Page 9 of Cross Check Christmas
"This isn't funny, Hendrix! The pageant's in less than three weeks and now I have no money for costumes or sets. But I suppose you think that's hilarious, don't you? Just like you thought it was hilarious to put rubber chickens in my locker senior year."
"That was one time!" I protest. "And in my defense, you looked really cute when you screamed."
"You haven't changed at all, have you? Everything's still just one big joke to you!"
"Come on, Professor. You know that's not true." I grab my water bottle, trying to hide my grin. "Sometimes things are two jokes."
She makes this sound like a kettle about to blow, spinning on her heel and marching back across the ice. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Ellis, I have a pageant to salvage with approximately zero dollars."
"Careful, it's slip-" Too late. Her heel catches a rough patch and she windmills backward.
Thank God for hockey reflexes. I catch her before she hits the ice, and suddenly I've got an armful of my high school crush.
4
COLETTE
Iplop another donation box onto the folding table with more force than necessary, making Daisy jump. The cardboard screams "Toys for Tots" in my precise handwriting, just one of many booths fighting for attention at the Christmas fair in town square.
"I mean, who schedules a surprise hockey practice during my rehearsal time?" I reorganize the already perfectly arranged stuffed animals.
Daisy arranges candy canes in a festive display, her Christmas sweater twinkling with built-in lights. "Did you talk to him about it?"
"To who?" I know exactly who she means.
"The temporary coach with the million-dollar smile who's been living rent-free in your head since high school?"
"He has not been—" I stop myself, cheeks burning. "And no, I didn't talk to him.”
Every time I see him, my brain short-circuits and I start thinking about stupid things like how his eyes crinkle when he laughs or how his stupid hockey jersey fits his shoulders and—" I grab a donated teddy bear and squeeze it. "I hate him."
Daisy plucks the bear from my arms and drops it in the donation box. “Honey, that's not hate you're feeling."
"It absolutely is. He's sabotaging my pageant just like he used to sabotage my book presentations with his ridiculous commentary.”
"That was kind of funny?—"
"Daisy! Five of my leads missed crucial blocking. Mary almost dropped baby Jesus."
"So tell him to back off."
"I can't just—“ My words cut short as Hendrix Ellis strides across the town square, high-fiving some kids by the hot chocolate stand. His presence commands attention like it always has, but now there's this infuriating mature confidence about him. The leather jacket doesn't help.
"Earth to Colette?" Daisy waves a candy cane in front of my face. "You were saying?"
I snap my gaze back to the donation boxes. "It's not worth confronting him. He'd probably just make some stupid joke about how I need to 'chill out' or whatever ridiculous pun he can think of."
"Uh huh." Daisy's knowing smirk makes me want to hide behind the Christmas tree. "Nothing to do with those dimples or that jawline?"
"His jawline is irrelevant." I busy myself organizing already-organized toys. "And completely average. At best."
"Look," she says, placing both hands on my shoulders. "You need to stand up for yourself. March right up to that smirking face of his and tell him what’s what. Don't let some hotshot hockey player think he can just do whatever he wants—even if there is a bronze statue of his dad in front of the hockey museum."
I straighten my spine. She's right. I've spent years trying to prove myself as a serious educator. I'm not about to let Hendrix Ellis and his perfect smile derail my Christmas pageant.
"You're right. First thing Monday morning, I'm going to march right up to him and?—"
"And?"
