it all the more surprising that she should be the one to respond. And yet that was her all over, always ready to bounce back when she'd been pushed away, keep on smiling through the worst she could throw at her. Maybe she was reading too much into it, maybe Tori had an obsessive compulsion that made her reply to every text she got. But even that was part of her warmth, part of what made her shine. And what she wouldn't give for a little of that right now. To have her here, lighting up the dark, banishing the cold with a hug.

She swiped the phone and began to type, conscious of losing the moment. How's the party?

There was a pause, and she pictured Tori squinting at the message in a crowded room, chewing her lip in concentration as she typed her reply.

It was okay. We missed you.

She laughed in the dark. She knew Tori was lying to spare her feelings. There was a stinging behind the eyes, and she realized she was crying. This flu thing was making her way too emotional. She wiped at her cheek with her sleeve.

Where are you now?

I'm outside.

What was she doing outside? Waiting for a taxi? It was freezing. Maybe she should scrape herself off her deathbed and go collect her, give her a lift home. That was the kind of self-sacrifice she'd appreciate.

Outside where?

Another pause.

Your house.

The words danced on the screen. Your house. Nine letters that seemed to make absolutely no sense. Whose house? My house? Why would she be…

She reached the bottom of the stairs before the phone hit the bed, and yanked open the front door, to find a shivering Tori Vega on her doorstep. Flakes of snow were settling gently in her hair.

"What the hell?"

"Oh, hi," the other girl said, as though there was nothing remotely unusual about turning up at someone's house in the snow at twelve-thirty in the morning. "I was just-"

"Get in here." She grabbed Tori by the arm, noticing how thin her jacket was. "You'll catch your death out there."

Tori came in, dripping gently. "Thanks."

"Did you walk here?"

"Only from the party," Tori said. "It's not far."

"But why, for God's sake?"

"You texted me."

"Only to wish you a happy new year," Jade said. "I didn't mean for you to drop everything and come over."

"Do you want me to go?"

"What? No, of course not," Jade said quickly. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't think..."

"Didn't think what?"

"No one else even replied to my text."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. "She shrugged. "Maybe they never got it."

There was a guilty silence while Tori looked shiftily at her feet.

"They did, didn't they?" Jade said, accusingly. "They all got it. Right, that's it," she said. "Forget the stupid resolution, first day back at school, they're dead meat."

"What resolution?"

Jade was still lost in a fantasy of mass destruction. "I am so gonna… What?"

"I said, what resolution?"

"Oh. It was nothing," she muttered. "I was just-" She found the words sticking in her throat, and coughed. "I was just going to try being nicer to people, that's all."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Jade said, bitterly. "Well, they've had that. If no one wants to know, then screw 'em."

"I want to know." Tori said.

"I…" Jade's mouth opened and closed a few times but she didn't know what to say. She noticed that Tori was looking at her oddly. "What?"

"Are you crying?"

She blinked, and felt warmth on her cheeks. "No," she said, brushing the tear away. "It's just this stupid bug I've got."

"Right."

They stood facing each other for a moment. A cold breeze blew in from the still open door, but Tori made no move to close it. Jade wondered if she was leaving herself an escape route. "So, did you bring chicken soup?" she said, trying to lighten the conversation.

"What?"

"Chicken soup. It's what people usually bring when they're trying to make you feel better."

"No, I didn't bring chicken soup."

"Oh. Well, that's good," she said. "Because I hate chicken soup."

"I know."

There was another long pause, and Jade began to wonder if she was missing something. Tori seemed distracted, tense. "Do you want a drink or something?" she said. "I can put on some coffee, or-"

"Jade?" Tori stared down at her fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you hate me?"

Jade felt a chill that had nothing to do with the open door. "No, of course I don't hate you," she said. "Why would you think that?"

Tori said nothing, and there was something about the way she was stood, eyes down, head bowed, swaying slightly, that unnerved Jade.

"Look, I know I can be a gank at times," she said, suddenly desperate to justify herself. "But that's just us, isn't it? Me and you. You know, high-jinks, laughs. We butt heads, we face off. But I don't really mean it. I don't hate you. If anything, I... kind of like you," she finished, lamely.

Tori nodded. "Good," she murmured, almost to herself. "That's good."

Jade waited, but there was no more. "Please tell me you didn't come all the way over here just to ask me that." She'd meant it lightly, but to her dismay it came out as slightly pitiful.

Tori looked up. "No, I didn't."

"So…?"

"So?"

Jade shrugged, helpless in the face of Tori's reticence. "So, why did you come over?"

.

.

.

Another year. Another party. But this year it was different.

Jade wasn't here. Tori had looked forward to this for weeks, and then Jade had cried off sick. She didn't know why it bothered her so much - it didn't seem to bother anyone else, they'd barely been able to hide their delight when she told them she wasn't going, and Tori had had to leave the table before she said anything reckless. And it wasn't as if she wasn't going to see her again after the holidays, they'd be arguing and fighting before the snow outside was off the ground. But still she'd looked forward to seeing her tonight, to that slight acknowledgement that they existed outside of school. Because school was ending soon, and the thought that they were just classmates whose last shared moments would be a faded graduation photograph filled her with a sudden despair. It was ridiculous, she knew, Jade probably wouldn't give two hoots about the fact she'd never see her again, but still she couldn't help it, couldn't help looking for a sign, just the slightest indication, that it wasn't true, that there was more to them than that. Because if there wasn't, then the next time she was at a party like this, stood waiting for the clock to strike midnight, it would all be over. She'd be at college, and Jade would be just a memory. She harbored a secret, fond hope that one day Jade might just call her up out of the blue, and say 'Hey, Vega, let's do lunch'. But then she also dreamed about owning a pony, and getting her driver's license, and of the three, she'd be driving a pick-up and towing a horse-box long before she'd be sat at a table watching delicate black-polished nails push silver cutlery across white linen.

And then Jade's text had arrived. She'd looked up, excited, hoping to catch someone's eye and share the moment, but all she saw was Beck pull his phone from his pocket, glance at it, and put it away, grinning at Andre over the shoulder of the drunken girl in his arms. And she felt a sense of anger, of injustice. Lately he'd got it into his head that he could have Jade back any time he wanted, just tilt his head with that stupid look on his face and she'd come running, but he couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge her message. And it burned her to see Jade dismissed like that, with a wink and a shrug, as though her friendship didn't matter, to see a gift she'd treasure treated so cheaply by the one person it had ever been given to.

And it was then that she realized what she'd been chasing all this time, why she felt this overwhelming protectiveness towards the girl who'd both shut her out and let her in, why the thought of Jade sat, alone and unwanted, made her chest hurt and her stomach churn. So she picked up her phone, and she grabbed her coat, and she screwed up her courage and swallowed her doubts. A fool's errand, but there was something in the air tonight, something different. She shouldered her way through the crowd and out into the cold of the night.

.

.

.

She turned, and closed the door. "You want to know why I came?" she said. Her voice was soft, distant, but the sudden hush as the wind dropped made it echo in the silence. She pressed a finger to the other girl's lips.

.

"Because I made a resolution, too."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Well, I think we can all guess what Tori's resolution is, and it's nothing to do with starting a chicken soup delivery service. Anyway, there you go, let me know if you want any more. Otherwise, bye for now.