Page 71 of Cross Check Christmas
My whole body starts trembling as Margaret's words echo in my head. The room tilts sideways, and I grip the edge of my chair to stay upright. My chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around my ribs and is slowly squeezing.
I can't breathe. I can't think. The voices around me blur into a distant buzz as black spots dance at the edges of my vision.
A bet. It was all just a stupid bet.
The familiar panic rises, threatening to overwhelm me. But beneath it, something else burns - something hot and fierce that makes my hands clench into fists.
How dare he? How dare they all sit here, placing bets on my life like I'm some kind of... entertainment?
"And that concludes our white elephant exchange!" Janet's voice cuts through my spiral. She's standing at the front of the room, still wearing those ridiculous antlers. "Time for karaoke!"
"And first up for karaoke, we have Mrs. Phillips singing 'Baby It’s Cold Outside!'" Janet announces.
My hands have stopped shaking, but now my whole body feels like it's vibrating with rage. I surge forward, shoving past chairs and startled colleagues. My heels click against the floor as I intercept Mrs. Phillips as she reaches for the microphone. Taking it from her trembling hands, I turn to face the crowd.
"You know what's really cold?" My voice echoes through the speakers. "Making bets about someone's personal life."
The DJ, a college kid with gauges in his ears, reaches for the mic. "Um, ma'am? It's not your?—"
I yank it away. "No, it is my turn. Because apparently, my life is everyone's entertainment anyway!" I spot Hendrix in the crowd, his face draining of color.
"To all of you who've been placing bets these past weeks - hope you're enjoying the show. And you?—"
I lock eyes with Hendrix, who's frozen mid-rise from his chair. "You haven't changed one bit since high school, have you? Still the same clown, making jokes at other people's expense."
The DJ tries to grab the microphone. "Ma'am, Mrs. Phillips is scheduled to?—"
"Mrs. Phillips can wait." I wave the poor woman back to her seat. "Play 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"
"But that's not?—"
"I said play it!" My voice cracks.
The DJ looks helplessly around the room, then shrugs and hits a button. The opening notes fill the awkward silence.
"Let me tell you what my “true love” gave to me this Christmas. Starting with trust issues. Thanks for those, Hendrix. Really appreciate it. Just like high school all over again, right? Except this time it wasn't just a dare from your buddies to kiss the bookworm. This time it was for..." I let out a harsh laugh. "A Star Wars toy? Really?"
I stumble over the first verse, but catch up with the music: "On the first day of Christmas, this jerk gave to me... a bet about kissing under a tree!"
"On the first day of Christmas, the hockey coach gave to me, nothing because he only cares about himself!”
Someone in the back whistles.
"On the second day of Christmas, the jerk across the street, decorated my house without asking and he made a stupid bet about me!"
Hendrix stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he starts to leave. "No, no, stop that man!" I point at him. "Get up here, Hendrix Ellis, because I'm still talking to you!"
He storms up, snatching the second microphone from the DJ's trembling hands. His eyes flash as he cuts in:
Hendrix storms up, grabbing the second microphone. "Oh yeah? Well on my third day back in town, the Ice Queen tried to drive me out, with carolers singing modified songs about me leaving!"
“Ice Queen?’
“Yeah. That’s what everyone calls you. And now I see why!”
"On the fourth day of Christmas," I belt out, "he stole my practice space, with hockey players everywhere!"
"They're really butchering this," the custodian’s wife mutters.
