Page 170 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Yeah? You’re just going to answer that so casually? Dude, you look like a leopard under there.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that extreme.”
“Cole, that is a lot of marks.”
Smirking, I make eye contact with my friend. “You should see her.”
“I don’t even want to know,” he says as he changes into his shirt as well. “I’m starting to get jealous, and I don’t need to feel jealous about your sex life.”
“Why not?” I finish buttoning the top of my shirt and then put on the jingle bell necklace.
“Because I have enough going on with this Kringle competition. Idon’t need to be wishing I had a sex life to go with it. Someone has to be the backbone of this operation, and clearly that person is not you since your head has been in the clouds.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I actually can’t. I’m more than willing to be the backbone because I can see my friend returning, and that’s what matters to me most.”
“Max, you getting emotional on me?”
“I mean, I’m not crying if that’s what you’re leading to.”
“I don’t know. I think I can see a tear.”
“There are no tears, and even if there were, I’d embrace it. Hell, want me to squeeze one out right now? Give me a second.” He comically attempts to bulge his eye out of its socket and force himself to cry.
“Can you not do that? It’s creepy as fuck.”
“You’re the one who wants to see tears.” He gets in a squatting position now, hands on his legs, his ass jutted out, his face straining. “I’m going to give you tears.”
“Jesus Christ.” I swat at him. “Stop that. You’re going to burst something.”
“Yeah, burst into tears,” he says, still straining.
“Stop it.” I push at his face and force him back on the couch. “I don’t need you tearing up. Lord knows you’ll cry enough when we’re performing later.”
“Can you blame me?” he says. “What we have planned is going to knock the apron and hairnet right off crotchety old Karen back on the grill. And the town votes on these performances. The town knows you, so this is in the bag.” I shrug, and I can tell he’s not happy with that response because he says, “What the hell happened to you? Where’s the competitive spirit? When you started this competition, you were ready to wield a candy cane like a sword and stab anyone who came near you. Now you’re…you’re soft.”
“I still want to win, but, yeah, maybe I’ve softened. Maybe it isn’t about the competition as much as doing something I would never have thought to do a few months ago. Maybe it’s about growth. Maybe it’s about coming out of my shell and letting myself live again. Enjoy the season…and honor my parents.”
Max slowly nods. “I couldn’t agree more.” He pauses and places his hand on my shoulder again. “But we should win while accomplishing all those other things.”
I chuckle and place the Santa hat on my head while Max straps on his beard. “Yes…we should win while accomplishing all those things.”
“Atta boy.” Max slaps me on the back. “Now let’s go blow this competition wide open.”
Storee
“I’m going to puke,” I say to Taran as I clasp my shaky hands together. “I can’t do this.”
“Stop that,” Taran whispers in my ear. “It’s all in your head. Nothing will happen other than you rocking this competition, and doing it with pizzazz.”
“I don’t feel very pizzazz-y right now,” I mutter back as I glance up at the Caroling Café stage where Beatrice Pedigree is currently singing “Little Drummer Boy” like Angela fromThe Office. I don’t think she planned on doing a spoof from the popular Christmas episode—I just think this was the approach she took with her performance. It’s stiff, people are bored, and I worry she might get booed.
“Do you need me to show you the video of the routine again?” she asks, pulling out her phone.
“For the love of God, no. That makes it worse,” I say. “We need to finda way out of this. Like…pull a fire alarm, shout ‘rat,’ or even faint. Maybe I should faint. How do we feel about fainting?”
“You’re not going to faint. You’re not pulling a fire alarm. And you’re not shouting ‘rat.’ You will get up on that stage and perform the routine like we practiced.”
