Page 23 of A Class of Her Own

A smile bloomed on my face, and I was reminded once again exactly why I’d chosen the group of friends I had.

Monday morning found me in the last place anyone wants to be—even as an adult: the principal’s office. Sure, it’s spelled with ‘pal’ on the end because you’re supposed to be tricked into thinking they’re your ally. But some things never change from childhood. He’s still the boss, he’s still a little stern, and you still leave feeling like you did something wrong. Maybe it’s just me. My friends didn’t seem to share the same feeling. They thought he was a great boss. I was used to having a different opinion, though, and wasn’t letting peer pressure cloud my judgment.

Regardless, I was sitting across the desk from John Wall after school when I was supposed to be enjoying Recap and Recoup with my friends. I found myself wishing Brooks had stepped a little harder on that scarf.

“Miss Atwood,” he began, offering me a smile. That’s another thing -- he never called me by my first name. He called my friends by their first names. With me, it was always so formal. “We’ve officially entered the holiday season, and this year the Parent Teacher Association would like to put on an evening of cookies and Santa for the families.”

He’d lost me as soon as he said PTA. Sure, they did great work and the school couldn’t run without them, but the keyword here waswork. Whenever I got roped in by the PTA, it was going to mean busting my chops and putting on a happy face about it. Another thing my friends didn’t agree with me on. They wholeheartedly supported the PTA, which made me wonder how I’d gotten called in.

“Is this a new thing?” I asked, for something to say. It seemed benign enough.

“Yes. This year. We’ll try it out, and if it’s successful, we’ll make it a new tradition.”

How special, I thought. I’d spent half my life trying not to hate the idea of Santa and the other half trying to pretend I thought it was good fun. The truth is that Santa is really painful for kids who learn early on not to expect him to come. Even more painful for kids trying to play Santa for their younger siblings. I was definitely not the right fit for whatever Mr. Wall had up his sleeves. I didn’t have much holiday spirit.

“We’d like you to head it up,” he stated, folding his hands over his stomach.

I smacked my lips together. “I see.”

“Is that something you can do? We’ll let you select a committee from the staff, and, of course, there are some members of the PTA to assist as well.”

Oh, they’dletme. How kind. “I think it’s only fair I warn you that I have an extreme aversion to the fat man in red.”

Mr. Wall ran his tongue over his teeth, making his lips pop out. “You’re telling me you don’t like Santa?” Obviously his tone was one of disbelief. Nobody hates Santa.

“Yes.”

“And this would prevent you from overseeing a family event involving him?”

“Without getting too much into my life history, I lack the holiday cheer necessary to dive in.”

He nodded. “Okay. Well, I have to be honest with you. It’s your turn to head up something from the staff side of things, and it’s this or the end-of-year carnival. Since you seem to have an aversion to PTA events in general, I had felt this was the lesser of the two evils. But I’ll let you decide.”

What kind of choice was that, really? I could throw together some cookies and arrange a visit by Santa with the help of a committee, or I could run the always over the top end-of-year carnival. Ten hours of work verses one million.

“I’ll take Santa,” I replied.

“I thought you might. Choose your committee from the staff, and I’ll get you the info on the PTA members who signed up. Let me know who will be helping you.” He sat up and scribbled a note on a pad of paper.

“Is there a date for this event?”

“Saturday, December 17th.”

Only three days before Lizzie’s wedding. Bad luck. I was sure I’d be helping with last-minute bride freak-outs and emotional meltdowns at that same point in time. Still . . . it was this or the carnival. Even the word carnival made me shudder.

“Okay.” I stood. “I’ll keep you posted.”

I hustled directly across the hall to Ruby’s health nurse room, hoping my friends were there and hadn’t already dispersed to their own classrooms. Thankfully, when I opened the door, they were still lounging around with big smiles, laughing at something I’d missed. Drat. I hated missing out.

“What did John want?” Hailey asked.

“Mr. Wall wants me to throw a cookies and Santa party for the school and community on December 17th.”

Lizzie’s nose wrinkled. “That’s so close to my wedding.”

“And you don’t like Santa,” Ruby added.

“It was this or heading up the end-of-year carnival.” I pulled a face, and they all shivered.

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