The Trouble With Christmas Read online

  Dad tipped his head to the side. “Yes, but what do you do that’s unique to your family?”

  Evan set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “Nothing, really.” He shrugged, sounding disappointed. “Unfortunately, my parents aren’t big into holidays.” Dad’s expression held a mix of pain and horror. Evan rushed on, “But I love how everyone in your town goes all out. Main Street looks awesome. I wish we made a bigger deal about it at home. I’ve always wanted to have the kind of Christmas you’d see on TV.”

  Mom clapped her hands together. “I think we can help you with that. There’s no better holiday destination than Rudolph. We have so much Christmas spirit you’ll forget you aren’t at the North Pole.” She paused to chuckle. “Or you’ll wish you were there.”

  Evan’s eyes sparkled with mischief when he looked directly at me and said, “Well, then, I’m glad I came. Seems like spending time with all of you is just what I need.”

  Sheesh! If that wasn’t flirting, I didn’t know what was. Clearly, Nate agreed; his eyebrows crunched together, and his smirk became more of a scowl. My brother didn’t catch on. He was sitting at the end of the table and reached out to punch his roommate in the arm. “Kelly Blaser’s Christmas party is just what you need. Mistletoe in every doorway.” He childishly raised his eyebrows up and down. Evan winked at me.

  “Garland.” Mom gasped, always the prude.

  Dad grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “’Tis the season, Joy.” She blushed. “Besides, I’m sure Garland intends to show Evan all that Rudolph has to offer—not just Kelly Blaser’s party.” Dad gave him a stern face.

  “Of course.” Garland huffed, pretending to be offended.

  There was a momentary lull before Evan turned back to me and asked, “What’s your favorite Christmas activity?”

  Nate, who’d been unusually quiet, snorted loudly. “Chrissy doesn’t have a favorite Christmas activity.” I gave him a look that said shut up, but he brushed it off, so I kicked him in the shin. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and sucked in an angry breath through his nose.

  I plastered on a smile. “What Nate means is that I couldn’t possibly pick a favorite activity, because I love them all.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows at the same time Dad squinted in confusion. “Hah!” Garland chortled. “She’s full of it. Chrissy hates Christmas.”

  “You hate Christmas?” Evan asked. His frown shamed me. I thought we’d made a connection earlier, and those three little words were about to kill it. I did what any girl would do in my situation. I freaked out.

  “No! I don’t hate it.” It was a blatant lie, but I had to say it. I had no choice. Evan was excited for the Rudolph experience. If I wanted to spend any time with the guy, I’d have to convince him I could hang with the rest of the eggnog heads around here.

  “Hmpfh.” Nate grunted.

  “The caroling, the decorations, frosting cookies...what’s not to like?” My words came out strangled. I could tell Nate was irritated, so it was no surprise that he fed off my distress.

  “She especially loves all those cutesy Christmas movies,” he said, sounding smarmy. I flared my nostrils, then chugged my sparkling punch to hide my annoyance. Nate responded with a wicked grin. “But her very favorite thing is the Yuletide Pageant. Every year she tells me how badly she wants to enter.”

  I almost choked. Garland roared with laughter. “Chrissy? In the pageant? I’d eat my dirty socks to see that.”

  There was no backtracking now. I took his story and ran with it. “It’s true. I always think about competing, but I’d have an unfair advantage. You know, with my father being mayor and all.” Evan seemed to buy it, but Nate and Garland knew it was a load of crap. My dad analyzed me with skeptical scrutiny, unsure what to think.

  “Chrissy, why didn’t you ever tell me you wanted to enter?” Mom asked. She’d always wished I was more into the Christmas stuff. Her expression held a newfound hope. Oh man, I was going straight to Hell when I died. And I was dragging Nate with me.

  “Oh, er…um…” I stammered for a second before I produced real words. “I figured it’d be pointless to say something.”

  Garland raised a linen napkin to his mouth and coughed into it. “Liar.” The word was muffled but still understandable.

  “What’s the Yuletide Pageant?” Evan finally interrupted. “Is it like a beauty pageant?”

