Page 106 of Holiday Friend Zones
Something About Yule
BY GIA STEVENS
ONE
Crooked Is Always Crooked
Lauren
How did I miss it?The banner is crooked.Painfully crooked.The kind of crooked that laughs in your face once you’ve noticed it, because now you’llalwaysnotice it.My nose scrunches.It’s the grand unveiling of the Holly Jolly Festival banner, and the only thing anyone will remember is how it looks like it pulled an all-nighter with spiked eggnog.I can practically hear the whispers already.Look, the new assistant can’t even hang a banner straight.Bless her heart.Should we fire her before or after the cocoa tasting?Ugh.Crooked banners are my villain origin story.
I’m the newly appointed Holly Jolly Festival assistant coordinator.This is supposed to be my big break, the job that pulls me out of the spiral of five years of slogging through a soul-sucking corporate office an hour away.The second the job was posted, I applied.Zero commute.It was perfect.Well, perfect except for the part where my first task might get me laughed off the town square.
“Lauren.”Mrs.Hillman’s voice slices through my spiraling.
I jolt.“Huh?”
“The crowd’s getting anxious.”
“Right.”I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, the crowd of Holly Jolly Festival volunteers are all standing in front of the homemade stage, waiting for direction.My gaze flicks between the crooked banner and the ladder leaning against the cocoa stand.I could fix it in two seconds—well, maybe ten.They’ve waited this long, what’s a few more?Mrs.Hillman clears her throat.I press my lips together and huff.Fine!I’ll just have to fix it afterward since everyone is so impatient.
Spinning on my heel, I plaster on my most responsible-in-charge smile.“Attention, everyone!”I wave one arm like I’m flagging down a snowplow.Nothing.The chatter continues.“Excuse me!”
Still nothing.
Fine.They asked for this.I whip my emergency air horn out of my pocket—yes, I carry one; no, it’s not weird—and give it a satisfyingtoot.The hush is instant and glorious.
“Thank you,” I chirp.“Now.As you know, we’re heading into the busiest week of the year, which means early mornings, late nights, and?—”
A hand in the middle of the crowd shoots up.Jack, the town’s mailman.“We’re volunteers.There’s no overtime.”
“Exactly,” I say smoothly.“You’re priceless.Million-dollar volunteers.The best of the best, and we couldn’t do this without you.As you know, I’m here to assist Brie in making sure the Holly Jolly Festival runs smoother than Santa’s sleigh on fresh powder.First order of business…” With my clipboard in hand, I thumb through the color-coded tabs like I’m running a Fortune 500 company instead of a small-town Christmas event.“We’ll separate you into groups with a designated group leader.If you want to volunteer to decorate the Holly Jolly Festival tree, stand to my left.”I wave my hand to the side.“I’ll also need a group to move tables and linens into the cookie decorating hut.If that tickles your Christmas fancy, stand to my right.And in the center, I need giant candy canes, reindeer, and snowmen wranglers.”
Over the next several minutes, everyone moves about to their designated groups.“Great,” I say, clapping.“Now, can I get a ‘Holly Jolly Festival’ on three?One!Two!Three!”
A scattered mumble floats back at me.
I squint.“That sounded like ‘Molly Olly Estival,’ which is… not a thing.Let’s try again, with actual joy in your hearts.One, two, three!”
“HOLLY JOLLY FESTIVAL!”
Much better.Almost.When I turn back toward the stage, the crooked banner is still there.Mocking me.Taunting me like an ex at a wedding.
“Do you think the banner looks crooked?”I hiss at Mrs.Hillman as she walks by.“A little droopy on the left?”
She gives it a passing glance.“Looks fine to me.”
Fine?Perhaps she needs to get her eyes checked.
“I’m fixing it,” I mutter.
I snatch the ladder from the cocoa stand, plant it in the snow, and start climbing.Step one, fine.Step two, creak.By step four, the ladder’s wobbling like Bambi on ice.At the last step, I stretch onto my tippy toes, the ladder teetering beneath me.My fingers brush against the rough fibers of the rope securing one corner of the banner.An icy gust of wind swirls around me, causing my stiff fingers to play a clumsy waltz with the rope.
“Hey Lo, what are you doing?”
Eli’s voice hits me like a snowball to the ribs.The ladder rocks.I rock.My foot slips on the step, and the world tips sideways.My life flashes before my eyes.
“Lauren!”
