Page 25 of Rebel Without a Claus
Still, I can’t stop watching her out of the corner of my eye. The way she smiles at kids as they pass by. How she concentrates, brow furrowed, lip caught between her teeth. There’s something about her that unsettles me—soft and real and so damned open.
She doesn’t belong in my world. And yet here she is, right smack dab in the middle of it.
Somewhere behind us, music starts up—an old swing version of "Deck the Halls"—and a few people begin dancing between the tables. More sugar-fueled chaos. More joy. It should make me want to bolt, but tonight… it’s almost bearable.
The only reason has to be the woman to my right.
Eve leans back to admire her house, arms crossed proudly. “Nailed it.”
I glance over. “Gotta admit, it does look good.”
“Yours is…” she trails off, trying not to laugh.
“Don’t say it,” I warn.
“Charming in a… post-apocalyptic way.”
“Sweet of you,” I grumble. But I let the corner of my mouth lift. Just a little.
As the judging time approaches, I notice the crowd starting to gather around her table. People whisper about how good it looks. Kids ask their parents if they can copy it. And something inside me shifts.
I look at my own house. It’s passable now—thanks to Eve and her tip to keep my frosting cold.
Actually, it’s more than passable. I was able to repair the cracks in my foundation and hide them with Red Vines and M&Ms. There’s no way I could win this contest, but I could maybe take second place.
Pam walks by and eyes me, then Eve. “Well, well, well, look who decided to show. The grinch himself is building a gingerbread house.”
But then I glance back at Eve, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with hope and smiling beside her finished house as people take pictures of her with it.
Shewantsthis.
Badly.
And suddenly, I don’t. I don’t want to come anywhere near stealing her thunder.
I pick up a candy cane and snap it in half. Stick it in at a weird angle so it looks like a chimney fell off. I glob frosting on the door like it was installed by someone who’s never seen a door before. Then I go full tilt: gummy worms on the roof, sprinkles tossed like confetti, two gummy bears fighting in the front yard and I tear another in half, laying it dead at their feet.
“Uh…” Eve watches me with wide eyes. “What… exactly are you doing?”
“Art,” I say solemnly.
“Are those bears… fistfighting?”
I nod. “A snowball fight gone wrong.”
Horrified, she points at the mauled bear at their feet. “And did they murder this one?”
I lick my dry lips, wondering how I’m gonna talk myself out of this one. “Conflict adds narrative tension.”
She stares at me for a beat, then bursts out laughing. The sound knocks the wind out of me.
“You’re the weirdest man I’ve ever met,” she says.
“Thank you,” I reply, deadpan.
But inside, I feel something warm flicker.
She’s still laughing when the judges do their rounds, pausing at my house, fully perplexed.