  “It’s a glorified craft fair,” Garland quipped.

  “No.” Dad suddenly forgot that I was fibbing through my teeth and glared at Garland. The current version of the pageant was Dad’s brainchild. Talking about it always made him passionate. “It started out like a beauty pageant, but now it’s so much more than that.” Mom got up to serve dessert, and I settled in for what could be a long lecture. You never knew with Dad.

  “A decorating challenge is issued at noon on December 21. The contestants have until 7 p.m. to complete their projects and get them to the high school, where they’ll be set out for the whole town to see. Everything is displayed anonymously to keep decisions unbiased. There are four judges on the panel, and the fifth vote goes to the crowd. Anyone can fill out a ballot to vote for their favorite piece.

  “At eight o’clock, the votes are tallied and the judges announce who moves on to the next round. The same process is repeated on the twenty-second and twenty-third, until the contestant pool is whittled down to the top ten. Then, on Christmas Eve, we have a traditional pageant where all the finalists put on their Christmas best and walk the runway.” Evan nodded his head. He was hanging onto Dad’s every word. I tuned them out and dug into my pecan pie.

  “For the final portion of the event, the contestants are asked to answer a question about what Christmas means to them. Everyone’s question is different, so they have to think on their feet. The judges vote one last time—with a tie-breaker going to the audience—and as mayor, I get the honor of crowning our new Queen or King of Christmas.”

  “Sounds cool,” Evan said, when he finally got a word in edgewise. I took a relieved breath. That could have been much worse. Evan turned to my mom and asked, “Have you ever been the Christmas Queen?”

  “Oh, no,” she replied bashfully. “I’m too busy helping Roger behind the scenes.”

  Evan sent her an easy smile. “Well, I think you should enter. Based on how your home looks, I’m sure you’d win.”

  “Hush, now.” Mom’s cheeks grew rosy. Evan was quite the charmer.

  “What about you?” He grinned at Garland, who gave him a disgusted expression.

  “Dude, that stuff’s for chicks.”

  “It is not,” Dad interjected. “Sebastian Wickham won last year.”

  “I rest my case,” Garland mumbled under his breath.

  I was ready to bang my head against the giant poinsettia printed on the tablecloth in front of me. I’d had my fill of Christmas talk. Holding up my hands, I spoke over everyone. “Too bad the entry deadline was today. Guess I’ll have to wait until next year.”

  “You still have until midnight,” Nate corrected with a silent snicker. I kicked him again, then stood and started clearing the table.

  Garland took Evan upstairs to get him settled in the guest room. Nate helped me with the dishes. Mom hummed “Winter Wonderland” while she fluttered around the kitchen putting food away. When she finished, she untied her frilly apron—which eerily resembled a tree skirt—folded it neatly, and tucked it in a drawer. I waited until she was gone before I laid into Nate.

  “You’re such a jerk!” I whisper-yelled through gritted teeth.

  Nate was scrubbing the gravy pot with more force than necessary. “Maybe, but it’s better than being a fraud.”

  I swiped the pot from his hands and shoved it in the dishwasher. “I’m not a fraud.”

  I was totally a fraud.

  He snorted. “What do you call pretending to like something you detest just to impress a guy? One who, by the way, isn’t that good looking
. The drooling was completely unnecessary.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and taunted, “Sounds like somebody’s jealous.”

  Nate dropped the bowl he was washing, and it clanked loudly in the sink. Wiping his soapy hands on his jeans, he said, “You know what? I just remembered I have stuff to do. Have fun decking the halls with your new boyfriend.” Then he stormed out of the kitchen. The jingle bells on the wreath rattled when he opened and shut the front door.

  I picked up the bowl Nate dropped and continued to grumble as if he were still there. “Why do you care if I pretend to like Christmas? You’re always on my case to have a better attitude. Now that I do, you’re going to complain about it? And so what if I think Evan’s hot? I’m allowed to like guys. Or kiss them under the mistletoe at Kelly Blaser’s party...”

