AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If Rachel hadn’t left the party early, I’d pull her in for a quick sidebar. I could use one of her pep talks for reassurance. I don’t know what I’d do without her. We started our teaching careers together and have been thick as thieves ever since. But our tell-all chat will have to come later.
We’ll hash out every nitty-gritty detail and dissect it until there’s nothing left but an empty carton of ice cream and popcorn crumbs. Because that’s what besties do.
***
Iface the circle ofsingles, ready to duke it out for the best Dirty Santa gift. My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth like tumbleweeds clinging to cacti in a windy, arid desert. I'm parched, sweaty, and hopeful my voice won't crack under the pressure of all eyes on me. That drink Connor offered sounds good about now.
“We’ll start with number one. You get to pick from the pile first but won’t have the option to steal until last.” I nod to the woman with green tights and the ugliest holiday sweater I’ve ever seen.It’s perfect.“Player two. You have the option to choose a gift from the pile or steal her gift. We’ll continue in numerical order with the same options of choosing a wrapped gift or stealing an open gift.”
I wait an appropriate amount of time, ensuring no one has questions. I catch Connor's eye, and my insides light up like a Christmas tree. He's attentive with a relaxed, boyish grin that melts my insides. Tingly heat flutters through me, delicious and naughty. It should ramp up my nervousness, but focusing on him calms my performance anxiety instead.
“A gift can only be stolen three times. After that, it is considered dead and remains with that person. If your gift is stolen, you cannot steal it right back. Each person can only have a gift stolen from them three times. The game continues until all the gifts are open, and everyone has at least one chance to steal. Once that criteria is met, the game ends when someone decides to keep their gift rather than steal.”
I breathe, winded and ready to hang up my hostess hat.
The game begins with a flurry of wrapping paper littering the floor and guests oohing and aahing over each new unwrapped box. Stealing begins in earnest with squeals, laughter, and the occasional disgruntled groan. I keep a tally of each gift and the number of times it’s been stolen. Otherwise, we might be at this all night.
Guests battle it out for a breakfast sandwich maker, a battery-operated candle set, and assorted household gadgets. It’s all in good fun until a children’s building block set emerges with a popular cartoon musical theme. It’s all my after-school theater group talks about. The musical, not the toy.
“My niece is going to love this.” The woman who unwrapped it hugs it to her chest, excitement dotting her eyes with shimmering wetness. “It’s the only thing she asked Santa for this year.”
The man beside her eyes the boxed toy with eager anticipation.
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” The woman in seat four inhales and lets out a breathy sigh. You’d think Prince Charming just swept in with a glass slipper. “No one should steal that. It’s a true Santa gift. Can we call that one dead?”
The woman looks at me expectantly. My heart falls. It's much easier to explain rules to children in my class than to reason with impassioned adults.
“I think it’s best if we stick to the rules,” I say softly, yet firm in my conviction.
“A little empathy won’t hurt anyone.” The woman touts as she eyes the circle of singles. “Will it?”
The man with his eye on the newly unwrapped item rolls his eyes and picks a new gift from the pile. Appeasing the audience is a smart ploy, but I reserve my eye roll. It's a toy, and the game is about getting to know people.
I’m relieved when no one steals the musical building block set for three more turns. But everything changes on the next turn.
"I'll take the building block set." Several women gasp when Connor steals the item on his turn. A few mumble and grumble, but none more than the man who passed on stealing it first and the woman who insisted it shouldn't be stolen.
“Shame on you.” She waggles her finger like a ninety-two-year-old grandmother. She turns to me. “Are you going to do something about that or let him get away with this?”
My heart sinks. Why would Connor steal a gift that means so much to the woman? Why would he disrupt play and leave me in the hot seat? He turns the box over to read the back, oblivious to my anxious irritation.
“It’s still in play with two more opportunities to steal.” I swallow hard with all eyes on me. If it weren’t for game rules, things would be a free-for-all. “She’ll get another chance at it.”
Two more turns pass before someone dares to steal the toy set a second time. Connor forfeits the toy amicably.
“Serves you right.” The woman in seat number four lets out an audible harumph. She glares at Connor with a satisfied grin. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“It’sDirtySanta.” Connor’s smile doesn’t waver as he plucks a new gift from the pile. “It’s just a game.”
I don’t like where this is going. Loose strings knot around my gut and pull until they’re wound tight. I’d hoped Connor would at least be an ally. He’s stirring the pot instead, putting me in an uncomfortable position.
“You’re up next.” I nod to the next person in line. My voice trills unsteadily.
Someone needs to steal the gift so it can’t be stolen again or leave it alone. The less drama, the better. The nerves bubbling in my belly nearly make me ill with anxious worry. This is supposed to be fun, not riddled with catty remarks and sneers.
The woman’s snide comments suck the laughter and frivolity from the game. The block set stays put until it’s my turn. I go with my gut and steal the building block toy. Three steals, and it’s no longer relevant to play. I’ll trade gifts with the woman with the niece when the game ends.
I’m suddenly no longer parched or thirsty for drinks. Connor’s caused enough problems. He’ll probably lead me to heartbreak anyway.
