Page 202 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
I sit up in bed, remembering the footprints in the snow leading from Aunt Cindy’s house to his.
And the bruise on her neck. That was…that was a hickey.
I pound my fist into the pillow. All those strolls into town, all that wasted time…she must have been spending it with him.
Of course that’s what she was doing. How could I have been so dumb? So naïve?
They’ve been seeing each other and…
I pause, my mind racing some more.
Hold on.
He’s…he’s in first place. Contest after contest, he’s been getting better and better, running away with the points and making it pretty damn hard for anyone to catch up to him. And how convenient that his biggest competition has slowly been taking the fall when she started out in first.
I reach for my notebook on the nightstand and flip through the notes I’ve been taking. It was right after the Fruitcake Festivus that things started to go downhill. The next competition was candy cane making, and that’s when she fell to third. He “helped” her in that competition. Why would he do that if he wasn’t trying to prove something? Trying to…trying to sabotage her!
He knew she’d lose points for getting help from another competitor, and she did. But she looked grateful. Happy that he was there to help her. From there, she never edged past third, and that’s when she started to disappear more. That’s when they were spending more time together.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed as I grip my forehead.
How could I have been so dumb?
How could I have let this happen?
He took advantage of her.
He must have known she crushed on him back when we were young and used that to his advantage. And he wasn’t even shy about the way he used her. He said their fake relationship was for the town, would help both of them in the competition, but somewhere along the way, he kept it fake, and she…she fell for him.
I stand from the bed now and go to my window, where I open the curtain and stare at his house, covered in those garish green lights.
How dare he!
How dare he mess with her!
How dare he mess with Aunt Cindy’s chance at the title!
I can’t allow that to happen.
Something needs to be done.
And I know exactly what to do.
So she strapped on her boots and her coat colored tan,
with one thing in mind: I will destroy this man.
Then she loaded up her pockets with a hammer and pliers,
and took to his house, ready to mess with his wires.
She stalked through the snow, empty bags in her fist.
“He’ll regret ever messing with her,” she hissed.
Then she propped up a ladder, alone and in the dark.
In the distance, a rowdy dog let out an ear-splitting bark.