  “Who you talking to, little sis?” Garland snuck up behind me, and I jumped. “The ghost of Christmas crazy? What’s wrong, you and Nate have a lover’s quarrel?”

  “Shut up, idiot.”

  “He’s not going to like it if you keep acting like a lying little liar that lies.”

  “A what?” I spun around and met his evil smirk. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

  “Oh, but I think you do. And I think you’ve got a thing for my roommate.”

  I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, trying to escape my annoying brother. But he followed me straight into my bedroom. “Get out.” I pointed my finger toward the hallway.

  Garland’s grin widened. Getting under my skin was a favorite hobby of his. He backed away, fully aware that it didn’t take long for me to resort to violence. “Fine. But for the record, I think he’s into you.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Who’s into me?”

  “Now that is the million-dollar question.” My brother shut the door without elaborating, and I plopped onto my bed.

  Nate was right; it’s lame that I lied. But he shouldn’t have called me out like that. And he only made matters worse with his embellishments. My favorite part of Christmas is the pageant? Please. He could have at least gone with something believable.

  I knew I should call Nate and apologize. But he’d need at least a couple hours to cool off. And deep down, there was a part of me that didn’t want to apologize. Why should I have to say sorry for creating common ground between me and my brother’s unrealistically good-looking roommate? I wasn’t going to find a quality guy like that here in Rudolph. The town was small enough that I’d already gone out with any of the boys who were worth dating. Even Nate and I went out for two weeks in the seventh grade. It was awkward and weird, so we broke up and vowed never to speak of it again.

  There was a knock on my door. “Yeah?” I answered apathetically.

  Dad poked his head in. “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  He studied me for a moment before asking, “What happened at dinner? I won’t pretend to understand the innerworkings of the teenage brain, but I do know when something’s off. And something is definitely off. Did you mean what you said?”

  A pang of guilt shot through me. But I was stubborn, so I refused to acknowledge it. I went with playing dumb instead. “What are you talking about?”

  “About secretly liking Christmas.”

  I contemplated lying again, but that would only make things worse, so I took the high road for once tonight and told the truth. “No, I didn’t mean it.”

  Dad frowned. “That’s what I thought. But why pretend? For a few minutes there, you had your mother thinking that all of her Christmas wishes had finally come true.” Oh man, that was a stab to the gut. Now I had to acknowledge the guilt. It was settling in my stomach like a slice of week-old fruitcake.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, trying to skirt the real reason.

  Unfortunately, Dad’s no dummy. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Is the attitude adjustment because of Evan? Are you trying to impress him?”

  “Psh, no! What? No…I would never…” I emphatically denied the accusation, because when he said it like that, I kind of sounded desperate and pathetic. My incoherent response did little to prove otherwise.

  “Well, good. The Chrissy Jensen I know, the one who makes it a point to boycott Christmas—in a place nicknamed Christmas Town USA, for heaven’s sake—would never compromise her standards to make a boy like her.” Dad gave me a knowing smile and added, “Even if that boy is sweet and charming and very handsome.”

  My jaw dropped in shock. “Eww! Gross, Dad.”

  He chuckled as he held up his hands. “Those are your mother’s words, not mine.” I wrinkled my nose. That was only slightly better. Dad started to close the door but paused. “Do I need to hammer some two by fours over your door? Make a barricade so certain houseguests don’t get any funny ideas about what’s appropriate behavior around my daughter?”

  I shivered violently and slammed my hands over my ears. “Oh my gosh, stop! I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask that. Seriously, I think I’m going to barf.”

  “Just remember,” Dad started singing, “I see you when you’re sleeping, I know when you’re awake, I know if you’ve been bad or good—” I picked up my pillow and threw it at him as hard as I could. He laughed and shut the door, but two seconds later he opened it again. “And Chrissy, don’t wait too long to call Nate. I think you owe him the apology on this one.”

  The door shut for good, leaving me to ponder whether he was right. After all, Nate’s the one who stormed out tonight. He was being a big, fat baby. He had no reason to get his undies all twisted up. Unless you counted the fact that he thinks I ruin Christmas.

