Page 198 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
They threw up their hands and hoped with a prayer.
The stocking was lacking, the cards were askew.
Beatrice skipped red and green, and opted for blue.
Who did it? Who won? Who proved to be the best?
Cindy bounced for results in her Christmassy vest.
Storee
I have never in my life felt so much adrenaline as I did in that last hour and a half.
Holy.
Crap.
I stand next to Cole, our items placed on the judging tables, perusing gazes taking in every last detail and every last flaw.
My wrapping was good but looked to be on par with everyone else’s.
My card was a beautiful depiction of a winter day in the country, and I even used some fabric to add texture.
And my stocking…well, it was looking really good until I sewed it too close to the edge and the felt tore.
I could hear Taran’s groan from across the gym when it happened.
And sure, I might have glanced toward Cole right before it happened because I was impressed by the way he was sewing like a fiend, so perhaps I was a touch distracted. I attempted to cover it up with a patch, but I’m not sure how the judges will take it.
Beatrice struggled. And her theme of blue and silver, although nice, doesn’t really speak to Bob Krampus, a traditional red, green, and white man through and through. I mean, I even know that at this point.
Ursula excelled in her wrapping. She did some weird technique that I’ve only ever seen done on Instagram. Those people who record themselves wrapping presents for a living? Well, she channeled them and did some double-fold technique that came out beautifully. Her card though? Average. And her stocking was a glued disaster—and I won’t even mention the glue in her hair.
Then there’s Jimmy, the threat I never saw coming. He grunted and groaned and was the most vocal of the group, but looking at what he put out on the table, I’m both worried and impressed.
He and Cole both seem to be the dark horses in today’s competition.
And the intricate, embroidered stocking…the fact that he sewed that in the time that we had. How, is the question…just how?
“Well,” Bob says as he speaks into the mic. “Can we please give our Kringle-ees a round of applause?” The crowd erupts, and I feel chills spread down my arms. Even though it was hard and there were times when I wanted to just stop what I was doing and cry, I have to admit I’m proud of myself, because I did it.
Bob gives a speech about everything we’ve gone through the last few weeks, and after what feels like several minutes, he clears his throat, ready to report the results. I want to grab Cole’s hand badly. I want to tell him that no matter what, I’m proud of us. But I keep still as I stare out at the crowd.
“In fifth place, with her blue theme, is Beatrice Pedigree.”
Yup, we all saw that coming.
“Coming in fourth…” Bob looks up at us, making eye contact with me, and I feel my heart sink. Then he says, “Ursula Kronk.”
Wow, okay, that was mean—not very Santa-y if you ask me.
“And this is where the judges struggled,” Bob continues. “We wentback and forth because there were aspects of everyone’s entries that we enjoyed, so we had to turn to the flaws.”
Shit.
“Coming in third…Storee Taylor.”
Fuck!
