Page 41 of A Very Naughty Christmas

Her hand flew to her mouth in utter disbelief as this new voice, one she recognized as belonging to Charlie Ensor, joined in the discussion. Charlie was Spencer Hicks’ best friend.

Suddenly, the vaguely familiar voice that continued to talk about her body and all the things he allegedly had done to it lost its ambiguity. It was Spencer and every word he spoke was untrue. They’d had a date this past Saturday to the homecoming dance, but other than a few dances and a brief kiss good night, he hadn’t touched her. Now, the jerk had the nerve—and sheer stupidity—to stand around the corner from her locker and make up filthy lies about her to entertain his friends.

Furious, she shoved her bag into her locker, ready to take them all on.

“But Spencer here said he was an ass man and that hers was fine. Isn’t that what you said, bud, only the other day? As an ass man, I thought you’d have gone there first.”

Like a fist to the gut, the air left her lungs in a whoosh, because she knew that voice without question. She ought to; she’d been surreptitiously listening to it since she was a freshman. It was Kyle Prescott. Her heart did a little pitter pat that he’d notice her ass at all, but on the heels of the weird exhilaration came bitter disappointment.

If this was how he acted out of earshot, she’d had him pegged all wrong. A boy talking about her ass, or any girl’s for that matter, or about boobs wasn’t surprising, not from any of the sex-obsessed boys in the school. But she’d put Kyle on a pedestal, high above the rest, and with this, he’d toppled from it.

“Kyle, my man, I can vouch that both her tits and ass are fine, but take it from me, her pussy will blow your mind.”

The air rushed from her lungs at the outrageous lie. Spencer had just told them she put out, which was the same as calling her a slut in front of who knows how many boys.

Someone said something else, but it was all white noise to her now. With an enraged squeal of anger, she rounded the corner. Six sets of eyes, wide with surprise, watched as she pushed through the group of jocks, all five foot four of her, to get to deceitful, two-faced snake-in-the-grass Spencer Hicks.

She weighed one hundred fifteen pounds soaking wet, but in her anger had the strength of two pissed-off women twice her size. When Jimmy Owens, middle linebacker for the Warhorses and voted All-District Defensive Team two years straight, didn’t move, she shouldered by him, taking some small satisfaction when he rocked on his heels.

The other guys quit grinning, and crimson heat stole into Charlie’sface as he left Spencer hanging mid-high five. Her jackass of a prom date looked ridiculous with his hand suspended in the air by his shoulder as, unlike his best bud, all color leached from his face. As she approached, Charlie stepped out of the way wisely, and with a shrewd move toward self-preservation, left him to face her wrath all alone.

She came to a stop nose to nose with the lead jerk in the bunch. Or rather, nose to chest because at six feet, he was a good eight inches taller than her. So she stood on her toes and got right in his face. As expected, his bravado shriveled in the face of her anger and he shrank back at least a foot. She wouldn’t allow the retreat, and followed.

“How dare you tell such bold-faced lies, you braying baboon!” Her insult was received by smothered laughter from his crew. Dixie thought this an appropriate slur since he was showing his hind end like one of the old-world monkeys and with his fair complexion, his face had turned a glowing crimson. She could only imagine the rest of him had followed suit and his big baboon’s ass was flushed bright red too.

“Now, Dixie, you must have misheard…”

“Don’t ‘now Dixie’ me. You’re nothing but a giant lie-spewing asshat.” She poked him in the chest, moving him another step. “I didn’t mishear you bragging to your friends about how you scored with me. Or did you forget,” she stuck out her arm and pointed to the nearby corner, “that my locker is ten feet from this very spot?”

His mouth hung open as more muffled laughter rose from behind her. She spun and faced them.

“Tell me something, boys. Does a sisterly peck equal a home run these days?” She spread her arms wide to indicate the group of senior jocks who were enjoying watching their friend squirm. “Surely with all your vast experience with women, you must know.”

Her focus locked on David Parker, the pimply-faced, skinny one who was also the team’s kicker. She didn’t know him other than by name, but he had to be the one with the squeaky voice. Her assumption was proved right when he said in his high-pitched cracking voice, “I gotta get to class.” And with his face as red as a fire hydrant, he practically ran down the hall.

She sent the remaining boys who had been surrounding Spencer, eating up every morsel of his ridiculous lies, a scathing glare. In her book, they were equally as guilty for standing there and egging on the ugly gossip, which had the potential for ruining her reputation. For a girl, beinglabeled promiscuous was devastating, but it would only elevate the rep of the pathetic boy who was spreading the whoppers to begin with. High school, like life, was unfair, but she refused to let this slide.

Dixie took a step back, once again addressing Spencer, but now facing the entire group.

“Why don’t you tell them the truth, Spence? That the only one who got close to first base Saturday night was me.”

Kyle laughed out loud and her eyes shot to him. Unlike the others, he didn’t wither beneath her icy stare. Of the bunch, he was the coolest, the smartest, and up until now, she’d thought him the nicest too. But her disappointment was beyond profound that he’d be a party to any of it.

She shifted her gaze to her victim, having turned the tables quite handily. He wasn’t spouting bull and bragging anymore. But then Spencer had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, and in a battle of wits, he came unarmed.

“Does it make you feel like a big man to crow about your sexual conquests? How about we tell your buds the real tale of your prowess, stud? In fact, I’ll break it down to jock speak so they all understand. Not only didn’t you make it to first base,” she poked him in the chest, rocking him back on his heels, “you were so tongue-tied from staring at my boobs all night, you struck out at the plate while looking.”

“Ooh,” came a low murmur from a few of the boys.

“And you were such a heart-throb, sweeping me off my feet, that I had to drive.” She gave him another poke and he moved again. “We went Dutch treat at dinner ‘cause you’re a cheapskate and are too lazy to get a part-time job.” Yet another poke and a bigger step; soon he’d be flush against the lockers and have no more room to retreat. “And, when I dropped you off—in my car—at your front door, it was me that kissed you on the cheek to thank you and say goodnight.”

This time both of her palms gave him a shove, the loud bang announcing clearly that he’d run out of real estate. She glared up at him, practically vibrating, she was so irate.

“Why’d you go out with him in the first place, Dix?” Kyle asked, grinning at her with a glint of appreciation. Well, he could forget it. That ship had sailed. Her crush on the all-state QB with a scholarship to play college ball was over. He had already been found guilty by association. If you could judge a person by the friends they kept, he was a loser like Spencer.

“Hell,” he added. “We’ve all been trying to figure it out for days. We know what he’s like. And we know you wouldn’t go there with him.”

“Hey!” Spencer protested.

---