  Yes, Nate’s into the fanfare just like everyone else in this cuckoo town. The pomp, the hype, the grandiose displays. He even likes the pageant. He drags me along every year, and I complain the entire time. Besides watching Die Hard, it’s my only Christmas tradition.

  My best friend is the Bob Cratchit to my Ebenezer Scrooge, the Cindy Lou Who to my Grinch. He’s the Clark Griswold to my Margo Chester. The fact that I even know that reference means I don’t ruin as much as he thinks I do.

  We’re yin and yang when it comes to Christmas, and much like my mother, he’s always wished we weren’t. But that’s how it’s supposed to work. We balance each other. Nate should be grateful that I accidentally jumped on the holiday party train tonight. Even if it was just for pretend…and to impress a boy. The point is, I’m finally giving him what he wants.

  I laid on my bed for the next hour, reasoning until I justified myself to sleep—without calling to say I was sorry.

  I walked into the kitchen and found Evan sitting at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of cereal. “Good morning,” he said in a chipper voice. He was freshly showered and dressed, even though it was only eight o’clock. Great, he’s a Christmas person and a morning person. Our lack of commonalities put two strikes against me.

  I cleared the gravel out of my voice. “Morning. Where’s Garland?”

  Evan grinned. “Still asleep. Your mom walked by while I was brushing my teeth and offered to make me breakfast.”

  My eyebrow hitched and I nodded toward his bowl. “And that’s what she made you?”

  “No.” He gave me a hearty laugh. “She wanted to make me peppermint crepes, but I insisted that it was unnecessary.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like my mom. It’s probably good you refused.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t lurking in the shadows. Then I walked to the cupboard to fetch my own bowl. “She’s a great cook, but peppermint does not go well with crepes.”

  “I wondered.” Evan mused with a chuckle. I poured myself a bowl, and he patted the barstool next to him. I took a seat. “Do you have any big plans for the day?” he asked.

  “Hmmm.” I pretended to think. “Not unless you count lounging around and watching television.”

  I’d just taken a huge bite of cereal when he said, “Sounds like fun. Mind if I join you?” My heartbeat quickened
and my stomach fluttered. I was lucky my mouth was full. It forced me to stay calm and kept me from saying something dumb.

  I took my time chewing and swallowing before I casually replied, “Don’t you and Garland have plans?”

  Evan shrugged, then raised the bowl to his mouth to drink his milk, which I found adorable. When he finished, he set the bowl on the counter and said, “Probably. But a) he’s not awake yet, and b) he’s not as cute as you are.”

  Suddenly, the room felt very warm. My cheeks flushed. “True on both counts,” I joked.

  We made more small talk until I finished my own breakfast. Evan followed me to the sink and set his bowl down next to mine. “You ready?” he asked.

  No, I was not ready. I had hideous morning breath and could feel a giant bird’s nest in my hair. I probably shouldn’t have eaten breakfast so close to him. “Yeah, just give me a minute. I need to brush my teeth. Go ahead and pick something to watch. The remote should be on the shelf next to the TV.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up and a dimple appeared. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  I had no response that wouldn’t sound dopey, so I grinned and bolted up the stairs. But seeing my reflection in the bathroom mirror made me cringe. I forgot to wash my face before I fell asleep last night. Mascara residue ringed my lashes, adding racoon eyes to the list of reasons I should shower before going back downstairs. I know Evan said to be quick, but an extra five minutes would be worth it.

  I turned on the shower, got undressed, and jumped in, yelping as the cold water pelted my back. My legs had been smooth two seconds ago, but goose bumps made them grow prickly in an instant. I didn’t have time to wait for the water to get warm. I stuck my head under the spray and shivered as I set a personal record for fastest shower ever—in and out in under three minutes. And that included washing my hair.

  I threw on some cute jeans and a thermal shirt, pulled my long, brown hair into a braid, and slipped fuzzy socks over my feet. When I finally got back to the couch, Evan looked up at me with surprise. “I thought you were just brushing your teeth?” he asked.